Cheeks McGee

So I am a terrible blogger. I frequently think of writing, but somehow never find the time. I’ll try harder, Shannon. The least I can do is post a few pictures of Stud Mouse, right? He’s growing so fast! It is exhilaratingly fun and completely exhausting all at the same time. Just when I think I’ve “got it” and we are on a good schedule and I’ve adjusted my thinking to his current set of abilities…things change! A week ago he could not reach the blinds on the window; today he almost pulled them down. It’s a fluid process.

Today I am having a babysitter come over so I can get some work done and he’ll have someone to play with. I know he’ll be thrilled to have the undivided attention of a cute girl and I’ll be pumped to get work finished on time for once. Brilliant!

Next up: my obsessive neurosis regarding our trip to NYC at the end of August. Five FULL days away from Brown Bear. Can I do it? Will Clay have to Fed Ex me back early? Oi vey.

Hey Little Man

No description or witty commentary...just a cute 7 month old baby.

Snake Farm

Spring time is always interesting in Texas. It is pretty for a few weeks while the bluebonnets are out and the misquotes are not. Since we don't have much of a winter, the bugs here quickly come raging back out of hibernation attacking the fledgling vegetable plants in my garden. I'm OK with that because we have lots of lizards and grass snakes to handle them. My issue comes when the snakes come IN THE HOUSE. They do it every spring. I don't really mind -- I like snakes (unlike Clay who runs like a little girl at the sight of a large earthworm). I usually just scoop them up and put them back outside.

Funny side story: when I was 9 months pregnant there was a HUGE snake on our driveway that I thought needed to be investigated. So I waddled my ever-expanding ass over to check if it would eventually kill one of my dogs...while Clay sat in the car with the headlights on. Helpful, yes?

Back to my point. So we get little snakes in the house every spring. It freaks Clay out so I handle it. No problem. Clay cleans the cat boxes so I think this is a fair trade. What I CAN NOT handle is dead stuff. ANYthing dead. Give me a live snake, mouse, spider...what ever...just don't make me deal with dead. Here in lies the problem with the snakes in the spring (and mice in the winter). We have three cats. As you can imagine, most things move hastily into the "dead" category...therefore becoming something I can't deal with. If its a mouse it is kindly left half eaten in the kitchen by the door. I put a bowl over it and call our neighbor, Billy. This has happened so many times it is now SOP. Clay will handle the dead mice, but they ONLY come in when he's out of town. Snakes, however, follow a different path. Yes, they move quickly to "dead", but unlike the mice who are left decapitated neatly on the tile, the snakes are not consumed. They become the most fascinating playthings to be batted all over the living room. Thus, freaking me out EVEN MORE. Not only is there a "dead" thing, but it has now touched everything in the living room.

So why bring this up now? There is a snake in the living room. I think its mostly dead. I really don't know. I chased the cats away and put a stock pot over it. Austin and I are going to stay quarantined in the kitchen today. I'm hoping it just vaporizes under there.

Boat Drinks

Sometimes someone has already written everything that needs to be said. Thank you again, Uncle Jimmy!


Boat drinks. Boys in the band ordered boat drinks. Visitors just scored on the home rink. Everything seems to be wrong. Lately, newspaper mentioned cheap airfare. I've got to fly to Saint Somewhere. I'm close to bodily harm.

Twenty degress and the hockey games on. Nobody cares; they are way too far gone, screamin' "Boat drinks," somethin' to keep them all warm.

This morning I shot six holes in my freezer. I think I got cabin fever. Somebody sound the alarm.

I'd like to go where the pace or life's slow. Could you beam me somewhere, Mister Scott? Any old place here on Earth or in space. You pick the century and I'll pick the spot.

I know I should be leaving this climate. I got a verse but can't rhyme it. I gotta go where it's warm.

Boat drinks. Waitress, I need two more boat drinks. Then I'm headin south 'fore my dream shrinks. I gotta where it's warm. I gotta go where it's warm. I gotta go where it's warm. I gotta go where there ain't any snow, where there ain't any blow, 'cause my fin sinks so low. I gotta go where it's warm.

Yum. Sweet Potatoes.

More Guy Love

Austin and Micheal are finally old enough to see each other as people! It was really cool to see them "play" in their own little baby way. Soon enough we'll be chasing them around and longing for the good ole days when they were not mobile.

No Warning

When you have a baby everyone warns you about the poopy diapers, sleepless nights, and spit up. They even tell you to lock your cabinets, clamp down the toilet lid and bolt your furniture to the wall. I also remember my mom telling me “you’ll never love something so much as you love your child”. All true. But there is another truth that no one can warn you about and that you lack the ability to understand until you actually look in to the face of your own child. No one warned me that as soon as I became a mother I’d feel the pain of every mother. I no longer see stories on the news about abducted or murdered children as sad or tragic…I have no words for how I view them now. There is a heartbreak and an outrage that is impossible to explain. I’m thinking of this today because I watched a story this morning about the 10th anniversary of the Columbine shootings. I was in college when that happened and remember being very sad for the parents and students. Sad doesn’t even cover what I felt this morning as I looked in to the faces of the parents who lost their children 10 years ago. I know now that they can still see their children alive and well as if it were April 19th, 1999. It makes me wonder, “is it worth it”? Is it worth loving something SO MUCH that losing it would be so cruel as to NOT kill you? I assume those parents would all say yes.

It makes me want to put Austin in a bubble and never let him out. This morning I cried and begged him to stay a baby. But that isn’t the point of life is it? The point is to let him live and grow and see what kind of person he was meant to be. It would be easy to be irrational and crippled by fear. I imagine that most mothers have to frequently fight this battle. If anything, it makes me want to hold my child a little bit longer, put off cleaning or working a few more minutes to play with him and spend as much time as I want watching him sleep. Someday I won’t be able to do any of those things…hopefully it is because he is too old or too big.

I read a quote a few years ago from Bono (of all people). He said there is a terrifying moment after you first look into the face of your child. It is the moment you realize to what ends you would go to protect that life. I didn’t get it then…but I do now.

Born Cool

As I was taking pictures of Austin last weekend in his rockin' hat and groovy shorts, I commented on how there are so few people who could pull off mis-matched Hawaiian prints. Austin is a lucky guy to be in this select group. Clay, in his infinite wisdom, said, "some people are just born cool." I had no idea that a level of coolness could be determined so early in life! Apparently the ability to coordinate party fabrics is a early litmus test.

Bromance

Austin and Michael (aka The Moose and Mad Dog). It was Guy Love at first sight and fake cousins for life.

25 Things About Me and Other Conundrums

If you are on Facebook, you know what I am talking about. It is the latest and greatest way to let everyone you have “friended” know who you are, what you are about…what ever. Several of my friends have “tagged” me, but I have yet to take the plunge. I am, however, obsessing about it. Facebook does that to you. First, you start to think about everything you do in the third person, “Sarah is…”. It is insane. I am constantly thinking about what I am doing and attempting to come up with a snarky way to say it in a status update that will inform everyone that I am indeed cool and nothing like the person I was in high school. Now I must also add this “25 Things” activity to the list of things that haunt me. Can I come up with 25? What to include? The pressure is mounting and I may not be up to the task. My whole Facebook identity rides on this moment! Problem is… I have friends from work, friends from high school, friends who are friends with my parents and even friends I am not sure I really know. Do they all get the same “me”? Do the people I serve on non-profit boards with in Waco really need to know I curse like Joe Pesci at home? Will the people I went to high school with believe me if I try and imply I am no longer a stuck up girl with way-to-big hair? Will someone tell my mother if I admit my favorite drink is Jack & Coke? ARRUUGGH!

I’m not sure I am cut out for Facebook. I don’t think I can handle the pressure. I figure all the girls join to see who got fat & show off their reproductive efforts and all the boys join to prove they got married & still have hair. So what about me? Why did I break down and join? Desperation of being at home with a baby I guess. Oh that I could un-join…but alas, it is too late and I must live with my decision and the queries it forces me to come to terms with. What about this one: to friend or not to friend the creepy ex-boyfriend? I am desperate to know how fat he’s gotten and who the hell he convinced to marry him…but he’s the creepy ex-boyfriend! And what about boyfriends that weren’t creepy? If we friend each other must I also friend their wives? Such are the conundrums of the modern age of communication.

Then…a moment of clarity. I remember that I really don’t care who is fat, bald, married, working out, cooking dinner, picking the kids up, watching American Idol, gay, pregnant, finger painting, drinking beer, playing golf, going fishing or super-poking everyone they know. And no one really cares that I’m a Democrat and a music snob, or that I practice yoga, eat organic food, have three dogs, watch too much CNN and drink too much wine. Hell, I only joined to have ONE MORE way talk to Chris and Shannon…everyone else is just lucky to have me as a friend.

So will I breakdown and complete the “25 Things”? Probably. I can’t resist thinking I am THAT important to other people.

I'm really pretty

Clay just looked at Austin and said: “I’m sorry you got my chin, Dude”.

I asked why?…because I love Austin’s cute little chin with its beautiful perfect dimple. Clay said, “because he’ll feel like he has ‘short chin’ when he gets older – his chin will be captured between his jowls”.

Fair enough explanation. No one would wish THAT on a sweet little baby.

Then Clay said…

“I shouldn’t feel bad, I’m really pretty”.

Dear Lord, please let Austin inherit Clay’s humility as well as his phenomenal good looks.

My new favorite quote

"Once in his life, every man is entitled to fall madly in love with a gorgeous redhead"
— Lucille Ball

Thanksgiving 2008

Fat fat fat baby on Thanksgiving.

Natural Born Boppy

For those of you not familiar with the Boppy, allow me to enlighten. A Boppy is a u-shaped pillow that is used to position a baby for nursing. Until recently, I had no idea how the human race flourished in the pre-Boppy millennia. How did the baby every find the nipple? Or stay there long enough to draw sustenance? The answer was soon revealed to me the first time I was required to 'nurse on the fly'. God, in His infinite wisdom, provides nursing mothers with Nature's Bobby. I am referring, no doubt, to the shelf of fat (or "fat flap" as we refer to it at our house) that stays on the belly long after delivery of a tiny human. Yes, it is a nuisance when attempting to shoe-horn yourself in to pre-pregnancy pants, but the damn thing is oh-so-useful when the need to prop a baby up to boob height arises (about every 2 hours or so).

Bonus: just like the Boppy I bought at Target, this one comes in a fetching pattern! It sort of looks like a nice pink zebra print.

Best Friends v.2

Austin and Michael have a lot of catching up to do! Maybe they just need a trip to Padre and some cookie dough...

I love Democracy

Talk about early voting...5 & 1/2 weeks may not quite be old enough to participate in the democratic process, but Austin was out there none the less supporting his favorite candidate. Much to the dismay of both his grandmothers. Somehow, I think they will forgive him. Hey, at least he wore his red and blue nonpartisan jammies.

Mr. Tambourine Man

Me and Austin in our matching Bob Dylan shirts. He is so money and he doesn't even know it. :)

Tears, Idle Tears

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.

Multitasking and Spidey Senses

Author’s note: please read the following with a considerable dose of sarcasm…or with an Irish accent…which ever makes it sound more implausible.

As a new mother you know you have, as they say, ‘hit your stride’ when the definition of multitasking has gone from checking emails on your PDA while attending a professional development conference to peeing in the shower. Both worthy and no doubt time-saving efforts, yet somehow evidence of two unmistakably parallel dimensions of life as I know it. I have always thought of myself as an efficient worker – able to tackle many things at once. I balanced working full time and getting my MBA for goodness sake. Yet this whole motherhood thing has kicked it up…well, another notch. For the precious few hours my five week old son is asleep during the day, I face a dilemma of epic consequence and find within myself strength and wit I knew not of until very recently. He’s asleep. Do I, a.) take a much-needed nap, b.) start a load of laundry to rectify the fact that he has no clean jammies or blankets and I’ve been going commando for three days, c.) pump some breast milk to freeze so that some day in a future I can only dream of, I can leave him for several hours to pursue such luxuries as grocery shopping or checking in to an asylum, or d.) take a shower to remove the encrusted spit up that has accumulated on my right shoulder? The answer…simply, is all of the above.

First, put the baby down to sleep with all manner of unnatural assistance I have no idea how women ever lived with out – crib vibrator, iPod playing classical guitar music, white noise machine to block out all other sound, sleep positioner -- just in case he suddenly develops the ability to rollover he won’t smother himself in his organic cotton crib sheet. Then take the breast pump in the bathroom for easy access. Shower quickly, of course using 2-in-1 Pantene. Forget shaving my legs, I can’t have sex for 7 more days anyway. We’ll skip over whether or not peeing in the shower is a true time saver or just pure laziness. Then, while the milk is flowing from the hot shower, pump while brushing the teeth I have been neglecting for weeks. Wrap up in a big towel (hell, no one is home but me) and run the laundry down stairs. Because I am so efficient at all this, I can even pause here to return a few emails, upload the latest pictures to my Picasa site and MAYBE…have a quick snack. Oops. Forgot to get in the nap. Isn’t that just how it goes?

By the by, should one think I am writing all this to BRAG on my super-mommy abilities, I assure you, I am not. I’m merely presenting this as evidence of how insane my life has become. Not only can I do ALL this…but I am perfectly capable of having a ten minute conversation with a total stranger about poop. That MBA paid for itself, yes?

Another new development is the sudden acquisition of Spidey Senses. I have learned that WHILE ASLEEP I have the ability to hear the slightest alternation in the baby’s breathing pattern or shift in sleeping position. This is over the aforementioned white noise machine, crib vibrator and heater/fan (depending on if I think he MIGHT be the slightest bit hot or cold at the moment) and my snoring baby-daddy in the bed next to me. Conversely, I can also now BLOCK OUT the defcon-4 screaming fit Austin likes to have each evening as if it were sweet music for yoga and meditation. I marvel at these amazing adjustments in hearing that allow the new mother to survive in the wild. I also find it interesting that, like the girl in Clueless who’s tits predicated the weather, mine can alert me a good five minutes in advance of the hungry baby waking up from a nap. Nature once again at its most amazing -- providing me plenty of notice to get the Boppy, set up the three zillion pillows I need to use to get in to proper nursing position, fetch a new set of breast pads, and unsnap my fancy nursing tank. Such the Earth Mother am I. Another sense that has adjusted is my always keen sense of smell. Once limited to simply rotting food in the disposal and alcohol on my husband’s breath, I can now identify any number of indoor air quality issues that might adversely impact my son’s health or well-being…or SLEEP. Someone used bleach in the kitchen? Throw open the windows - stat! Who forgot to use the organic laundry detergent on these onesies? Ugh…I have to do everything around here. Did one of the cats vomit? Let the dog in to lick it up before the hacking wakes the baby.

Peter Parker my ass – try being the mother of a newborn THEN maybe we’ll make a fourth movie.

New title for the blog

I can't think of a title or quote that better fits my life at this very moment. As the Johnson & Johnson commercials say in the sickly sweet voice, "having a baby changes everything". I always wondered what they were advertising there. I mean really, if there were TRUTH in advertising, no one would willingly make the choice to have children. Not that it is not worth it 100%, it is just that there is no way of knowing how MUCH things change until it is too late. The changes in our life since Austin was born have been more then mere changes...they have been changes in LATITUDE. Altering the course of our lives so much so that we need an entirely different map then the one we previously used. And yes, it is true, if we couldn't laugh we would surely be insane by now.

So in hopes that my sleep deprivation will inspire a new batch of blogging, here is a pic of Austin and the timeless lyrics of one Jimmy Buffett -- as always, providing the soundtrack to my life. Funny, the theme song used to be 'Boat Drinks'. :)

By: Jimmy Buffett: 1977
I took off for a weekend last month
Just to try and recall the whole year
All of the faces and all of the places
Wonderin where they all disappeared
I didn't ponder the question too long
I was hungry and went out for a bite
Ran into a chum with a bottle of rum
And we wound up drinkin all night

Chorus: Its these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of our running and all of our cunning
If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane

Reading departure signs in some big airport
Reminds me of the places I've been
Visions of good times that brought so much pleasure
Makes me want to go back again
If it suddenly ended tomorrow
I could somehow adjust to the fall
Good times and riches and son of a bitches
I've seen more than I can recall

Chorus: These changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
Through all of the islands and all of the highlands
If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane

I think about Paris when I'm high on red wine
I wish I could jump on a plane
So many nights I just dream of the ocean
God I wish I was sailin again

Oh, yesterdays over my shoulder
So I cant look back for too long
There's just too much to see waiting in front of me
And I know that I just cant go wrong

Chorus: With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of my running and all of my cunning
If I couldn't laugh I just would go insane
If we couldn't laugh we just would go insane
If we weren't all crazy we would go insane