Clutter-Free Cluster-Fun? Holidaze Hankerings Edition

And then there was one... less than one... month to TWO!! AGH!!!

Actually, Chaya's already embracing her twoness in many wonderful ways.

I'm learning many of my most oft repeated words from her burgeoning little linguistic repertoire: "pretty cool," "awesome," "oh really?", "oh goodness," "careful!", "nervous," "BABY DOWN" (my attempt at neither escalating nor minimalizing Chaya's frequent pratfalls), "accursed mountebank"... the usual.

And she has coined what appears to be the word FAGULOUS... which I'm not sure I think she should be repeating in polite company, but could be appropriate uttered in very narrow circumstances. Along with her continued insistence that we must call a spoon "booze" and use a work for "fork" that definitely has some cacophemistic qualities to it.

She also does high fives and raises the roof (or possibly razes; "RAIZ ROOF RAIZ ROOF"), and says "OOOOPA!" for her daddy and "OOOOKRA!" for her mommy.  And ABDs, ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR... THEEE-FOOOR-FIVE-NINEs.

And the emotions. They be big, as promised. I hear that two actually isn't that terrible compared to what lays ahead. I hear that two-year-olds are walking bags of frustration and angst because they ought to be understood and want to understand and it's just damned frustrating (little artists). I hear that then they're three and they understand and they're like "fork that noise, mommy and daddy." And then they're four and they're all that but big enough that it's even harder to physically restrain them from hurting you and ... seriously parents of older kids love horror stories. I get a little nervous that Chaya already can trigger me, exasperate me, and get my mommy-goat (mah mah here and mah mah there) despite all my gentle meditative mindful effort, already! Before she even really is trying to do so.

At any rate there is a flavor of two that we're definitely imbibing at the moment, for good and ill and all adorable. There's an iron will, for sure. Vivid concentration. Immaculate memory and object permanence. A desire to test boundaries and assert identity. The gleeful bacchanalia that tips into ovestimulated decompensation at a second's notice. And of course the wonderful wonder and sense of discovery. It's a barrel of wowza.

As we wind into year two, the household continues to adapt.

The Schtuff schlog persists. We've wended through accessories (bye bye amazing earring collection languishing in dusty desuetude), and special purpose clothing (note to self: modern maternity bathing suits are beautiful and go a long way towards celebrating the non-existent BUMP, creating a rather eerie vacuum in your post partum midsection and it's time to let go).

And we continue to contemplate acquisition in regards to the little schtuff magnet.

It's strange to reflect on certain joys and 'filias of my childhood; and then choose to do something differently than my parents. I had an amazing childhood. I think Chaya should be half so lucky with her parents as I was with mine. And I have such strong positive memories of acquiring things. I blanch at some of the things I took joy in. If it was bored, I liked just going to an accessory store and buying earrings. Or a shirt. Or anything. I loved to buy things. And receive things. And acquire. And store things. But in a sense, we all evolve. I evolved with my mother and father after their divorce. What gave me joy then is different. And it at the very least reinforces that no matter what we start with, Chaya's preferences (and ours) will be two hundredfold different by the time she's an adult.

I can only do what I can do. And for all our sakes, I'd love to promote a less congested world. At the very least so mommy doesn't die strangled in Chaya's undersized shirts or tripped down the stairs of WonderBlox.

** Standard Disclaimer- Omphaloskeptical Skepticism of Everything Else I say Above and BelowAhead **

Apparently the key word into the cultist version of my yen to simplify with a child is "clutter free." Welcome to the handy world of blogs, listicles and hand crafted sustainable advice.

Clutter free also represents the kind of fastidious minimalism that doesn't appeal to me either. I think there's merit and logic in allowing a little chaos and celebrating objects and possessions.

The fixation on experience over possession only goes so far. One can just as readily clutter one's time with meaningless business or obsessions (like, say maintaining a minimal lifestyle in a society of pullulating consumption). Of course we clutter our time with busy-ness, phones, etc. But I'll get to that in a sec. 

I get the sense that the emphasis on leisure time over possessions is pointedly a signal of participation in a certain class of American society. Time is valuable in a way consumable goods no longer are. In a culture where time is the true premium - where we are flooded with so many cheap and available goods and junky mass-produced food as to have no limitations on our acquisition of it before it become deleterious to our well-being - of course it becomes a certain endemic that people will feel oppressed by their stuff.

 Of course classist strains of "virtue" will attach itself to those who have time to: (1) live sustainably, (2) cultivate their possessions, (3) eat handmade food with minimal processing, (4) optimize their free-range learning opportunities, (4) etc. And that the time and energy required to keeping only what is needed, organizing and caring for what is kept, and otherwise maintaining a lifestyle that might be the only option in a less "affluent" society, is only something available to the wealthier. 

Besides, as an introvert, I really do value my empty time as much as my empty space. Sometimes I hear the suggestion of offering to take a beloved child on a trip and I think of the many relatives I would have hated traveling with or being left alone with for a period of time. Or classes I would never want to be obligated to attend any more than hanging onto something. 

Not all clutter free sermonizing is blind to this one. There's a heavy emphasis on the screen-free. The Nordic fetish with playtime and Hygge... But, still, keeping a perfectly balanced and clutter-free home for your free-range child smacks of "stuff well-off white people like" about as much as day hiking with a structured pack (ahem, not that we've done that recently), farm-to-table foods, or paying to pick berries (uh huh) at the local farm. 

Not that this is bad intrinsically, but it's worth the reflection that I am pointedly a product of my culture.

And, let's just be honest... it all comes down to a fetishization of some sort. One can be minimalist one of two ways: (1) basically an anorexia of ownership- turning compulsive consumption into compulsive non-consumption until it truly consumes one's life, (2) putting all one's energy into consuming and possessing only the highest quality items. There's an Epicurean delightfulness in this, but it certainly manages to again prioritize consumption. So we're all somehow in the same situation. We just have different resources for our consumption. And it's nice to have time and resources to be mindful. But seriously, with a toddler, I don't have that much mind left, so maybe I'm not the right target for anything too thorough on any grounds. 

Finally, I am NOT a mom-blogger who thinks my kid should make her bed every morning, donate all her toys, and keep the fridge totally clear (seriously??)

Ok... that out of my system. There's too much stuff in our house!! Chaya and I are both overstimulated. Let's manage instead of cultivate for now...

***

My current fixation is on occasions, particularly with the little one's second coming up. How to celebrate them and bring the magic of my childhood holidays into her life in new ways.

Right now I'm trying to figure out the balance between object and experience. Receiving and giving gifts is an experience in itself. There's a place for this far beyond any mercantile exchange of goods. And there's something even more important about tangibility in an increasingly virtual world. 

 I remember holidays and the magic around gift-giving so fondly. Christmas and the brightly colored packages. The crinkle of ribbons. The visceral satisfaction of stockings. And the Easter baskets. Objects become totems for tacit and deeply held mutual affections. The act of exchanging them in certain ceremonial ways become reinforcing rites that glue families together in tradition. There is a joy in tangibility that I cannot deny. I miss that joyousness even now, though I less frequently get hand wrapped gifts. When I do get a stocking, even if nothing in the stocking is particularly interesting, there's some magic still clinging.

Which makes me wonder: how do I preserve that tangibility and festivity without relying on (1) junk, or (2) junk food. Really, I have no desire to replace clutter with crap. Not that certain holidays won't be devoted to the mindless consumption of things, but ultimately... well, I'd rather find a third way.

A few thoughts I've had so far:

* I enjoyed my childhood Easter Tradition of finding dyed eggs, then making them into an Easter meal. I also enjoy Claudia's Easter tradition of using shelled eggs, brightly coloring them, filling them with confetti, and then cracking them on the ground at the end. OOOPA!

* I recently discovered a group called Skagit County Rocks! They are centered are painting rocks found while exploring, then hiding them again for other members of the group to find, then rehide. I like the idea that these are things people can paint creatively, and then give forward

* I like the idea of planting a tree each birthday. Maybe a similar green plant experience for other holidays?

* Chaya's recently become obsessed with stickers. While not exactly being consumable, they tend to stick on things briefly, get torn off and go into the trash. Major win.

* Chaya's always obsessed with balloons. And they too die over time instead of sedimenting.

* I love "adopting" an animal and sponsoring a child in a poorer country when I was younger. I "had" an orca, a goat, and a leopard. And I actually corresponded with a few children in various parts of the country. There are also magazine subscriptions. I loved Zoo Books as a kiddo.

* Of course there is a place for experience. I do want to do an outing and a special family meal/hang out for each occasion. This year, we're going to the zoo. I'm sure we can think of something special associated with that. Maybe animal feed for the chickens if we go to a farm? Something silly like that.

* Well, this is highly material, but new "big girl" clothes are always useful at this age. That will slow down, but... shoes and socks, hats, coats, etc. Still highly consumable.

* I am playing with the idea of doing a small annual time capsul. A small note. Maybe an item or two of special importance. Seal it up somewhere and wait 5-10 years to open it again. Possibly asking all participants in a baby party to bring a small memento to be interned until the future. That one's all very theoretical. It creates a certain kind of clutter in a basement somewhere, of course, but still...

* Of course there are always really creative and weird foods. And one of my favorite adult traditions is something of a "food challenge" in which my father and I (usually by accident) acquire odd ingredients and are then forced to ad lib some fabulous meal with them. I kind of like the idea of giving less common fruits and veggies and edibles and then doing something with them.

* Seriously, Chaya would be happiest with several rolls of floss, a few spinny toothbrushes, some plastic gum containers and a few piles of dirt.



At any rate, there's a little less than a month to improvise this year and start fantasizing about Christmas.

And/or survive the terrible terrific twoness.

Wish us luck and lots of love!!

Wrinkly Red Banana Baby, Sacrificial Choco-bunny, and the Pesach Party:

Halfway through the gestational gallivant(!!), Baby Fonzarelli McButternut Banana sprouted cheese and started eavesdropping on her madly moving parents. House deals closed with a clatter of tinkling jade and moving boxes. Mombossas convalesced with aching gums, while the DINKS-to-soon-not-be said goodbye to two blissful years of newlywededness and ascended to old-married right before the baby baccharole. 

In Week 21, the ovens rumble and the heat get high. Moving madness mixes with holidaze happies, as family traditions are swapped and banquests burble. Red-wrinkly skinned banana babies get their first taste of bitter herb and charoset with a heart L'chaim! Bunnies are laid in their peepy supulchres for rebirth to once more yield hearty meals and sadly stunted appetites. Amid the joy and jubilation, little troubles stir. But are they gas, baby kicks, or a bad case of the G(ee)-I(-hate-this-rampager) virus?

New Home Hippety Hop Hurrahs And the inevitably post-move lurgies

We have spent over 24 hours living in our very own (W)right Family Castle/Condo! Two nights! Two breakfasts! One full day and a couple of evenings on either side. I christened the place thoroughly yesterday with a new dish strainer, some shower curtains and a whole lot of vegetables. The new place is now comfortably padded with Adella-aura!

I was pretty excited to be able to stop by Trader Joe's on the way home. Between our new location and the decline of the Canadian dollar, that's actually not a bad option anymore. I got slightly cheaper eggs and kefir (recently tried it for the first time and find it oddly addicting after the initial "what the heck is this?"), and can see buying some of their frozen foods over other brands. It won't be my only go-to store, but finally being able to shop at a Bellingham TJ's was an untold and surprising treat. As was coming home and chop chop chopping all my beautiful fresh produce! 

We are not, of course, fully situated. We've unpacked almost entirely, but there remains to be some serious figuring out of feng shui and fandangos when it comes to some of our rooms. Andrew still has the floor project in the bike dungeon and until that floor is handled, he can't move all the stuff intended for that area from the other basement room where things are staged. By staged I mean "haphazardly piled in a potpourri of furniture and untold objects." There may be an ancient Egyptian tomb down there, we're not positive yet. 

We haven't quite decided on the orientation of the couch in our ground level non-dining-non-kitchen space of the mostly open floor plan. We have a sofa, but it's not how it will ultimately be oriented. And our upstairs library/media room currently has a couch diagonally strewn across its middle with a coffee table and a laptop serving as our multimedia center. Since we don't have internet (story to ensue), we've taken a break from the Angel/Buffy spree and have been watching the commentary on my Firefly DVDs. It's in theme. And very entertaining. 

So, internet... we might. Just might (but probably not) break free of the Comcast tyranny. Fingers crossed. We tried to work with them. For several hours. They were going to charge us fifty dollars to "move" our service. Which is stupid. And they were purportedly - after much conversation - going to keep us on the same plan. But apparently they changed their borg-like-corpo-mind between Andrew's first conversation with them and the confirmation email that we received about the "install" appointment. I guess our "promotional period" was up (uh huh), so they decided to upgrade us for an "internet enhancement" charge or something asinine. 

When Andrew called a second time, they verified that we could change our plan back to a less expensive lower speed one, BUT we had to have the "install"  happen first. Meaning we'd be all set up and committed and out fifty bucks and then we would probably (this being Comcast) be informed that we couldn't actually switch and we were now signed up for the hyperspeed XFINITY PLUSAROOupgrade for $400 a month! Bundled. With phones we have to use every day or we'll be fined. Something like that. 

So we cancelled. 

We might have to open a new account with them*. Apparently this would be the only way to sign up for the cheaper/slower service initially. But we might also have a lead on a service the maybe just maybe would be our NOT-COMCAST shining light. It's equivalent to the slightly slower package from Comcast, with cheaper installation, and not Comcast. 

I told Andrew I'm pretty well ready to give up netflix and streaming radio and whatever else needs actually functioning internet to never deal with those jerks again. I really am happy with a radio, my phone, and my dvds.

Fingers crossed!

*Update from the future: Comcast came crawling back and just like the stereotype goes, we took 'em. Somehow, we now had a $6 install fee and a grossly cheaper "lower speed" package that seems to work just as well as what we had previously except we don't need to keep a comcast tv box in our living room as some kind of token symbol of the amazing DEAL we never wanted but had to take to keep our internet previously. 

In other customer service nightmare sagas, we had a few rematches with the Sears/Sole/Nordictrack/Icon-Fitness hora o' horrors. After about two and a half hours, we established:

(1) the treadmill is not actually one of the ones contracted out to Icon, despite several misleading insistences that they were from all the other phone centers and Icon itself,

 (2) Nordictrack is useless, 

(3) Sole cannot absolutely cannot fix a Sole F-80 if there's a warranty, even if the customer wants to waive that warranty to just get somebody out to look at the damned thing,

 (4) but turns out that actually according to Sears, there is no warranty so they won't be fixing it and... 

(5) Sole will be out today. But they're already running late. 

I'm not 100% optimistic, but it does seem like this might be progress. I've already been looking for replacement treadmills. Just in case.*

* Update from the future - a guy showed up, waved a magic treadmill wand over the whole thing, determined that (1) the treadmill needed both a new motor and a new motor controller, (2) despite his complete skepticism the motor is under warranty, (3) the treadmill will purportedly be fixed on April 16th.  

Anyways, Hubba-hubba and I are both feeling the craziness of the move now. I've just been kind of tired and headachey. Andrew was so off last night that he didn't eat his dinner. This is unprecedented. He had stomach ick, tension headache, achey everything... droopy eyes... just not looking well. When I thought maybe he just didn't like the dinner very much (shockingly and accidentally I had oversalted it, for once), I suggested freezing it for future rehab and reheating some pizza. He turned that down too! This morning, he says he feels slightly better, but still hadn't barely touched his (usually gulped) first cup of coffee or his breakfast when I left. 

We'll see about date night tonight. 

It might be a white rice, eggs, and more Firefly kinda evening!

This weekend should be a little wild, with Andrew's mum and Tom2 (the soon to be "my mother-in-law's husband" relation to myself) flying out tomorrow evening. Saturday will be an experience for me: Andrew and Lisa are going to do the Seder dinner for us. I haven't done Seder since I was a little girl in one of my church enrichment classes. I'd love that to be a tradition for our daughter. And of course Easter is the next day and my father and I are putting together a lateish lunch for us, Andrew & his fam, and some family friends. The day after is actually our second (holy crap) wedding anniversary, but we're not going to celebrate until a bit later somehow. Unless collapsing on our weirdly placed diagonal couch counts as feting! 

I am excited, but I wish we could put the holidaze on hold for about two weeks of just staring at walls. Though really, we still have plenty left to do this weekend beyond the celebrating that we'd probably do instead. 

Nonetheless, the big haul has happened. We are on our way to family home settling and awesomeness! Nesting commences SOON!!

Banana-Beastie and the Red-Wrinkled Carrots

Well, I'm over the hump and into the bump and decidedly onto WEEK 21 (drinks are on me!!! Literally, I probably just spilled them on myself, because I am kind of that clumsy these days, and I've finally started sometimes hitting things with my wee little bump-tummy)!!

The produce similes ebb and flow, but this week we're down to two intended to describe something about 11 inches long: baaahnaaaaaaaanaaaaaaaaa!!!(presumably, a slightly larger one than last week), and carrot (which is less fun to say, but always fun to eat). 

As I enjoy both of these items of produce on a quotidian basis, I'm happy with either. As - hopefully - shall be my little Fonzarelli. Because apparently she now tastes what I taste. Well, sort of. My amniotic fluid... the stuff she lives, pees, and bathes in? Well, she also eats it and derives some nutrition from it. And now, poor soul, she's got taste buds. Yep, babies eat pee water! Apparently, my amniotic fluid shifts sapor depending on what I've been eating. I guess there's even a correlation between the taste of amniotic fluid and future food preferences for babies. My little one is going to leap from the womb demanding dark chocolate and peanut butter I think! But possibly also some carrots and a banana (mmm and kale and cabbage and onion and... man I had a tasty salad last night, although the banana was not a part of that salad). 

And all that eating will apparently contribute towards some good old fashioned fattening up. She's a bit of the creepy skinny side right now. Particularly creepy, because her skin is red, translucent and all wrinkled to provide space for the fat to fill out. Adorable, huh? 

Me? Same old, same old. Ruddy skin as well! Lower back, veins any day, stomach ripping as it stretches beyond craziness, edema, allergies etc. etc.  Yawn and yeegah!

I have been advised to keep my activity mild and to continue gaining weight with my little wee one. Oh and to elevate my feet whenever I sit. Preferably on the backs of bowing peons while another few fan me!

But life goes on. Rapidly. And madly. This is truly a month of changes. 

Not only am I bursting a new little alien in my brand new condo, but the office is CHANGING! Hugely! Since my mom-bossa is planning to retire in about a year, she gave the green light to seek out other work for our trusty paralegal/office worker. And boy did she! Leslie sailed through an interview process with a job that just sounds about perfect for her. After some haggling, she got the wage offer up to acceptable and will be leaving here two weeks from today. Surreal. 

Hard to imagine. I of course am mixed between excitement, sadness, panic, and some misplaced nesting instincts in which her office will soon become the new nursery and play room for my shriveled rubicund banana baby. Every office needs a trampoline and a swing, right?

I think I'll deal with all the emotional stuff the last week. Denial is a fun thing. But boy is it going to be different without the Number Two who has been at my mom's side since I was a gross and awkward teenager.

And our crazy weekend of family fun begins this evening. Well, I'll be asleep probably by the time the festivities begin. But Andrew will be picking up his mum and not-exactly-step-dad-to-be at the Seattle airport this evening. We are hoping and praying that Andrew's ailment clears up. He keeps claiming to feel better, but I dunno. He didn't eat dinner at all on Wednesday, didn't eat all of his lunch yesterday, ate his intentionally bland mound of couscous and eggs very slowly last night, and was still pecking at his oatmeal this morning before I finally had to leave. Usually he inhales food at a shocking rate. And, well, he just doesn't look quite recovered and has been sleeping very poorly. 

This would be a real bummer of a time to have a stomach bug. Two major holidays completely centered around communal eating. Back to back! 

Fingers crossed. 

As one might see, April is not going to settle down nearly as much as anticipated. But with a boogeying banana baby slurping up my leftovers, I guess I couldn't really anticipate such things. 

At least there will be fun and family and love all in between!

Happy Easter! 

Quite the busy weekend with the mother in law and future semi-step father in law coming out for a whirlwind holiday tour of the new location with bonus gift tons of holiday groceries, a Seder plate and a meal to feed the twelve tribes of Israel. 

these are just the leftovers

Not to mention preparations for my own family tradition of Easter lunch. I snuck off from one kitchen Bacchanalia to another yesterday. Both with more than their share of food processing favorites and the fresh pique of horseradish. So very much tasty food.

We celebrated Seder last night Gelfand style, which was less formal than the one I've been to before easily more fun. I rather prefer the eggplant and hardboiled egg substitute to actual chopped liver (an Ottolenghi recipe, I am told). I've had some time to reflect and I'm realizing that it's like a really tasty version of an egg salad sandwich - a combination of onion, hard boiled eggs and sauteed eggplant chunks. 

And we went with a roasted beet to a bloody lamb shank to still my quivering vegetarian heart.

The whole affair was quite a blast and hopefully the beginning of an ongoing tradition in some form or other. One with familial character and maybe a little less wine and strange meat. We took turns reading from a haggadah that came from the internets. It was entertaining for featuring modern little takes and twists (like a page devoted to twitter tweets about something or a Guinness Book of World Records entry on the largest Matza ever made). 

Today it's Easter time! The ritual bunny sacrifice had been prepared but there are also five other potential desserts from the sound of it.

In horrible timing-land, Andrew the garbage disposal had seemed to be so sick as to have no appetite all week. He rallied last night though and ate as much as maybe normal people eat, which is light for him, but something. Hoping that's an actual rally and not just holiday stubbornness and full denial.  

Easter Monkeys with the Bunnies? An Easter Monday Recovery Recapish

Whew! That was fun. And exhausting. Andrew's still sick, possibly a bit more so for all the revelries (not that he'd ever own to that, Mr. Stoic "I think I'm getting better" every day). I woke up coughing with a dripping nose and throat more thoroughly grated than all that horseradish root we used up this weekend. And I, for one, am simultaneously ready for a really nice normal week at work (one of our last, as Leslie's last day is next Friday) and ready to go Andrew's route and plead "sick day". 

Yeah, he's definitely staying home today. Thank goodness. He left some ambiguity last night, but it was pretty clear this morning. Really actually clear by the middle of another sleepless and suffering night. I left him some eggs and matza (talk about BRAT friendly food), and trudged off to work. The sleep will probably do him well. I could use a little extra myself. I rarely sleep until the alarm starts up, but I slept quite soundly into that lights and chirping bird this morning. 

But back to the fun part that got us here. My first family Seder on Saturday. I'm overwhelmed at the energy Lisa and Tom put into it and really enjoyed the communal aspect of reading the haggadah explanations and prayers in turns. I really would like to pass this tradition on to our kiddo just as I want to pass our family traditions down to her. So it may be the first of many. 

But tit-for-tat: the Gelfands share a family holiday tradition with me, I get to share one with them! Easter brunch!! WHOOOOOO! And yes, it's always an event for me and my father, even if just the two of us attend. 

This year, I was very pleased to introduce family friends George and Linda to Lisa and Tom. Lisa and Linda just seemed like they really ought to know each other. And they did get along swimmingly. So well that I think they almost forget to keep watch on the time for getting to the airport. 

My traditional role, of course, was hostess and that meant setting up the table, engineering the centerpiece dessert (we didn't eat the bunny effigy, but soon honors students at WWU definitely will set upon it and its peep attendants), and a lot of cooking. My dad and I are very similar in our kitchen approaches: concoct some novel idea for an element of a dish, build up some conceit around that element, totally eyeball it, improvise erratically several times during the process, and wind up with something we mostly actually really like. Express joy and surprise and a little shock. Eat. Repeat.

Our experiments this year were our oh-so-gentle-gentile nods to traditional Seder foods. Mostly horseradish, in the form of a sauce that ended up much more of a sandwich spread in my opinion, and charoset. The horseradish sauce was vegan, since Andrew and his mom are lactose intolerant and I like that kind of thing anyways. Cashews being the main basis for mixing with the horseradish. We were going to drizzle it over steamed broccoli, but we ended up more like clumping it. It was tasty though.

Our charoset (a symbolic paste of fruits and nuts symbolizing mortar used making bricks when the Israelites were enslaved in Egypt, and to be eaten in a sandwich with unleavened bread and "bitter herb") was apparently a Sephardic version. The night before we had a more genuine Ashkenazi with apples and walnuts and wine. This one was a bunch of dried fruits, pecans, and almonds with ginger, and apple sauce, and cinnamon. It was pretty good. I'd eat that on bread instead of PB&J!

 We did kind of go off script and pair it with sourdough bread from Avenue Bread. Pretty tasty, although it was a lighter sourdough. I'd have prefer really strong sourdough. 

My dad also did something BBQ related with lamb that everyone who eats meat thought was incredible. I could not speak to it, but it was gobbled up! And Linda brought a very tasty asparagus salad that hit the absolute spot for me. And because you can't have easter without plenty of egg dishes, I made a egg cup that consisted of eggs, cottage cheese, mozarella, chives, tarragon, and spinach. I could eat those pretty much any time. 

Dessert ended up being several options: (1) mixed berries (for me, since I don't like added sugars mostly); (2) lactose free vanilla ice cream for the lactose intolerant of our party; (3) regular vanilla, just in case somebody had a problem with delactated ice-cream; (4) a gluten free chocolate something just in case somebody was GF; (5) a gluten free coconut chocolate something just in case somebody was GF and liked coconut?; (6) a gluten heavy, sugary, lactosey yam cake with cream cheese dressing just to balance the rest out. 

The lactose free ice cream actually turned out to be better than the regular. And pretty much all the desserts were a hit. 

Although Andrew was still notably sick, he ate about as much as a normal person's "a lot." That is almost a diet for him, but I'm glad he got to taste everything anyways. Not so sure his body was thrilled with him afterwards, though. If this keeps up, the poor man is going to turn into a skeleton. At least he's not able to do his crazy workouts right now either. 

Anyways, that's what we ate. Because this is the internet. And that's part of the internet mandate right?? 

Lisa and Tom are back home (we hope, they left last evening) after a whirlwind visit. I'm sure they'll be back somewhat soon if Linda has her way!

And Andrew and I are convalescing in our separate ways. Hopefully his way includes getting non-Comcast internet set up, because I've started edging towards maxing out my abstemious cellular data plan this month!

Happy Easter Monday!

Hope your holidays were wonderful and you have some time to recover now!

Bananas McButternut's Big Move and the Explosive Omphalis

In the Nifty Nineteenth Inning/Week Stretch, boy did some things start to! Mostly in the tummy as the grand SHE-FONZ spread her (yikes!) lovely well-formed (and entirely "normal" in all the best connotations of the phrase) gams to all corners of the womb. Treadmill troubles tanked the normal workday walks, and customer service was unserviceably obstructive. But the course of true treadmill aside, a smoothness lit upon the course of all the important life events. Closing closed in upon our happy (if somewhat stressed) couple, whilst they fled towards Death, Ms. Fischer and the babababallet.  

At the amazing half-way mark of twenty weeks' pregnant: Homes closed, opening new doors literally and figuratively to a grand new familial beginning. Wee ones wend their way up the produce chain with a cheesy coating and avid ears! And the dramatic move from newlywed love nest to gentrified land-owning nobility stutters along with several overextensions and plenty of help. Let the nesting begin!

The Gentry have (been) landed! (ok, technically, the "gentry" have bought into a condominium of which there is land and of which we own a share and access rights to an interior unit... or something)

I think we just propelled ahead several light years into adulthood: proto-kid, sure... but suddenly now we've got real property and a mortgage! Genuine and bonafide and Hancocked with an ocean of ink upon a rainforest of paper! Yes, we own a condo! Yesterday, the hubba-hubby and I arrived at the title company with two Brobdingnagian checks (each representing about a year and a quarter's annual gross income), and our game faces on. 

We were met by our fabulous realtor and ushered upstairs into a signing room. Our mortgage agent came shortly anon with congratulatory coffee beans. Some carpal tunnel and several thousand documents later, we were roundly handshaken and set loose upon the world. The deed will be recorded today (provided no last minute snafus) and we'll have the keys this afternoon! 

Moving truck and minions shall follow on Tuesday, since no weekend times were available with our preferred moving company (IRON MAN!!!). This naturally means I'm all alone in directing the moving men, so there will be a lot of pre-moving preparation required this weekend of Mr. Bike-and-chain. We are pretty well not-packed, although now we have flat boxes which may eventually be reinflated and used as reticules for said packing. They will need some tape and a little tlc first, I think. 

In the meantime, the treadmill remains busted and pointedly neglected by the customer service nobodies at all the various fitness empires associated with my Sear's Sole F-80. We are growing weary and thinking it's time to toss caution to the wind and allow boy-toy David to have a spin with it if he's willing. And he seems to be. He had already researched replacement motors. Hell, it can't hurt at this point unless he manages to electrocute himself; he seems canny enough to avoid undue injury. 

And to celebrate all that, my mom is getting gum surgery today. Because, why not? I guess it's fairly minor and there's no special anaesthesia involved, so something between wisdom teeth extraction and fillings in terms of intensity. I still don't envy her. Yet, she's still willing and able to help her pregger belly button popping daughter pack up her crap this weekend. Because we're both insane but she's momma-insanity, so would rather strain herself while in discomfort than let her daughter do something stupid overextending herself. It all works. 

In the meantime, time to soak up my sedentary stationary work desk until the worker-bee boytoy comes along to gut it and investimagate further. At which point, there may be a walk. Because that's the kind of diligent workday it is today. After all the signing yesterday, I'm officially spent for the next several weeks!

Halfway to Screamalong Superbaby Time!

Twenty weeks, baby. How crazy is that? Squarely in my fifth month of gestation, I'm halfway there! And, I've got an almost popping omphalos to prove it.

Attack of the BIG BELLY and the explosive omphalis

 Really. The stretching hath begun in earnest. I keep feeling like I've pulled various muscles in my abdominal area in all sorts of ways. Sort of like I must have been doing pilates and overstretched... except strike the pilates and keep the overstretching part. Peradventure and perhaps, the cocoa butter doesn't really help with that part. At least it smells nice and helps with the implacable itching!

But produce! We've got produce from to pick! Drumroll please...

1. A banana! BANANAAAAAAA! One of my favorite words to insert randomly and/or to yell. My answer to any question for which I do not desire to proffer sincerity. And a favored evening snack. 

2. A small cantaloupe. What once was my uterus, now shall be my baby. Size-wise. Sort of.

3. An eggplant. Ewww! They're all mushy inside. 

4. A butternut squash? Really? The butternuts we have around these parts are usually like two or three pounds and gigantic. I'd buy a delicata or maybe an acorn squash, but butternut? That's a small butternut baby. 

I love butternut squash. Adore it, but I think I'll embrace banana BANNNAAAAAAHNAAAAH! For this wonderful landmark. 

And the wee one? In addition to getting its yellow peel on, she (so we presume lest our poor ultrasound tech be forced into early retirement) is currently absorbing my immunities! Pretty soon bloviating displays of unabashed confidence and good old fashioned parental guilt will be no match for my little Chiquita! Otherwise, it sounds like not too many significant changes from that last exciting acrobatic ultrasound. Still thrashing about. Still eavesdropping on all my conversations. Still covered in a cheesy vernix and developing her first poop while breathing the same amniotic fluid that she is also urinating and drinking (worse than dogs, these fetuses)... Still possibly kicking me in a fluttery sort of "was that... naw... but... maybe..." kinda way. 

I personally am promised to begin my journey into the next several years of poor sleep. Poorer. The heat and discomfort thing will increase and pretty soon I should start snoring like a hippo. It's commonly advised, I hear, that by the third trimester, I might want to sleep in a separate room with a recliner or a very good body pillow. We'll see. Andrew might already be researching recliners... 

To reaffirm what I already intellectually knew would be a struggle during this move, I am supposed to avoid lifting things of any weight and/or twisting much. Also, I still get overheated and might even start getting heat rashes to complement my other dermal quirks. 

I'm instructed to seek out calm and soothing environments with pleasant soundscapes so that the little thrasher can get her twenty hours of beauty rest (that much? Man hard to imagine - she's so active on the ultrasounds). I rather prefer calm and soothing environments, so I'm down with that. 

Still moving probably doesn't count as calm and soothing and certainly not a great space to avoid twisting and lifting. But really. I am going to try. Really. I swear. OMMMMM. I'll fail. But there will some pittance of effort, I promise.

In the meantime, I'll hold down the fort while mom-boss nurses her gums. For a while. She survived surgery! Whoooo! It took about an hour longer than predicted, but she came out fine (numbed up to have stroke patient lips, but fine) and spent much of her evening last night alternating between icing and gargling and otherwise obeisantly according all actions precisely to her release instructions. With the novocain having worn off, we'll see how she feels today, but I suspect that she'll be out for the day and I'm not writing her in for the weekend with any kind of indelible ink. 

I may not be entirely "in" for the day either. I'll blame the little banana! But I'm not sure I was ever super "in" to begin with. 

Besides, it's FRIDAY!!!! This weekend is a little terrifying, but can't wait to get to the middle of April. It's going to be so nice to relax in that "calm and soothing environment" that I'm supposed to seek out. 

Sockses in Boxes And a Moveable Weekend

The grand 2015 move has begun in earnest. With zesty brio, Andrew pulled up a carpet in the basement (our version of smashing champagne bottles on imaginary hulls, I presume). And after no further fanfare, we were off! Off our rockers (and tumbled halfway 'cross the room) mostly. And maybe I was a wee bit off my game. Whatever my game might be (Space Cadet pinball?). I just could not help myself from trying to pack. I'd find boxes or tape I didn't remember having and suddenly mad afflatus would strike for an hour or two of fevered moving, taping and loading. Usually ending when I: (1) ran out of tape/boxes, (2) realized I was so light headed that I couldn't walk straight and nearly fainted, (3) further continued to feel like various little areas of my abdomen were rending apart (largely from the expanding belly bump, but twisting and moving has not been helping). 

This is why I should not be left alone with boxes. It's too maddening not to attempt to fill them. And once their full, they need to be stacked. It's irresistible.

In the interim - to distract myself - I suppose I did also take a few walks and do the dishes. I'm not sure that helped as much as the few times I nearly managed to get myself nice and passed out on the couch. Inevitably those almost-naps would commence just as my industrious bike-wielding husband would return home from his bike-dungeon excursions. 

Our last load was quite lovely though. He loaded, I continued throwing things in the boxes he'd brought home from U-Haul. We went to dinner and then to our lovely new palace. There, he *un*loaded, which I got to start unpacking. Just the beginning but oh how grand it felt. 

Of course once we returned home, I discovered that the remaining stuff had bred once more and repopulated the entire house. Thus we must begin anew today. And perhaps every day until the plague of stuffness has been definitively eradicated. 

Moving Monday Manias and Magical Working Respites

Phew, what a weekend. Andrew naturally focused on his bike dungeon. Specifically on the project that has evolved from "removing the carpet so that it won't get all gross and blechy anyways." First it came up pretty easily, but some things or other were nailed to the ground. And then there's glue. And now there are little pock marks in the cement. So Andrew will be uprooting things and filling holes for the next several weeks. But when he's done, it will be the perfect frigging floor for a bike dungeon. And he'll finally be able to move all the stuff that is carefully staged in the future "play room" (the other room in the basement area) into his dungeon. 

Before then, we'll actually move, though. Because this is a long term project and the movers want our stuff packed up before they arrive on Tuesday. 

Despite his particular focus, I think we made a pretty decent team this weekend. I naturally continued to overextend myself filling boxes (and moving heavy things from time to time), but he did finally intervene on the "moving heavy things into and out of cars and condos" part. And that was definitely the more important part.

 He came home from his project a few times each day. Each time, he loaded up all the boxes I'd packed. I'd join, unpack the boxes, and return with said boxes for another round of packing. Yes, I'm doing most of the packing for "the household" but that moving part is pretty crucial. And I think we're clear that tonight, the Andrew study and clothing will be handled by Mr. Hubba-hubba. 

So far, so good: A large portion of the household has been transported to the new place. The kitchen is down to the bare necessities to last us until the official move. The walls are bare. My clothes are down to a laundry basket of essentials. There's a bunch of garbage and Goodwill stuff enmeshed with the remaining essentials and that will take some sorting, but we're on schedule to be clean-outta-there before the final cleaning and key-divestment on Friday afternoon. 

The kitchen is even somewhat unpacked at the new place! Thank goodness! Of course, I've emptied out most of our stores of back up food, so I predict an onrush of April "nesting" behavior as I strive to restock our generally extensive freezer meal collection. Or maybe just nestling into a comfy sofa somewhere and refusing to remove myself for the remainder of the month. I'm pretty beat!

But oh do I love our new place so far. There is so much room! I thought I'd miss the vast pantry at our old place, but turns out it was only needed because the kitchen was relatively smaller. Everything fits just fine. This is a lovely revelation. 

Anyways, I've definitely gotten a jump start on that lower back pain that's endemic in pregnancy after the real belly burst. And I'm here for one fairly normal day of work before another blitz!

But we're so much closer! It's very exciting!!

Bye Bye Newlywed Shack - Hello Family Home 

We will be back of course for the next few days, but today marks the official MOVE DATE. Young men are here hauling our ridiculously difficult furniture into a truck. By tonight, we'll be unwired (unless Andrew magically makes Comcast work with us quickly), and living in our very own condo. 

nestling into our very own new bedroom

I'm really thrilled to move into our first real official home, but this place will always have a soft spot for me as the place where the (W)rights first cohabitated. I can't believe it's been two years. Our anniversary is next Monday and we've lived here the entire duration of our marriage! We've had some truly beautiful moments of sitting in bed, watching the sun rise over the bay. We've thoroughly broken in that living room and cozied up on the couch space. We've battled extensively over the climate control (or lack thereof during the summer). And we've had a really wonderful landlady. I am so hoping she doesn't feel like the wear and tear we leave her with is a sign we didn't give the place our TLC. 

It's a ritual sort of stripping of vestiges, watching the innards that made it home slowly flitter away. Once this is an empty shell, the resemblance will be minimal at most. But plenty of time to say goodbye between the grunts and panics of our very wonderful movers. 

But I am so ready for nesting to commence soon. After the dreadful unpacking slog. We may have gotten a head start (thank goodness), but oh did we fill all of those boxes and then some today in the final rushes!