Kathryn. Real.

A strange thing happens when you stay at home with no need to put dates on things.  You (or at least I) enter a time vortex which renders you unable to remember the date or even the day forcing you to ask your husband (or you know, whomever else is around) to remind you of these things once, sometimes four times a day.  So, yesterday was apparently Tuesday.  Oh well.

Also, I thought of a really good confession that makes me want to bury my head in shame and protest loudly that "I was young!  I was finding myself!"  But in order to fully tell the story I’m going to have to delve into the ‘ol memory bank to remember the details.  So tuned in for that next week.

In the meantime, this weeks confession is that I am crafty.  And cheap thrifty.  For example, I really like these necklaces but I can’t afford to buy one (and probably couldn’t justify the cost even if I could).  So I went to the craft store and bought some beads and came up with my own version.

Same thought here.  I just can’t spend that amount of money on jewelry, so I made my own version.

Then I went a little nuts with it and have been making around two pieces a day for Christmas presents.  They’re all in the extended entry if you want to see them.  I’m having so much fun, and the materials are super cheap inexpensive.  Last night I made a necklace and bracelet while watching one of my favorite X-Files episodes.  Life is good.

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Drew and H-man are in town for Thanksgiving so we were able to get together FINALLY!  I could gush for days about Harper and his mama too but for now let me just say that Harper is seriously cute.  He’s like a little butterball of joyfull atomic energy.  I love him.

I have a freakishly small head.  So small in fact, I can wear this hat normally. 

Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s an X-files marithon on the Sci-fi channel, the baby is napping, and I’ve got a hot cup of pumpkin spice fair trade coffee waiting.  C’est ma vie en rose, n’est pas?

Oh, and also?  I fell even more deeply in love with the Fug girls today for their tribute to Stick-Bug Spice.  Take a look at the shot from behind.  Ya’ll, her ass cheek is the same size as her hand. 

Is it me or did last week’s Grey’s feel like one giant punch in the face to working moms?

Since last week was such an Ellis-in-digital-motion heavy week I thought I’d change things up a bit and post this video of miss Bella dog. She’s really adjusted so well to not being the constant center of attention. This is one of her favorite games.

Ellis, 

You just turned 10 months old.  That’s only two months away from one whole year you know.  It’s been a big month for you.  What with learning how to cruise and clap, and feed yourself, and wave and nod yes or no.  You hardly let us spoon feed you anymore, preferring to pain stakingly pinch each piece of food with your thumb and forefinger and bring it to your mouth while dropping the food about 75% of the time.  The dauggers couldn’t be happier.  You love to wave bye bye to Da da when he leaves for work, and hello to any one of the animals when they come into the room.  You wave all day long, but you won’t wave to strangers.  No sir.  When a stranger talks to you it’s time to bury your head in mom’s chest and peak out coquettishly.  Where did you learn that?

After fighting with you during bed-time for about 5 months now, I decided this month that I couldn’t take it anymore.  You would whine, fight, and kick me until you passed out each night before bed.  It put your ‘ole mom in a seriously bad mood every single night.  So we started a bedtime routine, and moved your crib into our room, and suddenly bed time is sprinkled with sugar.  Our ritual is bath (well, some days), diaper change/jammies, then Teletubbies, then you ask to get into your crib where you crawl around happily for about 15 minutes before laying down and closing your eyes all on your own.  Hallelujah.

Speaking of Teletubbies, you love them.  You love them so deeply that sometimes you try to climb into the television to go live in Teletubby land where you can eat tubby toast and tubby custard, and strange things come from out of the sky and from under the ground, and your pet doubles as a vacuum cleaner, and there are long stretches of the day where you do nothing but dance and giggle.  La-la is your favorite.  Your face lights up like sunshine every time you see her.  You dance every time her ball bounces.  This scene is seriously cute. 

It’s November, which is traditionally speaking, the month for expressing thankfulness.  Growing up, we would all go around the table and say what we were thankful for.  I’m ashamed to say that I have always had trouble thinking of something.  It’s not that I wasn’t thankful for anything but more that those feelings of thankfulness weren’t at the top of my brains list of things to think about.  I always felt a little guilty about that.  Since you have come into the world though, the acknowledgment of just how blessed I am is always in the forefront of my mind.  Not a day goes by that I do not marvel at how thankful I am for you.  So in honor of your first Thanksgiving, here is a list of just a few of the things you have given me for which I am so very thankful.

1. Thank you for opening my eyes and heart so wide that they will never again be as closed as they were before you.  I see the world through Ellis colored glasses.  I ache more for mothers, fathers, and children who are living lives of fear, oppression, poverty, or abuse.  I am more joyful when I see a family in the park having fun.  I am more aware of how what I do to our planet will effect your life later on. 

2. Thank you for communicating so clearly that I usually know what you want or need.  Your expressions speak volumes.

3. Thank you for laughing when I jump around acting like a complete idiot.  I would do just about anything for the sound of your giggles.

4. Thank you for being such an affectionate little guy.  One of my favorite things that you do is make a mommy pit-stop when you’re crawling around the house playing.  You’ll climb right in my lap and snuggle up to me for a few minutes before taking off again.  I love that.

5. Thank you for giving fabulous kisses whenever we ask, and even when we don’t.  You dole those things out to the whole family, even Bella-dog and Tucker.

6. Thank you for loving a good book.  It’s something I hope we’ll be able to continue to share as you grow up.

7. Thank you for being a ham in front of the camera.  You love it when I take your picture so I always get some smiles before you start to roll your eyes like "OK mom, enough jeesh." 

8. Thank you for forgiving me so readily when I screw up. 

9. Thank you for the way you look at me.  It allows me to see value in myself on days when I’m having a hard time doing so.  Everyone should be looked at with that much love at least once in their lives.  Especially from eyes as blue as yours.

10. Thank you for choosing me as your mom, I am infinitely amazed and grateful that you did.

I love you little man,

Mom

And for some reason it’s cracking me up today.

From the urban dictionary-

Fundy: 

function: noun/slang

an uneducated religious enthusiast; one who disputes faith claims in theology based on what another unedicated religious enthusiast has said (even though they don’t understand); one who reads the Holy Bible and claim to understand; one who makes a claim to know God or a god(s); someone way worse than an Evangelical Christian; a restrictive paradigm that disables (to some extent) reason, history, experience and tradition in order to come to terms with how much life sucks

Carl said, "Do you think that God could be a woman? Or maybe God’s a blob of hamburger.
"Uh," Kevin the fundy said, "God is our Father."
"Why do you have to capitalize Father," Carl said, "when you talk about God."
"Cuz HE’s GOD," Kevin said.
Carl said, "god god god god god."
"Don’t," said Kevin irrationally, "It’s God, not god. And He loves you."
"Oh yeah?" Kevin said, "Then how can a loving god send someone to hell?"
Carl replied piously, "Because Jesus loves you that much. He died on the cross so that you might live forever."
"Fuck that!"
"I love you, Carl," Kevin said. "I don’t want to see you do the wrong thing; go to hell, you know?"
"god god god god god… I fucked jesus in the ass!" Carl screamed. "Kevin, do you ever think that your devotion to God has anything to do with the fact that there is nothing of substance inside you, that you’re shallow?"
"That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," Kevin protested.

And Carl went to hell… and sucked Hitler’s titty… and got hairs in his teeth… and was kind of irritated for the first week… then he was like, "Ghandi? Is that you?" And Ghandi was all, "Yeah, bitch. Turns out the uneducated sonsubitches were right." Carl said, "Luck of the draw, I guess." "Indeed," Ghandi replied. Rodney Dangerfield said, "I went to the lake, and asked JFK if he wanted to take a dip with me and Joan of Arc. He hopped in and i said, ‘Hey, hot enough for ya?’ Joan of Arc said, ‘I’ve had worse.’"

The moral of the story is, God loves you if God can control you.

I am still struggling with the way Ellis came into the world.  I don’t regret my decision to have a c-section.  I made the best choice that I could at the time.  I listened to my doctors advice.  I did the right thing.  Some days though, when I think about being pregnant, it’s like there’s a disconnect between the baby that was inside me and Ellis.  I’m not sure it would be so strong if I had seen or felt him come out of my body.  It still angers me when I think about how they whisked my obviously healthy baby away after giving me only a glance.  Half a second, then off he went.  It angers me when I think about how they terrified me into letting them feed him his first meal (formula) instead of me.  Then they whisked him away again.  I read so much about preparing to give birth, and nothing really about what happens after.  Because I watched so much "A baby story" I assumed that they would clean the baby up and bring him right to me as they closed me up.  I really feel like the hospital should re-think their policy with healthy kiddos. 

My biggest regret is that I feel like I have missed out on a right of passage of sorts by not having labored.  I have a child, yet I still have no idea what it’s like to birth a child.  I want to know what it feels like when my water breaks.  I want to know what it feels like to hold my baby while he’s still attached to the umbilical cord.  I want to watch Kent cut the cord.  I want that so badly.  Yes, a healthy baby is the goal of any birth, and I know labor is not fun, but I can’t seem to shake this feeling. 

Next time I hope I’ll be able to do things very differently.

Early this morning as the three of us were slowly waking up while snuggling and just generally soaking up the lovey goodness, I tackle-hugged my boy and said "look what I caught!"  To which Kent replied, "Yep, you threw out a line of cute and caught an Ellis on the end."

I don’t want this weekend to be over.

Dear ABC,

I hate you.

Sincerely, Kathryn Tschoepe