are things complicated yet?

About the time I broke up with my imaginary friend

When I was a preschooler, I had an imaginary friend. Her name was Dina (Deena? I don't know. I am sure I never wrote it out.) My mother will tell you, without hesitation, that having an imaginary friend is a sign of great intelligence. 

Anyway. Dina was around for a while, several months I think. This was when we lived in New Orleans and one day as my mother came up to Canal while we were in the car I said something to her about how Dina needed to get out and this was not an altogether unusual request. I often told her about things Dina needed or wanted to do and because she is a good mother she played along.

Mom mumbled something like, "Hrmm, okay then". (As you do.) I was more insistent and told her that Dina needed to get out of the car and HOW was she going to do that if you don't open the door, MOM?

At a stoplight, she opened her door briefly and then shut it.

I never brought up Dina again. It appears I kicked my imaginary friend out of our car somewhere on Canal Street in 1982. (I have always wondered what Dina said or did to prompt such a harsh break-up. Canal is not the plushest of streets to be abandoned on.)

***

Claire doesn't have an imaginary friend (yet?) but I wonder if this sort of thing doesn't happen all that much these days? Is there something about the new millennium that prohibits imaginary friends? I don't know anyone in real life or on the internet that has a child with an imaginary friend. Or, are imaginary friends now frowned upon? I have no idea.

Anyway, Claire is showing signs of a very active imagination. It's fascinating to see what she comes up with and how elaborate she can make it. Perhaps most startling is how ACCURATE she can be sometimes, about things that she's only seen or heard mentioned once.

It started a few months ago with small things ("My baby's name is Addison." At the time, it was the name of the only other baby she'd ever known.) It has now developed into full afternoons imagining a play tent as a carousel with stuffed animals inside (all with names) and then leading a parade through the house with her baby buggies.

There's an episode of Sesame Street that involves someone having a Muppet chicken in his shirt and Claire has taken to making a very sad face and telling me that something is wrong and when I say, "Oh, no! What is wrong!?" with mock terror she responds with a sly grin and tells me, "THARS A CHICKEN IN MA SHIRT! GET IT OUT!" Then we play a game of where is that pesky chicken in your shirt and now that I have him where should I put him and so on and so forth.

Chicken-in-my-shirt is good for at least a half hour of entertainment. Living with tiny humans is so much fun.

The California Adventure

It has been hot this summer. (As you know.) In Texas, it has been really and truly awful. We are on day 61 of 100-plus-degrees this year. I know that in other parts of the country and world it gets hotter or there are hurricanes or earthquakes and yes, the weather can be sucktacular in all places but what I am describing to you is less about heat and more about something like house arrest with a newborn and preschooler FOR THREE MONTHS STRAIGHT.

Just think about that for a moment. Inside, for 90-odd days, with an energetic preschooler and a newborn. Twenty-four-hours a day, seven days a week. Yeahhhhhhh. It works something like this: I can go to the pool when it's 110-degrees outside and Claire probably can too, for a little bit, but I can't take teeny Charlotte outside when it's that hot and expect her to nap peacefully in her car seat. I would basically be baking the baby.

Similarly, I can go to the playground and Claire probably can too, for a little bit, and she might have to stay off the slide so it doesn't burn her legs, but I can't take the baby out there. It's just too damn hot for a baby. She can't regulate her own body temperature but that doens't really matter as she's not a reptile in the first place and doesn't gain anything by BAKING HERSELF. Same goes for walks around the block, riding scooters and bikes, playing tag, blowing bubbles, water table, popsicles on the porch. TOO DAMN HOT.

The above items are about the limit of (free) outdoor activities in suburban north Texas during the summertime for children. We have no mountains, no National Parks, no rivers to float. We do have some lakes, but I don't have a boat and small children near a lake where I can't see the murky bottom kind of freak me out, so no lakes for us.

This is a very long and complainy way to say we were all getting very bored of looking at each other while the ceiling fan rotated above our heads. A vacation was in order. We had to leave the state. Chris initially wanted to go to Estes Park, Colorado. Mountains! Cool air! A National Park to explore! Sounds nice, yes? Then we got an invitation from my best friend to come visit her in California. She lives less than a mile from the beach, has an extra bedroom, a daughter Claire's age and, this is key, ALL THE BABY CRAP WE COULD WANT. Crib! Double stroller! Blankets! Bjorn! Boppy! Bouncy seat! Rocking chair! Washing machine and dryer! An extra pair of hands and eyes!

Hmmm. This sounded good. This sounded very good. We priced out airfare and it was just over $1,000. We could fly ourselves to Estes Park for about $400 in fuel, but then we'd have to pay for lodging and there was no stockpile of baby accessories in Estes Park and....hrmmmm. California sounds verrrrry nice, actually. But then I went to book the tickets and in the four hours since I'd last checked they doubled in price. Also, there were not two seats together on any of the seven or eight outbound flights. Shit. No California.

And then, through the absolute magic that is Twitter, Chris found a flash sale from Virgin America and we got non-stop tickets to LAX for the entire family for $650, which is a CRAZYPANTS deal. We pounced. We booked a rental car. We booked a night at a hotel near Disneyland. I started doing laundry. We were leaving in less than a week!

***

The flight was awesome. Virgin America has some lovely aircraft and very nice people working for them. Highly recommend. I did not really worry about flying with a three-month-old and almost three-year-old too much because I was going to haul them on the plane no matter what. Screaming? Get on the plane. We are going where it is cool outside come hell or high water. It's less than three hours. I can put up with anything for less than three hours.

Turns out they were both dreamboats. Charlotte slept in my arms for almost the whole flight and Claire was sufficiently entertained with an iPhone for most of the trip.

Our first stop was Disneyland. This is the borrowed stroller, a Phil and Teds. I was grateful for ANY transportation that would haul them both around but this stroller kind of kicked ass. Chris got a lot of comments and looks while he was pushing it around. It was pretty perfect for us. Claire could easily jump in and out up front and Charlotte was fairly comfy in the back. She fell asleep in it often and with a hat and blankets we thought we kept her well-shaded. (FORESHADOWING.)

We had no agenda, plans or expectations with taking the girls to Disneyland. We just figured that we were in the neighborhood so we should go and make an event of it. Her favorite ride was the tea cups, which also happens to be MY favorite ride. We strolled and saw characters and had a nice lunch. Pretty simple stuff.

After a fun day we headed to the hotel about 3p for naps and showers. We had dinner reservations that evening before World of Color - some kind of fountain, music, light show that is supposed to be awesome and Maggie told me it was can't miss. We put the baby in the pack and play the hotel provided, tucked Claire into a bed and everyone had some quiet time.

Two hours later we woke everyone up. As I was dressing the baby I noticed that her face was red. Very, very red, actually. Her arms were red too. Perhaps it was the eczema, coming back again? Except...it never really looked like this. Eczema was more peely and rough and this was bright, bright red. Was the baby...sunburned? No, not possible! We'd kept her covered up all day long! I am very annoying about making sure she is covered up at all times (but not hot) but her skin is so red and OHMYGOD I THINK WE SUNBURNED THE BABY WE ARE TERRIBLE PARENTS. I was mortified. It was so unlike me to let this happen. How did this happen? Gahhhh.

I guessed she'd be somewhat uncomfortable later but I figured that might be the extent of the damage. It didn't look *too* bad. She was acting just fine and dandy. But, then I Googled "baby sunburn" and everything came back uniformly consistent on what to do next (which the internet almost NEVER is, about ANYTHING): Call your doctor at once if you suspect your baby has a sunburn.

Shit.

Primary concerns with a sunburned baby were dehydration, but Charlotte had been eating like a champ all day. I didn't think she was dehydrated. She also wasn't cranky in the slightest. She didn't act like her face and arms hurt and what was also odd is that I'd felt like her chubby legs had been exposed to more sun (if any, because really, she was VERY COVERED UP ALL DAY). But perhaps there was some odd reflection that bounced the rays up under her hat? I don't know. Her face is just so RED. GAH GAH GAH. As I fretted over what to do next, Chris was toweling the baby's face with a wet washcloth.

I called the night nurse, since it was 6p in California and 8p in Texas by now. As I described her symptoms the oddest thing began to happen: the redness was rapidly dissipating. Over three or four minutes it totally vanished. Chris had an ah-ha moment and pointed at the sheet in the pack and play. It had probably been washed in some sort of horrible, industrial strength bleachy detergent concoction and she was probably having a reaction to having her face on it while she slept. This made a little bit of sense as all we use at home is hippie laundry soap. When Chris was toweling her face, it must have removed some of the irritant. Night nurse agreed that might be it, but to call tomorrow if she was still red, but since she wasn't upset and was still eating not to worry for the time being. Watch and wait.  

We bathed Charlotte, waited about ten minutes and the whole thing vanished. I breathed a big sigh of relief. We did not sunburn the baby. (I knew it!)

In that hour of fret we had missed our dinner reservation and Claire was SUPER cranky (I think she would have slept until morning if we'd let her). We sort of looked at each other and knew that it was a terrible idea to go back to the park with our two kids. Even if we could get Charlotte back to sleep at some point, Claire was beyond done with being conscious for the day. We went to a pizza joint a few blocks away, had some beers and came back to the hotel. Wise decision. There was no World of Color for us on this trip.

When we got back to the hotel we had an unanticipated problem: What was the baby supposed to sleep on? We were using the 2 blankets we'd brought to double swaddle her and she had barfed on every burp rag we'd brought with us. We looked around for a bit and finally put one of Chris' undershirts on the bottom of the crib.

And that is how Charlotte's first trip to Disneyland and overnight stay in a hotel went. Looks like we should spring for a place with classier linens next time. (Haaaa, I kid. We were in a Fairfield Inn by Marriott, which is a perfectly fine, if relatively simple place to stay. Seriously, I ADORE Marriott properties. Bring your own crib sheet, though.) (Which, I actually thought about bringing my own but we were space limited on luggage so I sacrificed it at the last minute. Lesson learned.)

I finished decorating the nursery. Four months after she was born. WHAT?

Here's where we left off with the nursery, back in March:

Today, we finally hung up the letters for her name and stuck the red paper butterflies on the wall. You know, FIVE MONTHS LATER. (We are excellent with decor deadlines.) (Whatever, she has been sleeping in a pack and play in my room since she was born.)

Here are the letters:

And, letters with red paper butterflies:

I love them. I bought them from Etsy seller Hip and Clavicle, and they were $36 for 20. Which, now that I think about it sounds like a lot for paper butterflies, but let's be honest here. Even if I COULD make these? I WOULDN'T. Not right now at least. When I ordered them I wasn't sure if 20 was enough and now that I have them on the wall (they came with a little bit of adhesive on them already and it's pretty stout), I think I might like another 20. I'd like them to be far more concentrated in the upper left and higher up on the wall, maybe one or five even on the ceiling.

I think I'll quit while I'm ahead. (For now, at least.) 

(View the entire nursery set, start-to-finish, on Flickr.)

Beachy baby says hi (Claire says hello, too)

 

 

How I know my name is coming into fashion

Claire has a birthday coming up (I know, I can't believe it either) and Tiny Prints had a 20% discount running, so I visited the site today, intending to shop for party invitations. The header scrolled a few times and THIS came up and I almost spit out my Ghirardelli Vanilla Caramel:

Do you see it? The name featured on the products? (Low res, because it was tiny)

Her name is ADELE. That seventeen-year-old-ish looking girl, heading to college is named ADELE. Spelled differently, but still. My name! On the front page of TinyPrints.com! On a seventeen-year-old! WHATEVER, THAT IS SO NOT HER NAME. I think we all know that the likelihood of meeting a seventeen-year-old Adele is pretty slim.

Have you noticed retailers doing this? They take popular names for today's baby-naming parents and use them as sample names on products, no matter what age group the product is intended for? Writers on TV shows do this too, the most glaring one being Private Practice. Seriously: Charlotte, Addison, Naomi, Amelia, Cooper, Sam, Violet, Pete, Dell (!) and Sheldon. REALLY???? These are the names their parents gave them in the sixties and fifties? I think not. They just picked these names because today's viewer finds them audibly attractive and we don't know anyone their age to project our existing thoughts on and tarnish their carefully crafted personas. This is a topic you can Google all night long and I think it's totally fascinating.

My name, in its most common spelling, hasn't even been in the top 1,000 since 1969. (I was born in 1979.) Just last year, in 2010, did it finally break the top 1,000 again (at #981). (I am guessing that's due to the popularity of the singer, Adele.) Over the last 150 years the name peaked in 1914 (but even then, only at #181).

Here, look at this snazzy chart from the nice people at Baby Name Wizard. Popular-popular-popular and then not at all and then a teensy blip back up in 2010.

My name is a hybrid of the last name O'Dell and a first name starting with A. (I confess, I might have the details wrong but it's something like that. It's been decades since I asked for the story.) It's my mother's college roomate's name. It would appear that some parents were inventing their own spellings in the fifties and it's not an altogether new trend. For the record, I really love my name. I never wanted another name and the only problem I've ever had is the apostrophe really screws up databases in today's modern era. But, small problem. I love the way it looks in print, I like the sound of it and I love-love-love that I don't know a single adult with my name. It makes me feel unique, but in a good way. Because the name is unusual, it's kind of like an insta-brand (for better or worse). I've had colleagues pick my name out of a conversation from across the room and ten years ago. It sticks out in my age group.

This might be interesting, because I did not go out of my way to choose particularly unique names for my girls. Truth be told, I really liked the names Emily and Emma and others in the top 20. (Chris did not - pffft! Boys.) We didn't choose them simply because they weren't OUR baby girl names, but I never discounted them because of their popularity. I was fine giving my kids a popular name. I was more concerned about finding a name I loved. Perhaps this is because I don't have a popular name and don't have any negative connotations on the topic.

All my life I have been the only Adele I'd ever heard of and the only Adele anyone else had ever heard of. Certainly, I was the only A'Dell. In just the past six months that has all changed. I met a six-week-old Adele at the playground a few weeks ago. Natalie has an Adele. After 32 years of never, ever meeting another Adele, I know two of them! Three, if you count the singer! It also appears that art directors are naming models Adele, that probably have the actual name Jessica.

No, seriously, here are the top 20 names from 1994, which is when our seventeen-year-old model would have been born. There's nothing in here that even looks like Adele.

This is kind of interesting, because Swistle and a few others have noticed a trend where names come back into vogue about 100 years after they peak. I wonder if Adele will make a quick climb up the charts over the next few years? There's a long way to go from #981 to the top tier of most commonly used names, but, I don't know, MAYBE? It would be such hilarity for me to be surrounded by baby Adeles after such a long time of being the one and only.

I suppose I'll know my name has really hit the bigtime when I open Pottery Barn Kids and see it embroidered on something preppy that costs too much. Yes, that is when I'll know that my parents had some serious vision when choosing a name for their firstborn.

What about you guys? Do you like your name? Did you go out of your way to choose a common/uncommon name for your kids? 

Thirteen weeks later

I look at this picture, and it seems like it was taken thirteen years ago, rather than thirteen weeks ago. (Look at her skinny, spindly legs!)

In some ways it really WAS a long time ago. Charlotte was four days old in this picture. I look at myself and I kind of shake my head and laugh because in this moment I remember being very excited to not be pregnant any more. That, more than anything else, might have been my overriding thought that first week. Even today, it's freaking awesome to not be pregnant any more. (Especially almost 42 weeks pregnant. I can't say that I recommend it as a must-do life experience.) Really, I feel like I don't even KNOW that girl any more. So much has changed.

I didn't know what was in store and I didn't know how to mother two children and I wasn't sure I'd even be very good at it. I wasn't sure how long the crazy behavior with Claire would last, I didn't know what regressions were in our future and I doubted very sincerely that I'd ever get a good night's sleep for a while. I feel like thirteen-weeks-ago me was pretty innocent. I had no idea what was in front of me. I was walking blindly into a very dark room.

I have had some really frustrating days in those thirteen weeks. I have done things and said things I'm not too proud of. I have picked fights and lost my temper. I have been petty. I have sent a small person to time out for minor infractions. I have also had a great time these past thirteen weeks. I have never spent this much time with my family, ever. Chris and I see each other more often. We eat better meals. Claire and I get to spend entire days exploring and playing and taking care of Charlotte. We are happier now, both with Charlotte finally here and some life stresses we've removed from our plate.

Weeks 5-9 were bad. Baaaaad. They're sort of "lost weeks" and you can tell that I didn't do much other than keep people fed because there are hardly any photos. I didn't play dress up with the baby because she was crying all the time. Claire and I didn't do many outings because the baby was crying all the time. I didn't really post because the baby was crying all the time. I was a bit slow to recognize the reflux and I think I was even in some measure of denial, because I knew that if it was reflux it wasn't a fluke and and it was going to last a lot longer than the one moment I was currently in. 

I didn't want it to last longer than the one moment. I was hopeful it would stop in the next moment. But, of course, it didn't until we got her on the right drugs. 

Coming up on Week 14, we're in a really good place. Things have shifted very noticeably in the past two weeks to a new normal. Adults in this house are getting almost enough sleep and there's even a measure of some predictability to our days and nights. Things are getting done, everyone is getting fed, progress is being made. We are even a breath away from something resembling a routine and a schedule.

I am not sure what I was expecting, but this? This exceeds my expectations, by far. Life is good. 

On being a grown-up

I am not sure when it happened but sometime in the past few years I stumbled into a stunningly adult part of my life where shit starts to go wrong. You know the part I'm talking about, right? Where you have these pristinely awful Adult Type Problems that simply were not even on the radar as something that was actually POSSIBLE a few years ago?

For example, friends getting divorced. Man, that sucks. Suddenly I am at the part of my life where my friends get divorced (not in large numbers or anything, but it happens). You think you know people and BAM! You do not. Now, I don't wish to delve into the why or the how of my friends getting divorced because, frankly, that is all their business and totally none of mine. The part that I find sucky is the dissolution of a marriage that was once a source of happiness to me. (Yes, right now I am making other people's divorces about me, what of it?) I will not boldly assume that anyone's marriage was once a source of happiness to them, but I hope it was, at some point. Anyway, I thought I had these friends that seemed happy and I enjoyed their happiness, as you do when people you love are happy and SMACK! Reality check.

Also, bad things happening to kids. No longer am I in the sunny period where my friends aren't even married yet or don't have children. You know, The Days Where Bad Things Happened to OTHER PEOPLE'S Kids? But, bad things happen to my friend's kids now. Fingers get chopped off, they get sick and die, they get in accidents and die, they have potentially fatal allergies, they get in car accidents, they are victims of medical malpractice, they get bullied at school, they bonk their heads, etc, etc, etc. Aghhhhhh. I cannot abide bad things happening to the children in my life. (This also means bad things might happen to MY children and....no. No no no no no no no.)

And, taxes. I remember when I could file my return in twenty minutes with good old 1040EZ. You know, back when I didn't actually PAY any taxes because I made so little money? Yes, those were the days. Now that I actually pay taxes (as everyone should, no matter their income level) I find that I think about how I can pay less in taxes all the time. Really, you say that XYZ is tax deductible? This makes it more attractive to me. What? If I order from Amazon I don't have to pay sales tax? Add to cart. I pay someone else to do my taxes these days, which is also Very Adult. I have found that once you leave 1040EZ behind and you have a Journalism degree, you have no business doing your own taxes. At least, I don't. You might. But, not me. A very nice man named Keith does my taxes.

When a pet dies. That reallllly sucks. (I still find myself having idle thoughts about, "Where is Jake?")

For all the crap things there are some parts about being an adult that I quite enjoy. Drinking is pretty high on the list. Oh, how I enjoy me some booze. It is still thrilling for me to walk into a liquor store and buy whatever I want or go to a restaurant and order a beer. I still register delight when they actually bring it to me. The day after my twenty-first birthday was the first day of the rest of my life and I don't think that's a bad thing AT ALL.

I also like not sharing a bathroom with my brother any more. Man, those years sucked. I'm glad to be an adult and have my own bathroom I do not have to share with my brother.

Other things I enjoy about being an adult: buying whatever I want at the grocery store, leaving my clothes on the floor of my closet (oh, wait, I did that as a young person too), not having to do homework. (The knowledge that I will never have to do homework ever again is a very, very happy thought to me. Oh, I hated homework and tests and classes. Blech.) 

I would say voting gives me a lot of joy but voting is really kind of a pain in the ass. (When can we just email our choice? Seriously, it is 2011.) I like the idea that only an adult and mature person can vote and I enjoy the privilege of voting, but the actual act leaves a lot to be desired what with the parking and the lines and the surly people checking my ID and the electronic machine that was designed by a fourth-grader. It's all very...clumsy.

I also enjoy giving other people's kids stern looks or short phrases that let them know that I am a Mommy and a Grown-Up and I? I do not approve of the current behavior, young man/lady. You are not getting away with that just because your mom isn't paying attention right now. Ohhhh, that's very satisfying. Like, when we're at Chick-fil-A and some kid is hassling Claire or pushing her? I have no problem going into that playground, looking directly at said child and saying, "Hitting is wrong. Stop hitting her. I am going to go talk to your mother now and see what she thinks about this." BAM! I AM GOING TO TALK TO YOUR MOM. TAKE THAT, BOSSY KID.

Hrmmm. That might be it. Is there something I've missed? What do you love or hate about being an adult? I bet you guys have good thoughts.

Oh! One more thing I like: Being in charge of when we stop for milkshakes. It is awesome to just stop at Sonic and order a milkshake whenever I want to. Claire I share a milkshake about once a week and whenever I announce that today is a day we are stopping for a milkshake her eyes get really big and I can tell that I've just blown her mind. Milkshake Control is definitely a pretty decent part of being an adult.

Because sometimes you need to make a list to see that you really did accomplish something today

Today, I:

1. Fed all children and self. Cleaned up after each meal.

2. Made coffee for Chris. In a to-go cup. Am wife of the century.

3. Made coffee for myself. (Of course.)

4. Loaded and unloaded dishwasher, twice. WHERE IS MY PARADE?

5. Hand washed some dishes. Left some other ones in the sink because I hate hand washing dishes and I have a short fuse on that chore.

6. Planned meals for the week. Went to Walmart and bought food for the meals. Forgot one thing and left another in the basket in the parking lot. Kind of annoyed about that.

7. Made grilled cheese for lunch. Cut Claire's into the shape of a flower with a cookie cutter. She didn't eat it. Later, when she saw it in the trash, "Mommy!? Why you throw away my pretty sandwich???!" Sigh.

8. Bathed the baby.

9. Washed diapers. Hung diapers to dry on the line outside. Collected them. Stuffed them. Put them back on the changing table.

10. Organized a drawer in the kitchen. Thre away four liquid medicine syringes, the top to a container we don't own any more, a bendy straw that melted in the dishwasher and a single blue birthday cake candle.

11. Watched Toy Story 3. (Again. OMFG THAT MOVIE. What is the strange power it has over children??!)

12. Washed a load of towels. Dried them. Didn't fold them.

13. Showered. Put on makeup.

14. Ran on treadmill for 18 entire minutes before the baby woke up. (Don't worry, this list is not in order. I showered looooong before I got on the treadmill this afternoon.)

15. Painted with Claire.

16. Sent Claire to room for flinging paint on me.

17. Fed baby several times.

18. Changed several diapers.

19. Built a really colossal marble run.

20. Put the sourdough starter I made on Saturday into a container in the fridge. Thought about making sourdough bread, but decided it sounded like too much work.

Still left to do today:

1. Take another shower. 18 minutes on the treadmill is just enough time to get really, really sweaty. Will try to fit that it in the MORNING next time.

2. Tell Chris what he's making for dinner. (Turkey burgers.)

3. Make banana bread out of the four overripe bananas on the counter. (I might not get to this one.)

What did YOU do today?