Greeting the Dawn

At 5:45 this morning, it was still dark out. I finished lacing up my shoes, turned on my iPod, and leashed up Beckett for our morning run.

I used to really enjoy running before work. Mondays, Wednesday, Fridays, Beckett and I would get up and head out for 3-5 miles and be back in time for me to shower, get dressed, and still be only my typical 10 minutes late to work. As long as I could drag myself out of bed, it was a great way to start the day.

But then I broke my finger, tripping in the pre-dawn darkness. And then I got pregnant and wasn't running anymore. And then I had Eleanor and REALLY wasn't running anymore. Or walking the dog, or sleeping regular, or anything else that defines the parameters of a normal, balanced life.

Slowly over the past year, I've been reclaiming some normal activities. Sleep came first, because our wonderful daughter is a great sleeper. Then occasionally walking the dog, working part-time, and even the rare occasion of hanging out with friends or going on a date with Keith. Finally, in the past few weeks, I've been making much more of an effort to run regularly.

To be honest, it hasn't been working that well. My long runs on the weekend get bumped because of going out of town, camping, etc. And it's still hard to fit in the weekday runs, even being home all day on Wednesdays and Fridays. The problem, I've decided this week, is that Eleanor is still too young to really enjoy the running stroller. When she's awake, she wants to be on the move. She doesn't want to be kicked back, taking in the scenery. And I can only take her when she's very awake, otherwise she'll fall asleep for 15 minutes during the run and then refuse to take her nap at home, which should actually be 1-2 hours. Not good.

I decided this last Friday when, for the 3rd time in a row, she got fussy after 20 minutes in the running stroller. The other two times I managed to placate her enough to make it to the end of the run. But trying to sing "Short Skirt / Long Jacket" while powering up a hill is not my idea of a good time. On Friday, I just gave up and headed for home, very frustrated.

So, although I've been avoiding it for some time, I've finally come to the conclusion that, if I want to be certain of my weekday runs, I'll have to do them in the morning before she wakes up. This means getting out of bed by 5:30am. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but now that I've made that decision, I'm really excited about it.

I thought Beckett might be slow to catch on. I figured today I would have to roust his sleepy butt out of bed and shove him out the door, and maybe by Friday he'd be back into the swing of things. But he surprised me by hopping out of bed while I was brushing my teeth, and waiting for me at the back door when I came down the stairs. I think he missed our morning runs even more than I did!

The sky was just starting to lighten at the edges when we walked down the driveway and headed away from the house. I think I may have to steal Keith's headlamp to feel confident I won't have another spectacular wipe-out, as the days are only going to get shorter. But by the time we were home, the sky was light, I was tired but happy, and Beckett was ready for water and food.

I got a quick shower, since Eleanor was already talking to herself by the time I headed upstairs. I threw on some clothes and, for the first time in a long time, was ready to greet Eleanor cheerfully and happy that I already had my run in.

I think this is going to be a good thing. I had forgotten the difficulty of picking up a pile of steaming dog poop in the pre-dawn light. But other than that, I had a great time!

Dog Days of Summer

A few years ago, my family all met up at Findley State Park for a weekend of camping and relaxing.

Little did we know, we just happened to pick the one weekend per year that is the Dog Gone Campout, where everyone brings their furry friends and there's "games, crafts, and demonstrations geared to dogs." It was insanity. So many dogs everyone. And Beckett and his cousins, Scout and Bailey, had to bark at every single one that passed within 25 feet of our campsite.

We did partake in the games, running Beckett and Bailey through an obstacle course and letting them swim after a toy. And it was nice that the campground was filled with other dog-loving campers, so our canine's outbursts were very well tolerated. But even so, if I had to do it all over again, I think I would stay away from the park for that annual event.

Except, we went camping at Findley this past weekend .... and it somehow managed to collide with their Dog Gone Campout weekend AGAIN!! I'm not sure if we've even camped once at Findley since the last doggie extravaganza, and we just happen to pick that same weekend.

Beckett barked and strained so much at his chain that, after one night, he was hoarse. And then it started to rain. My sisters and brother-in-law had already left on Friday night. Keith and I were planning on leaving Saturday anyway, but with the dogs and the weather, my parents decided to join us, too.

We always enjoy sitting around the campfire and catching up, but this was not the most relaxing camping trip of all-time. When we got back home, I drank in the peace and quiet. For a few moments at least, until Beckett ran to the front window and barked at the dog walking on the far sidewalk, across the street.

Happy Birthday, Beckett!

Beckett also enjoyed Eleanor's birthday. We ended up taking all of the presents outside, so everyone could gather loosely around the deck and either watch Eleanor (me and Keith, for the most part) opening her presents, or play. After opening the presents, we brought out the cake and homemade ice cream and Eleanor's high chair and large bib for her first taste of cake.

Keith was getting Eleanor situated in the high chair and I started cutting up pieces of cake, to be served with the ice cream. Keith's cousin started making her way around the deck, taking orders. Plates with cake started lining the bench, patiently awaiting ice cream and distribution to party goers.

And Beckett saw his opportunity. He came up out of nowhere, grabbed an innocent piece of chocolate cake, and gobbled it right down. Before Eleanor or anyone else had even tasted the cake.

He was, as always, unrepentant. I guess I should just be glad that it was only a piece of cake, and he wasn't on top of the table eating the whole entire cake in one go. It's been known to happen!

Such a Poor Child

On the morning of Eleanor's birthday party, there was a lot to be done. Final cleaning, cooking, organizing, etc. So of course, on her big day, I'm just trying to keep her occupied for a few minutes so I can actually get something done.

We were in the kitchen at one point, and I ended up handing her a spoon to keep her occupied. Shortly after that, my in-laws unveiled one of her first presents: They gave her the little rocking chair that they had bought for Keith when he was one-year-old.

We took many pictures of Eleanor sitting in the chair for the first time. And in all of those pictures, she is chewing on that spoon.

My brother-in-law, Jeremy, observed, "You know she's going to look back at these pictures and claim that you never gave her any toys. She had to chew on a spoon!"

So, future Eleanor, please note the sideboard in the picture below, piled high with presents on your 1-year birthday. You also can't see many of the larger presents that are on the floor around the sideboard and in the other room. We, and your family and friends, gave you many presents! If you choose to chew on a spoon instead, that's your choice. But I swear, you do have options.

Happy Birthday, Eleanor!

Even almost 2 weeks later, I'm still a little in shock to realize that I'm the mother of a 1-year-old. A toddler, no longer a baby.

In case you couldn't tell by the lack of posting, the craziness of her birthday weekend wore me out. So many people and activities and presents! But it was a great weekend and a wonderful birthday party.

I tried to get everyone to tell me beforehand what they were getting Eleanor, so I could warn them if there were any duplicates. But, by and large, everyone refused to tell me. I think because, since Eleanor wasn't really that concerned with her birthday festivities this year, it felt like the surprise was more for Keith and me than it was for Eleanor. And no one wants to ruin a surprise!

So I half expected to get the same 5 toys repeatedly, perhaps top recommendations by Parents magazine or all Baby Einsteins because Eleanor is just that smart :) But I was very impressed by the fact that she got a wide variety of toys and clothes. We pulled out a few toys to give her later, when these start to lose their luster. But for now, she loves all of the new toys. From the complicated water table to the rocking horse to the "beach bag" that she piles everything into and carries from room to room, she is enthralled! And it's fun for us to see her interacting with all of these new toys and, ergo, how much she has grown mentally and physically in the past year.

I'm sure this next year will be a lot of fun!

A Year Ago Today ....

.... Nothing happened. It was my due date for Little L, but all was quiet. I remember thinking about how, for 9 months, we'd focused on July 17 like it was a date set in stone. Like we were planning a wedding or some other event that could be, well, predicted. And wondering, if it wasn't the 17th, what date would become the important one to remember for the rest of my days?

I think July 20 is a good day for a birthday. Especially for a girl. Apparently there was some important women's history made on July 20. According to Wikipedia, on that date in 1921, Congresswoman Alice Mary Robertson became the first woman to preside over the US House of Representatives. Five years later, a convention of the Methodist Church voted to allow women to become priests. In 1942 during World War II, the first unit of the Women's Army Corps began training in Des Moines, Iowa. 1960 saw Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) elect Sirimavo Bandaranaike Prime Minister, the world's first elected female head of government. I would also rank it as a banner day for women (and men) that, on July 20, 2005, Canada became the fourth country in the world to legalize same-sex marriage.

And then, at 9:14 am July 20, 2008, Eleanor was born. She joined other notable July 20 births including: Alexander the Great (356BC), Gregor Mendel (1822), Sir Edmund Hillary (1919), Carlos Santana (1947), Stone Gossard (1966), Gisele Bündchen (1980), and Julianne Hough (1988)*.

Sorry, July 17. You had your chance!



*Recent years have been light on scientists and world leaders, and heavy on entertainment and sports. But maybe Eleanor will change that!

You're Not Allowed to Have an Opinion

You know what's been annoying lately? With Eleanor's birthday approaching, acquaintances have started the (wink wink, nudge nudge) "Guess it's time for the next one!"

Our families and close friends can joke about it. Like when my Mom "casually" remarked last week that, when my older sister turned a year old, my Mom was already pregnant with me. But then she did think a moment, and remembered that she was on a two-year maternity leave and she was trying to fit two babies into one maternity leave. I don't have that motivation.

But I've heard it from a few people that I only see once in a great while, with whom I'm not particularly close (none of them know about this blog, for instance), and that's just annoying. Whether my uterus is currently occupied or not is really not any of your business. Nor do you need to know if the occupancy status will be changing any time soon. Why do people think this is an appropriate, casual topic of conversation?

It's said along the lines of "Can you believe the weather?" or "How about that local sports team?" People, please remember that a woman's reproductive organs are NOT good water cooler talk. Just sayin'.

Against All Odds

This past weekend, Keith and I had plans. For the first time since Eleanor was born, we were going out with my parents.

That may not seem strange, but I will admit, we actually used to go out with my parents on a pretty regular basis. We buy tickets together to the Explorer Series at the Museum of Natural History and we all like a bit of Shakespeare or baseball now and again.

Since last July, we have gone out in twos and threes. My Mom and I go to a science lecture while my Dad and Keith stayed home with the baby. Mom watches Eleanor while the rest of us go to a baseball game. But finally, Mom's friend Mary Lou watched Eleanor last Saturday while Keith and I and my parents went to see "As You Like It" put on by the The Ohio Shakespeare Festival at Stan Hywet Hall and Gardens.

I never thought it was going to happen. First, Eleanor came down with a fever on Thursday. Friday was a bad, bad day, full of tears and fitful sleep and not a whole lot of eating or rest for anyone.

And it rained. Did I mention that the performance was supposed to take place outdoors? Thursday and Friday, it poured. By Saturday morning, we figured our big night out was shot.

I was so happy to be wrong! Eleanor woke up Saturday morning feeling much better—her fever was gone and she was still a little cranky, but overall much more like herself. We still had thunderstorms Saturday morning, but they were mostly cleared up by mid-afternoon and we decided to go ahead with our plans.

We went through the KFC drive-thru on the way out to Stan Hywet, and enjoyed a picnic dinner on the grounds before heading over to our seats in the audience. After the weather and Eleanor being sick for the past few days, I was actually convinced that I wouldn't enjoy the show. I thought I would be so busy worrying about all the things I hadn't gotten done over the past few days, and whether Eleanor was really better or not, that I wouldn't be able to relax and enjoy the show.

And again, I was wrong. (It was a very humbling day for me.) Once we got away from the house and were in the idyllic setting of the Stan Hywet grounds (the play was set up near the scene pictured above), I remembered what it was like to go out. We made conversation, enjoyed the weather, and thought about literary themes and actors' performances.

It's good to get out sometimes. Especially when it's against all odds, and you really need a break from reality.

Is It Really That Hard?: Haircuts

Why is it so hard to find a good place for a haircut? I really don't think my standards are so very exacting. I want a decent haircut; that is, one that is a) noticeably shorter than when I arrived, and b) looks better than when I arrived.

I also don't want to pay an exorbitant amount for it. In the Midwest, for a haircut that only takes maybe a half-hour, I would consider a fair price to be around $30-40. Making a dollar per minute sounds pretty good to me.

And yet. We've lived here for 3 years now, and I still am having a hard time finding a place to get my hair cut at a good price. At first I got it cut on the West side, near my parents'. But that was quite a trek, and the person who I liked there moved somewhere else .... so I figured I should find somewhere closer to me.

There's actually 2 salons within walking distance of my house. But both of them charge $50 or more for just the haircut alone, not counting the obligatory 20% tip. I think that's F-ing ridiculous.

But, on the other hand, I also refuse to go to someplace like Best Cuts where I could wait for an hour or more, and I have no idea who is going to be cutting my hair. I've had enough hair traumas in my life that I'm not going to expose myself to that much risk.

Another new hair place opened up a few months ago, and my friend Emily tried it and liked it so I thought I'd go there, too. Until I found out that this brand new place ALSO charges $50 for a haircut. But you just opened!!! That doesn't seem right.

FINALLY, I found a place about 5 minutes away called Fast Eddy's Chop Shop. They had a motorcycle theme, which isn't my favorite but I really didn't care all that much. Lots of chrome and black and orange, with loud music and a very open styling floor. Not a lot of the frills that come with a "salon." They didn't offer me herbal tea or sparkling water when I arrived, and that was fine by me. The stylist cut my hair, did a good job, and all for less than $40. I was sold!

That was back in the winter, and I've been meaning to go back for awhile but hadn't gotten around to it. But with Eleanor's birthday fast approaching and the prospect of many pictures that will be saved for posterity, I figured it was really time.

But I've been trying to call them off and on for a week, and never managed to get through. Finally, today, I get a recording that says they are temporarily closed, sorry for the inconvenience, and I can leave my name and number if I want to be notified of their grand reopening soon.

So I gave up. I called one of the over-priced salons near my house and made an appointment for next Tuesday. I can't fight the system any more! But I'd better have damn good hair in all of Eleanor's birthday photos, and I'll be sure to tell the stylist that when she hands me my steaming mug of chai.

My Toughest Critic

Before Eleanor was born, I was certain that I would make my own baby food. I mean, why not?!? How hard can it be? It would take hardly any time, save us lots of money, and ensure that our precious baby was getting only the purest of ingredients, lovingly crafted into delectable mush.

And then. Eleanor. I tried making baby food a few times. But 1) it took a LOT longer than I was anticipating, and 2) she refused to eat it. Even though she loves baby food in a jar. So it's not saving us much money if I end up throwing all of it out. I don't know; maybe I tried the wrong foods, or the wrong techniques, or something. But she wasn't having it, and I was incredibly frustrated, so I gave up.

Then we tried to make the switch to real food. Which she also doesn't really like. The girl likes her food slimey and out of a jar, or in the shape of a fish, and it's been a hard trait to combat. But we keep trying. We've cooked sweet potatoes, peas, carrots, plain pasta. I've given her raw strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe, watermelon, and more. She's tried orange juice, cheddar cheese, swiss cheese, and cottage cheese. Every day, for every meal, I give her little bits of finger food that, 90% of the time, doesn't ever get eaten. Most of it goes in the mouth, but it all comes right back out again. We were shocked this weekend when she seemed to be eating ham. Ham! And the next day, when we offered it again, it was summarily rejected.

So. The point I'm getting at here, is that I was amazed to serve her the same meal that we ate tonight: whole wheat spaghetti with veggie pasta sauce. And she loved it!! She couldn't get enough. I don't know if it's because she was eating the same thing as us, or the taste, or whatever. But it was the first time I've actually cooked something for her and had such a positive reaction. I felt on top of the world.

I don't know how I'm going to feel tomorrow, however, when I try to feed it to her again, and it ends up on the floor, getting hoovered up by the dog. Can this be the start of a streak, where she actually eats real food? Or am I just getting my hopes up for nothing?

At least if she rejects her birthday cake, I'll know that it means something is wrong with her taste buds, and it's not my cooking.

Using a Time-Turner?

Yesterday, I managed to sleep in AND get an early morning run. How is that possible?

It's all in your perception, my friend. The key is that my definition of "sleeping in" has changed significantly over the past year. Nowadays, I consider sleeping in to be anything past when Eleanor wakes up. So if Eleanor starts chattering away at 6am, but Keith gets up with her so I can sleep until 6:3o ... that counts as sleeping in! Because I know that I got bonus sleep.

On Sunday, Eleanor did indeed wake up at 6 o'clock, happy and alert. Happy is always good, but 6 o'clock was EARLY. Especially since she didn't go to be until after 9 o'clock the night before—when her normal bedtime is 8pm. I felt bad for Keith, but reveled in the feeling of snuggling back under the covers. Every once in a while, the sound of Eleanor's laughter or Keith's talking filtered back up, past the covers, into my dreams. But I knew she was happy and being taken good care of, so I went right back to sleep.

I was planning on sleeping in until 7 ... I rolled over and looked at the clock at 7:12. I told myself I should really get up .... but then Gomez came and laid on me. So I didn't actually get up until 7:30.

So that is how I "slept in" until 7:30. It felt restful and decadent. And then I got dressed and was out the door around 8 o'clock for 5-mile run with Beckett. I love running in the morning, and I so rarely get to do it anymore. Being out before everyone is up, the cool weather, the morning sunshine, knowing that your run is under your belt and you can face the rest of the day with a good conscience.

99.9% of the time, I complain about how being a mother means I have no time to myself. But this is one way that having Eleanor around makes it seem like I have more time. Or I guess it just means that I value my time much more highly. I love that getting out of bed before 8 o'clock can seem like a treat, but I still have the rest of the day, stretching ahead of me.

Intermittently Annoying

There's been a ridiculous amount of rain here over the past week. So I've been reminded on many car trips that our 2003 Toyota Matrix only has one intermittent wiper setting.

What's the deal with that?!? Keith's first car was a 97 Chevy Cavalier and mine was a 2000 Chrysler Neon. Both of these cars were compact cars, bought second-hand, because we could barely afford any car loan at all. I needed my dad to co-sign so that I could even get the loan, since all I had was student debt and a few months of full-time work under my belt.

My point being: both of these cars had several intermittent wiper settings. So whether the clouds are just spittin', or the skies have opened up, you could get just the right amount of wiper action. I thought, with buying a foreign crossover car, we were moving up a step on the car-buying rung. But instead, only ONE intermittent wiper setting?!? Really?!? I will keep this in mind for next time, Toyota!

This Blog Is the Man

There were lots of comments, electronically and otherwise, on the last post about keeping track of diet and fitness. I would love to offer this blog as a place for my friends and readers to let me / the world know how their efforts at healthy living are going.

I know that a certain person is training for her first full marathon, another particular husband is shooting for a new 5k PR, and some of us are trying to lose baby weight, or maintain that weight loss.

Although this isn't specifically a fitness blog (you should head over to FitGeGe for that), I'm always looking for motivation, encouragement, and tips. So, if anyone is interested, I would be happy to commit to posting on a somewhat regular basis (every two weeks or so?) about my progress or lack thereof on my weight loss and fitness goals. And hearing from everyone in the comments about how things are going for you ... or have the occasional guest post from someone who has a product they'd like to talk about or a technique that works for them.

Let me know what you think!

You Are The Man

Keith has had the Nike Plus for a few years now. His enthusiasm goes in waves; sometimes he uses it religiously, and other times (probably when he's not training as hard) he can take it or leave it. When he does use it, he really enjoys uploading his runs and tracking the stats about how far he ran in each month, when he ran fastest and slowest during each month, etc.

Knowing of his interaction with the Nike Plus, an article on Wired caught my eye the other week, titled "The Nike Experiment: How the Shoe Giant Unleashed the Power of Personal Metrics." The article discusses how seeing and analyzing the workout data motivates people to keep going. In particular, I found the reference to the Hawthorne Effect, where workers performed better just because they knew they were being watched, fascinating.

I would say that this blog is a form of the Hawthorne Effect. I put it out there to the world when I have running or weight loss goals, or all of my various New Year's resolutions. And whether anyone happens to read the post or not, I think I'm being watched, so it gives me motivation to keep to my goals.

I don't think I want to get a Nike Plus; I already have the desire to run. Maybe I need to get something that counts calories as I consume them, and then tweets them out to the universe. Or have surveillance cameras installed in the kitchen. Just the thought makes me shudder!

She's a Neat Freak

Apparently, Eleanor has decided that my housekeeping isn't quite up-to-snuff. It's bad enough that Gomez usually appears from nowhere when I'm cleaning to watch. I feel as if she's been treated like royalty in all of her cat lives, perhaps starting as an Egyptian priestess's beloved companion. She doesn't understand what I'm doing when I get out a mop and a broom. She's never actually seen such a thing before‐these types of activities were always done quietly by domestics, when Her Highness was cat napping in the sunshine in another wing of the manor. So she watches me, fascinated, when I get down on my hands and knees to sweep up furry tumbleweeds or scrub spilled baby food off the floor.

Like I said, it's enough to have Gomez for an audience. But NOW I have Eleanor showing me how things are done! I got out the Swiffer the other day, and she decided to take matters into her own chubby little baby hands, and show me how to really get to the stuff in the corners. Obviously, she only worked for as long as it took me to get the hang of things, and then she was off to try and eat Beckett's dog food before Keith or I noticed. She has more important things to do than clean.

If Beckett starts giving me cleaning tips, I'll really have to worry!

Not Secret Shopper

I haven't done a very good job of buying presents for Keith's birthday this year. As usual, I found and purchased 90% of his gifts online. I did actually buy one at a store, when I was out and about a few weeks ago, and I was very proud of myself.

I was at Costco and saw the new David Sedaris book out in paperback, and grabbed it for Keith. I was proud of myself for getting something he'd like, but wouldn't be expecting. When I got home, I set about unpacking the groceries. I put the book on the stairs to take up and hide away the next time I ran up. Fast forward a few hours, to when Keith gets home from work and heads upstairs to get changed. I'm in the kitchen (again? still?) and he calls out, "Where'd you get the new David Sedaris book?" I swear under my breath.

I didn't really buy any more presents until the end of last week. When I suddenly realized that I didn't have a whole lot of time left. One of the items I was most excited about was a Cafe Press custom t-shirt with a phrase on it that wouldn't make a whole lot of sense to anyone other than me and Keith, but it's not worth going into here. So ANYWAY, I was happy I'd thought about it, and even more excited when it arrived on Monday. Plus, I also got a package from my friend Jen, who lives in Michigan, and just happened to come across a brand new toddler's Cincinnati Bengals snowsuit at a garage sale, and sent it to us for Keith's enjoyment.

By this point, I was getting the sense that many of my online purchases wouldn't be arriving in time for his actual birthday. So I thought Jen's gift was serendipitous; I could wrap it up and put it with Keith's other presents but write "To Eleanor, on Keith's birthday" on the outside. After he opened it, I was obviously going to admit it didn't really come from me, and show him Jen's note. BUT it would be another package on the table. And it would be a package that he didn't know about, as opposed to the book.

But then, Eleanor refused to take her afternoon nap, and I decided we'd go for a run. We were supposed to be back before Keith got home from work, so I wasn't even thinking about the open packages on the living room coffee table. But by the time I got Eleanor changed and fed and ready to go .... you see what's coming. We returned home to Keith's car in the garage and the presents viewed.

So yesterday was his birthday. His iPod headphones with microphone had arrived AND I had actually managed to remember to hide them before he got home. A miracle! So he had three presents to open: the book he already knew about, the t-shirt he'd already seen, and the headphones. (Since he'd already seen the snowsuit for Eleanor, I didn't think there was much point in making him unwrap it.) None of the rest of his presents have arrived yet.

Of course, my theory about this is always that it makes your birthday/Christmas last longer, as long as you keep getting presents! So I'm really doing him a favor. Except, if his birthday lasts for a week, does that mean he's finally older than me? Or does it just mean that I'm old enough to be forgetful.

I would rather blame it on the baby, and never getting more than halfway through a thought before I have to run off and stop Eleanor from pulling the cat's tail, knocking over a glass of water, etc. But surely it will be easier when she's almost 2, right? We'll pretend they're the Terrific Twos!

Happy Birthday, Keith!

Congrats! Now you're old, and you can stop teasing me about being so old. Like you've been doing since I turned 31 at the beginning of April. Now you're right there with me!

Last night, for reasons unbeknownst to me, Keith was trying to figure out what we did on his birthday 2 years ago. He checked our Google Calendar, which had on it that the Black Keys had been playing at the Agora. Now, we did go to a Black Keys concert at the Agora once, with my sister Amy. (Remember those people who were making out next to you? Good times!) But we also have a bad habit of intending to go to concerts, putting them on the calendar, and not quite making it. Especially if the concert is on a weeknight. So did we actually go to this concert or not?

Then Keith came and checked the blog, but I hadn't written about his birthday celebrations. I think I wrote about going out to dinner and the driving range over the weekend, but not what we did on his actual birthdate.

Next I suggested he try looking at our budgeting spreadsheet. If we actually had a charge for tickets in June 2007, then we must have gone to the concert. But he looked at the old spreadsheet ... and it starts from July 2007. So we're still not exactly sure what we did on June 25, 2007. Is it really that important? No. But it is interesting to think of all the different ways we store information about our personal lives. Creepy and interesting.

So Keith, on your exact birthdate today ... we're not doing a whole lot. You're at work and I'm trying to get some cleaning and grocery shopping done. Tonight we're going to watch the Reds game and eat three-ways. But tomorrow you took off work, so we are going to the zoo with Eleanor. And, if it's as hot as it is today, immediately hopping into the baby pool when we get back.

Happy birthday, old man!

Conflicting Emotions

Here I sit at 7 o'clock am. The house is quiet; Keith just left for work, and Beckett is sleeping on the couch next to me. (He has such a tough, exhausting life, he needs to sleep until noon on some days.)

It feels like the calm before the storm. Every morning, I am so conflicted. Every morning, that is, when I manage to get out of bed and sneak down the hall to the bathroom and then into the kitchen without waking up Eleanor. So about 30% of the time.

I can't wait to see her. Every night, after she's been in bed for an hour or so, I look at Keith and sigh and say, "I miss that girl." So in the morning, I can't wait to see her smiling face as she eagerly raises her arms to be lifted out of the crib and start another exciting day. We go to the window in her room and look outside to see what kind of day it is so far, and she waves to the tree and the house across the street and any passing cars, and announces her presence to the world.

Just thinking about it now makes me smile. BUT, I also have been sitting here, quietly working on my to-do list for today. And it's long. So if she just keeps sleeping for a bit longer, maybe I could knock one or two of the small items off the list before 8 am. And wouldn't that feel great?

So I sit. Both anticipating and dreading that first squawk that lets me know quiet time is over. No more planning, or doing. Eleanor's day has started! And mine is on hold until naptime.

Like Crack for Babies

At 11 months, Eleanor is still not a great eater of solid foods. She has expanded her repetoire a bit, though. From nothing .... to crackers. One morning she still wouldn't eat any solid foods, and that afternoon she was chowing away on Graduates puffs like a champ. I thought it was a good sign ... we'd be onto "real food" in no time!

But apparently there's a texture issue. Some things are okay. She enjoys bananas in a jar AND as finger food. But real peas? sweet potatoes? chicken? They do NOT make the cut.

She does like crackers, though. And bread. Our little carb addict! I gave her goldfish crackers once, to see if she would like them. And now she wants them all the time. If I bring out the box, she starts bouncing up and down in her high chair.

With all of the foods that she's rejected, I am shocked at how eagerly she accepted the goldfish. It was an instantaneous love. When a small tupperware of goldfish crackers are proffered to her while at the store or in a restaurant, she shoves her hand in and leaves it there ... I think she's trying to get as many fish to adhere to her sticky baby fingers as possible. Last night she ate goldfish with her left hand, while still tightly clasping a dozen or so mangled fish in her right fist. Presumably to eat later.

So we're walking a fine line. Do we try to force her to try new things? Or do I just let her eat goldfish at every opportunity? Is this something she grows out of? Advice from experienced parents would be much appreciated!

Why Running Vs. Other Cardio?

A friend from high school recently asked me via email why I run vs. other types of cardio workouts. Neither Ellen nor I were "runners" in high school, we were active but didn't run for the sake of running. But in our adult lives, we've both taken up the sport; she's a more recent convert than me, and is still wondering whether it's all worth it.

I think she was asking from the perspective of actual physiological benefits. Unfortunately, I don't have much information on that front. But it did get me started thinking about why I, personally, choose to run.

One big factor is the ease. You lace up a pair of shoes, walk out the door, and go. And actually, being able to walk out the door and have nice running routes right there was a factor when we were looking at houses and neighborhoods.

Another factor is the versatility. Running is as hard or as easy as you make it .... okay, it's never really easier. But you can choose to walk if you're having a rough day, or you can pick up the pace and add in some hills if you have energy to burn.

I also appreciate that it gives me time away from everything else. If I were to do a workout video in the basement, I would still hear the phone ring or the baby crying. I just want to go.

And finally, I like that it is a sport that lends itself to goals. Big ones (like a half-marathon) and small ones (make it to the next light post without walking). I am constantly setting running goals. Sometimes I make them, sometimes not. But either way I know that running will always be challenging for me. I will always feel better after having gone for a run, whether it was a good run or not. And, after many years of not accepting it, I'm proud to call myself a "runner."

It's So CSI

Keith and I watched CSI pretty regularly for quite a few years. We haven't been watching much since Grissom left; I don't know if that's why we stopped watching, or if it just coincided with the fact that we have a lot less free time these days.

Either way, I enjoyed the show as a work of fiction. I never really thought any of their science wizardry could be applied in real life, though. The way they manipulated photographs or pulled specific sounds from a recording and identified the year, make, and model of a car from that sound ... I figured the idea of CSI was valid, but a lot of the "investigative techniques" they used on the show were just hocus pocus.

But then. Last weekend, we went camping with Eleanor for the second time. The first time was okay, but the weather was rather uncooperative and put a damper on activities, figuratively and literally. But this past time, it was gorgeous! Eleanor did wonderful—even better than the first time. She loved exploring, slept great at night .... just did fantastic. On Saturday, Keith and I walked her over to the small playground near the campsite, with just a few slides and swings. Eleanor LOVED the slide. She also loved seeing the other children and picking up pine cones.

Keith took many pictures of her, including the close-up of her face that is above. When we were looking at the pictures on the computer, however, we realized that you could see something reflected in her eyes. Keith zoomed in ... and wow! It's freaky, totally CSI. You can see Keith, wearing a red shirt, crouching down with the camera. There's grass and blue sky and clouds, all reflected in her eye.












Maybe there's more to this CSI hocus pocus than I ever believed!

My Little Irish Dancer

We like to refer to Eleanor's Johnny Jump Up as her "Johnny Dance Up."
1) We don't really care that it's gender-specific, and don't think it will warp Eleanor's mind to have a Johnny instead of a Jenny.
2) She doesn't really jump. She doesn't use both her legs together, but rather flails them both about separately, and spins herself in circles.

After much observation, I think she actually does this on purpose, because she enjoys it more than simply bouncing up and down. Pair it with her favorite Cake song, and she's a dancing machine!

Shout Out to Keith "Speed Demon" Lubbers

I just wanted to give Keith a quick shout-out for his fantastic 5k finish last weekend. After finishing his second marathon in the beginning of May (that's a post-marathon picture, not from the 5k, lest anyone give me a hard time for the Flying Pig medal on display), his goal for the summer was to focus on speedwork and achieve a sub-20 minute 5k for the first time since high school.

He entered last Sunday's race just to get an idea of where he was at in his training, and how far he had to go to achieve his goal .... and he attained it! He finished in 19:57 and placed 3rd. Not 3rd in his age group, but 3rd OVERALL.

I think that's pretty freakin' impressive! Congratulations, Keith!


*I'm sure he'll insist that I mention the fact that the race was mostly downhill, but I think
that's a minor footnote. A slightly downhill course is not going to take that much time off. I have no doubt his excellent time was due 99.9% to his hard work and speedy legs.

A Wrench in the Plans

I sprained my ankle last Friday. So easy to do, kind of like breaking my finger. I've never been a very graceful person, and not being able to pay attention to where I'm walking only exacerbates this tendency to fall over.

This time, I took Beckett and Eleanor for a walk around the block during the afternoon. I had Eleanor strapped in the Baby Bjorn on my chest, limiting my visibility. The leash was in my left hand, and I was looking at Beckett on my left. My right foot stepped into a depression, and down I went.

Since I've been wearing an aircast all week, I've heard lots of others' stories about sprained ankles. Walking down a step, stepping out of a shoe .... it's a miracle it doesn't happen more often. Our ankles are very vulnerable, it seems!

As I twisted my ankle, I feel forward onto my left knee and hands. Eleanor fell forward in the Bjorn and started screaming; I had a heart-stopping moment of panic that her head actually smacked the sidewalk. Fortunately, she was just scared by the feeling of falling, and was unhurt.

I picked myself up and hobbled over to a few steps near the sidewalk to assess the damage. Beckett may drive me crazy in a LOT of ways, but sometimes he reminds me how he's a good dog at heart. This time, he wandered around after I dropped the leash, but stuck close by and came when I called him back over.

What was the luckiest break for all of us is that an amazingly good Samaritan saw me fall and came over from the other side of the street to make sure I was okay. She was a junior in high school and I couldn't believe how kind and helpful and compassionate she was. I was certainly not that mature in high school, I'm sure. She took Beckett and waited while I checked myself out for the extent of the damage. When I decided the ankle wasn't going to fall off if I walked the quarter-mile back home, she kept Beckett and walked him home for me, so I could concentrate just on staying upright. If it wasn't for her, I don't know how I would have made it home. You never want to be in the position where you need to lean on a stranger, but it was a wonderful feeling to know that people like her are still around .... and living close by!

I waited until Saturday morning to go to the Urgentcare, vainly hoping that it would feel all better in the morning. Of course it didn't, so Keith and Eleanor took me to the hospital because I wasn't sure if I could drive myself.

This was just another reminder that everything is different once you're a parent. On the way to the appointment, my biggest concern was that I hoped I didn't need crutches. How in the world would I manage that AND carry around Eleanor? Or get there just in the nick of time when she was about to fall/eat the dog's bone/etc.?

I laughed to myself when the doctor told me it was just a mild sprain, and I should rest and elevate the ankle for a few days and stay off it as much as I could. In my world, that means laying on the couch and icing it at 9 o'clock at night, after Eleanor is in bed. Or maybe one other time during the day, if I'm lucky.

Even with my lack of care, the ankle seems to be healing nicely. The swelling has gone down significantly and I have a lot more movement and very little pain. I'm supposed to wear the aircast continuously until tomorrow, and then I can start taking it off for short amounts of time and see how it feels.

My biggest concern going forward is that, although ankles heal, being a klutz is a permanent condition. Does this mean that I should never walk with the dog and Eleanor together again? Can I not be trusted to stay on my feet, despite distractions? If I can't do 3 things at once, then I'll never get anything done. I was so looking forward to getting out and walking more once the weather turned nice. It would be a shame if Beckett and Eleanor have to take their walks without me.

The Family That (Watches Other People) Plays Together

My cousins from Poughkeepsie NY were in town most of last week for the Indians/Yankees series.
Thursday night we had over my cousins, parents, sisters/brother-in-law, aunt, and uncle for dinner and to watch the Cavs game.

It was nice to spend time with my cousins, since we don't get to see them very often. I have plenty of memories of vacations and trips to visit them when we were younger, but I can probably count on 3 fingers the number of times I've seen them as adults. As I said to Keith, it was kind of a relief to realize that I actually like them and think that they are great guys! I didn't really know what to expect, since the last time we spent any extended amount of time together, Madonna was on her Blonde Ambition tour.

Family, especially extended family, is such a funny thing. How you can know so much about each other, but so little. Even after seeing my cousins several days in a row, I can't tell you what hobbies they have or books they are reading, or what their plans are for the next 5 years. But I can say that they are kind, thoughtful people with an outstanding sense of humor (I did uses that singularly, because the two of them share the exact same type of humor). Good family to have around.

A Day at the Zoo

Last Wednesday, Eleanor and I had a lovely day at the zoo with Grandma Karen.

This is the third time Eleanor has been to the zoo, and she still doesn't have much interest in the animals yet. This time, I spent much of our excursion pointing out all the milestones for the 5k fiasco, which I'm sure was terribly fascinating for Karen. She did nod politely and "ooh" and "aah" appropriately, which I thought was nice of her.

We also went in the primate house for the first time. Eleanor enjoyed it thoroughly for a couple reasons:

1. She could walk anywhere and everywhere,
2. So many other children around!

Eleanor lurked in wait near entertaining monkeys or giant apes, until other toddlers innocently came up to the glass to watch them. She then pounced, grasping my finger and lurching her way, excited, panting, over to the other child. She grinned and screeched and wanted to hold hands and interact with them. At one point, I even thought she was going to go home with a little girl's mother—she walked up to the girl and then grabbed the mother's shirt and started cooing at her. I felt like I had been replaced! But of course, she's not fully mobile yet, so I just snatched her back and distracted her by pointing out a baby across the room.

I'm so glad that we have the zoo passes and can go back all throughout the year. The first few times, she was enthralled with the shrubbery immediately in view from the stroller. This time, she branched out to walking around the inside exhibits and making friends with other children. Maybe by December, she'll start to notice the animals!

Gomez in Concert

I was so wrong. Last Tuesday, I was incredibly nervous about being up all night, going out to dinner and the concert and living it up. In our new lives as parents, getting to watch a movie together and going to bed by 11 o'clock is pretty exciting. Could I possibly be up to hanging out with the younger, hipper fans at the concert?

First, we weren't out all night. We were still in bed by midnight. I don't know why I was imagining rolling into bed around 2am. Maybe from too many concerts out of town? Anyway, I was totally wrong about that.

Secondly, of COURSE I can handle staying up a little late. I'm a new parent!!! Sleep deprivation is my middle name! Maybe in my previous, well-rested life, a mid-week concert would have thrown me for a loop. But now? It's just another night! And it was a fun night of dining out and enjoying a concert. As opposed to being woken up from a sound sleep by an unhappy baby in the wee hours of the morning. New parents are the perfect concert-goers .... as long as we can find a babysitter, that is.

Finally, I was also wrong about the crowd. For awhile there, I felt like we were the youngest people in the audience, instead of the oldest. I asked myself if none of the "kids" were allowed out on a weeknight .... and then I remembered that people 10 years younger than me are of legal drinking age and perfectly capable of making their own decisions about when and where to go. Ouch. It ended up being quite a mix of ages, and we were pretty much in the middle.

So in general, I highly recommend getting a night out on the town every once in a while for new parents. You don't miss out on any more sleep than you would otherwise .... and it's nice to remind yourself that you do have interests other than the tiny tyrant!

In particular, this time we had a nice evening. We really liked the atmosphere of Saigon restaurant, but I wasn't that enthralled with my entree. I had ordered the Saigon Vermicelli, with shrimp and pork and loads of other vegetables. There were only 2 pieces of shrimp, and the pork was really fatty; more like bacon than the pork loin that I was expecting. It was filling, though. I ate until I was stuffed, and it still looked like I barely made a dent.

Keith timed it perfectly; we finished our meals maybe 15 minutes or so after the opening act started. So we paid and walked 2 minutes down the road to the House of Blues. I wasn't that impressed with the opening act, Steel Train (and their website navigation is stupid, too). The music was fine, but the lead singer was a complete spaz. I thought the audience was listening pretty politely, for a band that most people probably hadn't heard of. But he kept trying wayyy too hard to get everyone "involved" in the music with clapping, cheering, etc. And then he complained when we didn't scream our way through all of their songs. Annoying. Maybe buy the CD, but don't make a special trip to see them in concert.

With a baby, I found that I also appreciate the time between acts more. Usually, I'm terribly impatient for the headliner to come out. It always seems to take an inordinately long amount of time to change over the stage to the other bands' equipment, etc. This time, however, I just thought about how, if I were at home, I would be getting Eleanor to sleep, doing laundry, picking up around the house ..... so I enjoyed the freedom of having nothing to do but wait. I people-watched and relaxed.

Until about 9 o'clock, and then I was ready for Gomez. Too bad they didn't start their set until closer to 9:30. But we were still walking out the doors by 11, so it was pretty short. Overall, my impression was that it was a Tuesday night concert. I enjoyed the music, but there wasn't a lot of energy.

It wasn't very crowded, so we were in the second row on Ian's side of the stage (rhythm guitarist and one of the 3 lead vocalists) and I could move around without a problem. That part was nice. But when I looked around at the crowd, it seemed like not a lot of people knew the words to the songs. People were enjoying the music, Gomez was enjoying playing .... but it was all very laid back.

Maybe it also has something to do with the fact that this is the 4th or 5th time we've seen them in concert, so it wasn't quite as much of an event for us, but I remember their first concert being so high-energy and intense with lots of jam sessions in the middle of songs. It had felt so much more like the band was feeding on a connection with the audience. This time, it was like we (audience and band) were friends meeting for lunch and getting caught up on the latest gossip, instead of being involved in a torrid affair, trying to suck the marrow out of every moment together.

It was a solid performance, and I enjoyed it, as always. I wish it had been longer, and they had played more of their older songs. But now that they have so many CDs out, I'm not sure I'll ever be satisfied with the setlist at a live performance—I'm sure there will always be another song or two that I really wanted to hear.

I am already looking forward to their next concert, whenever that may be. At least I know not to be so hung-up on it being a wild and crazy late night out, and just anticipate the freedom to relax and enjoy the music.

The Best Laid Plans

Last week, about this time, I was very happy with my blogging of late. After a dismal January-March, when many may have wondered if my keyboard had imploded, I gave up trying to compose, revise, polish the Best Blog Entries Ever and went back to just blogging, dammit. Lo and behold, my post count went back up! At that point, I decided that my goal for 2009 was to average 10 posts/month, or 120 in total.

And this time last week, I was almost caught up! All I needed to do was post an entry every weekday last week, and I would be right on track .... ah well. Maybe by the end of June, then.

Last week was manic. I don't really know how it happened. First, the Gomez concert Tuesday night. Wednesday, Eleanor and I had a lovely day at the zoo with Grandma Karen, and then Eleanor went to bed late that night and Keith, Karen and I hung out for a bit. My cousins from Poughkeepsie NY were in town most of last week for the Indians/Yankees series, and Thursday night we had over my cousins, parents, sisters/brother-in-law, aunt and uncle for dinner and to watch the Cavs game. At least they won that one!

Friday afternoon I twisted my ankle. Saturday morning was spent at Urgentcare, where they said it was a sprain and sent me on my way with an aircast. Saturday afternoon was at my parents' cook-out, and Saturday evening Keith and I went with my cousins to the baseball game. Sunday morning Keith ran a fantastic 5k race, and we spent the rest of the afternoon recuperating from our crazy week. So, more on most of these events later (the interesting ones, anyway.) Fingers crossed this week is a bit more manageable!

I'm Getting Too Old for This

So our big night out is only a few hours away. My mother-in-law has arrived and is already having quality time with Eleanor. Keith and I are going to a Vietnamese Restaurant downtown that we've never been to before. And then it's off to the House of Blues!

At this moment, I think I am equal parts excited and nervous. I'm just getting too old for this! In 2006, I complained about being too old for 2 concerts in 2 days in 2 cities ... but that was a few years and one child ago! Now I think I will be just as worn out by dinner and one concert, local.

But anyway, enough complaining about having a social life. I will stop by the drugstore and buy my earplugs before the concert, as I have been doing for a few years now. But, on the other hand, I will also be out at a concert in the middle of the week and loving every minute of it once I'm there, I'm sure. Last time we saw them at the HOB, we were front and center. Since it's a random weeknight concert, and I've never heard of the opening band (Steel train?), maybe we will get lucky again.

So I am getting more excited than nervous about the concert. But even so, don't expect a blog post first thing tomorrow morning! Because I can guarantee that won't be happening. Unless I stayed up the whole night because I'm just that young and exciting?!?

The Sad End to a 3-Day Weekend

I hate Sunday evenings, when a long week of work and tasks stretches before me. You would think that it would be better after a long weekend, when we've had all of Monday to play and procrastinate. But why does it seem worse?

We had a great weekend. It was a good mix of work and play. We got some work done in the garden, I finally cleaned out the study and filed our 4-month backlog of bills etc., and I even have 5 draft pages of a new short story that I'm working on. On the fun side, we also went to the Farmer's Market at Shaker Square with Stephen and Emily on Saturday, hiking on Sunday, and had Stacey and Kevin and their dog Guiness over for a cook-out this afternoon.

It was a fabulous three-day weekend. Eleanor had such a good time, she finished her final bottle tonight in short order and passed out immediately after—no reading or singing or rocking required. But will it be enough to get me through the next few days of drudgery at the office and slaving away over the stove and washer at home?

Except ... I just remembered ... the Gomez concert is tomorrow night! My mother-in-law is coming up tomorrow afternoon to watch Eleanor so we can go out to dinner and party late, pretending like we won't still have to get up at 6 o'clock on Wednesday morning like responsible parents and adults. And then Karen, Eleanor, and I will hopefully go to the zoo on Wednesday, possibly meeting up with my sister Erin and son Gavin there .... the fun continues!

Sweet, Sweet Sleep

Last night, for the first time since last Fall, we slept with our windows open in the bedroom. And it was heaven.

Even though it has been more than warm enough to warrant open windows before, it was an impossibility because our window contractor had not yet put in the screens.

A week or so ago, I had written a very long-winded and accusatory blog rant about how the contractor was completely out-of-line and unresponsive, that we'd hired him in July 2008 and the job still wasn't finished .... I named names and got into many of the sordid details of our dealings with the company.

But that was then, and this is now, and we have our screens. It's true, it did get to the point where we actually filed in Small Claims Court to get from him the money we would need to hire someone else to do the job, because we didn't ever think it was going to get done.

But it is done. And strangely enough, he acted just as friendly today as he did at the beginning. At least, that's what my husband told me; when everything went sour and I left him 50 voicemails in February that he never answered or acknowledged in any way, Keith agreed that, IF the contractor ever came back out to the house again, I wouldn't have to see him.

So this morning, I packed up myself and Eleanor and we vacated the premises for the day while Keith worked from home and awaited the contractor's arrival.

Overall, I felt like the whole experience with this contractor was a terrible one. We could never get a hold of him, when they did deign to show up, the skeleton crew came late and left early. Nothing got done anywhere close to on-time.

And yet ... the windows are great quality. We've had many, many compliments (from friends AND from other contractors) on how well they're made. The price was very fair, and he stuck to it even when installation proved more difficult than expected. And the company owner was always very friendly; holding the baby, patiently letting Beckett in and out 50 times a day while they were here, even chasing down Gomez when she escaped ..... he always joked about stealing Beckett away with him. And today, when they were finally FINALLY done with everything, one more time he asked Beckett if he wanted to go for a ride with him and go live in the country.

I just don't get it. Does he think that this is a normal way to operate? Is this standard procedure for him, to just forget about clients for months and then get around to finishing up the final details? And then he expects them to not be frustrated or angry that they've been anxiously awaiting this completion of work on their HOME for ages? Does he think it should all just be water under the bridge, and we are going to call him again the next time we need new windows? (And we will, because we could only afford to do half the house at one time. I shudder at the thought!)

For so long, I have been feeling so angry and abused. But now I'm just so very glad it's all over. I don't want to ever hire anyone else to do ANYTHING at our house. And I want to enjoy sleeping with the windows open all summer long.

If Working Outdoors

.... I must make a mental note to remember that I'm rather fair-skinned. After a mere half-hour in the sun at lunch during our department retreat yesterday, my arms and chest were red as a lobster. You'd think I would know better by now ....

I should never set foot outside without being slathered in sunblock!

Change of Scenery

I want to work outside. For work today, our whole department went for an all-day retreat/planning session at the university-owned farm, less than a 20-minute drive from my house.

Even driving out to the farm, I felt myself decompressing as the landscape became more green and pastoral. Instead of tensing up, heading into a stressful day of work, I felt my shoulders relaxing as I enjoyed the view and lack of traffic.

Parking at the farm and walking to the building, I listened to birds singing and wind blowing in the trees.I squinted against bright sunshine to watch squirrels and chipmunks running through the gardens. I smelled clean, fresh air. I felt the wind in my hair and grass and gravel under my feet. It was amazing.

All day long, I kept thinking: What would it be like to work out here all the time? Or at least, all of the part-time that I'm currently working. There's a cross-country path through the fields and the woods, and a shower in the bathroom. I could go for a run at lunch. While working, I could take my computer or notepad out and sit in the grass for a change of pace. When I needed a break, I could take a brisk walk and try to identify a few different birds by sight or sound.

I need to think about this some more. I'm tired of being stressed out at work all the time. I barely leave my desk and the tiny office lit by soul-sucking fluorescent lights. I have a tiny window that is more like one of those arrow slits in castles, just wide enough to stick out a bow and shoot. If I want to get outside right now, there's a picnic table on the concrete by the loading dock. It overlooks a busy street that is full of noise and traffic.

Work is such a tricky thing. The work itself is only one small part of it. The people you work with and the atmosphere is so important, too. I like my job, and I like the people, but ... wow. I would really like to see a bit more nature throughout the day.

Best Little Camper

It rained. And it was ridiculously cold. But other than the weather, camping was great!

Eleanor was a fabulous little camper. When we first arrived at the site and got out of the car, I don't think she stopped "talking" to herself for the first 10 minutes, at least. She kept squawking and squeaking as she held onto my fingers and toddled up and down the driveway. By the end of the weekend, I think she'd gone up and down the drive at least 50 times. Sometimes with me or Keith, or often with my parents. It's a good thing she had various escorts, because one person would not have been up to that much toddling over the same 20 feet over and over again.

My Mom helpfully told me to forget any idea of a schedule, so we didn't even try to put Eleanor down for her normal bedtime, 8 o'clock, when it was still fully light outside. We just took turns holding her and eating our hot dogs and brats as we sat around the campfire. Finally, she fell asleep in my arms and I laid her down on the sleeping bags in the tent.

Going to bed late, however, did not necessarily translate into sleeping late. The next morning, she still woke up early (maybe about 6ish? I'm not good at telling time from the angle of the sun's rays). Her eyes flew open and she sat up, taking in her surroundings. You could just see her thinking, "Where am I and what is going on?!?" But she soon saw that her father and I, plus the dog, were all there with her, so she decided to go with the flow and started exploring the tent.

Saturday, she wore the camping outfit from Grandma and Grandpa Lubbers. It's an adorable little pink cargo pants and a cream-colored onesie that has a raccoon on the front and says "Little Explorer." It was very appropriate for Eleanor! She was into everything, and loving every minute of it.

Of course, once the weather turned cold on Saturday evening, she stayed bundled up, but the rest of us were freezing. Instead of hanging out around the fire for long, we called it an early night because our toes may have been toasty warm, but anything not directly experiencing the heat of the flames was frostbitten.

There was actually a frost warning out for Sunday morning, and it was really, really cold. We were fine during the night with the family bundled up in the sleeping bags, but it was really hard to get out of bed in the morning and put on cold clothes. We hurriedly ate, threw everything into the cars, and said our good-byes. I couldn't wait to get home and warm up. Also, I had been missing all the usual comforts. A bathroom that wasn't a short walk away .... a faucet with hot water for washing baby bottles, and with cold water to easily refill Beckett's water dish. And, of course, our bed.

I breathed a sigh of relief once we were in the car, warmed by the morning sunshine, and on our way. We weren't even out of the park, however, when the feelings of relief were tinged with sadness. Eleanor's first camping trip was over! I felt a little guilty for wishing the end of it away .... but did I mention the cold? And the rain?

So I was sad that the experience was over, but at least it was a good one and we are all looking forward to our next camping trip with her. I just hope the weather cooperates next time! And that she might consider napping once or twice throughout the weekend. I must admit, though, that the 3-hour nap she took on Sunday, back in her crib, was a great way to end the trip!

She Vants to Suck Your Blood ... from a bottle

Our little vampire! She started drooling when she was 4 months old. We thought she was going to get teeth really early, but instead it was 2 whole months of copious drool until she got her first bottom tooth at the end of February.

It took another month before the second tooth arrived at the end of March. Then I assumed the third tooth would arrive at the end of April. But no .... finally, about a week into May, we saw two teeth appear on the top, at the same time!

Funnily enough, it wasn't the two middle teeth, as you'd expect. But the next two teeth out. That, as they have grown, they have started to look more and more like fangs. She looks cute and innocent ... until the fangs appear!

Not Very Fortunate

I got lunch from Tea House Noodles the other day (be forewarned that their graphics have sound effects, so you might not want to click the link at work if others sit close by). I really wanted the pad thai noodles with peanut sauce, but decided to try something healthier and get the noodles with miso broth and tofu. Big disappointment; it just wasn't very flavorful at all. So I know this means I'll order out from them again, sooner than I normally would, so I can satisfy my pad thai cravings.

But anyway, a fortune cookie comes with the meal. After setting aside the remainder of my bland noodles, I was looking forward to the tasty cookie, as well as the fortune. The crunch and sweetness didn't disappoint, but the fortune was ... not a fortune. At all. It said:

"A movie would be a great way to relax this weekend."

What?!? How is that a fortune? Plus, we're already going camping this weekend. You know nothing of my weekend plans, Fortune Cookie! Much less what I find relaxing. Maybe I would rather relax with a good book, or by cooking, or by running a marathon. (ha!) Or maybe I'm blind.

Maybe you should stop making assumptions about my lifestyle, and just tell me what is going to happen in the future! I don't care if it comes true or not; if it were very specific and it did come true, I would actually find that quite creepy. But no more of this banal advice. Give me a real fortune next time! And by next time, I mean Monday afternoon when I pick up some peanut pad thai for lunch .....

The Technical Term is "Hardscape"

As I mentioned recently, Beckett has been in charge of the landscaping in the backyard, which has resulted in a lot of mud and poop. Not so much with the grass and flowers. So I have been trying recently to rectify it.

The good thing, and the bad thing, is that it's very slow work. Our yard is such a disaster. We made some progress the first two summers we were here. We tore out overgrown bushes, planted some flowers ... Keith and my dad even built a deck! But last summer was the time of contractors, and Eleanor's arrival. And between the two, our yard has been covered in trash and weeds ever since.

A few weeks ago, I FINALLY got around to picking up most of the trash that the contractors left behind. Now I'm onto picking up refuse that we ourselves have left behind. What I mean by that is, when we put in the deck, city code required us to put a layer of gravel underneath, to keep down weeds. Which is all fine and good .... but we neglected to use anything to keep the gravel actually under the deck. Fast forward nearly 2 years later, and there is a slowly expanding ring of gravel being ground into the area around the deck.

What I thought was a Sunday afternoon project, which quickly turned into this week's project, and is well on it's way to becoming the summer-long project, is getting all of that gravel up and out of the way, and the gravel that is still under the deck contained. This feels like a case of one step forward, two steps back. The deck is wonderful ... but why didn't we just take care of the gravel the first time around?!?

I'd like to think that this is a learning experience, but I doubt it will be. Two years from now, I'll be bemoaning something else that I did this summer and never really got around to tidying up. At least one nice thing about yard work is that you never really expect it to end, anyway. So the fact that there's always something else isn't really that perturbing. At least, that's what I'm going with for now.

Gearing Up for Camping

This coming weekend, we will be taking Eleanor on her first camping trip.

I think that she'll love it, and I'm really looking forward to seeing her reaction to the whole experience. I am a bit nervous about bedtime, though. I guess she'll just sleep between Keith and I, in our sleeping bags in the tent? But does that mean we go to bed with her, at 8 o'clock in the evening? Or do we leave her in there by herself? What are the chances that I can slowly back out through the tent flap, and not wake her up with the loud sound of the zipper closing?

Plus, there's all the other sounds of a busy campground at night. Cars coming around the road, with headlights shining into the tent .... I guess we will just have to try our hardest to wear her out during the day, so she zonks at night?

It's going to be interesting!