4 Pounds of Trouble:Life with Donovan

I Am Doing A Good Job Mothering

2008-07-05T18:07:00.000-07:00

Today was my first cemetery tour of 2008 and the first one I've done in about a year. I took last year off as I couldn't really see myself lugging a newborn thru a 200 acre historic burial ground.

Due to bad planning on my part, however, I pushed a 15 month old thru a 200 acre historic burial ground. I mean, how could I know anyone would actually sign up for the tour? People are so weird.

Joking aside, I had two people on my tour today and they were just nice as pie--very interested and very conversational. I couldn't ask for a better way to get back in the cemetery tour saddle. Donny, of course, was the perfect baby--he fell asleep by the second monument and stayed that way right until we went back to the office to check out. Of course all the cemetery folk were happy to see him. I almost wished he was a little older as he got waved at by one of the guys driving the backhoe and another who was buzzing by in one of the big work trucks.

My one regret is that I didn't take the time to take any photos of the boy at the cemetery. That's a regret for myself; for him, I kind of felt like he got the short end of the Saturday morning stick and taking photos of him after an hour and a half of being pushed around mausoleums would have been a bit too much like exploitation.

Even tho there was a lot to do at home (or maybe because there was so much to do at home) I decided to make the rest of the day Baby Day. We had lunch at Uncle Sam's, where the boy ate risotto I had packed for him and then shared my fries. We then bussed it to the park in front of the library where he proceeded to run around in his bare baby feet.

I must say, the cap/shirt/shorts combo was a winner. I need to go into business as a Baby Stylist. Sadly, I'm guessing there are such things...

ANYhow, after the park, there was running around to be done in the library then home on the bus then reading of many books (my throat is much better today) and about a 45 minute nap. For him. Reading for me.

The End.

Maybe Its the Nyquil...

2008-07-04T18:03:00.001-07:00

Does anyone else watch those horrible "Dateline" murder mystery shows? I get sucked into them every now and then and I remembered one today. A young single mother was murdered and the person who found her body also found the woman's 18 month old daughter trying to wake her mother up. I know that's a horrible thing to think of but I was sick today with a wretched sore throat and was trying not to talk. I was laying on the floor and Donny kept dropping books on me. I feel like if I did die, the CSI folks could tell how long I'd been dead by calculating how long it would take a 20lb baby to drag a board book 5ft 10in and then toss it onto his mother. "The body was covered with 539 books and 7 magazines. She's been dead at least 3 days."

I was feeling like a bad Mom, tying to get out of reading to the boy. I played the piano for him and his xylophone. I even fired up the talking battery operated drum. That still did'nt stop him from throwing books in my lap.

Completely off topic: Need work done on your roof? DO NOT call AP Home Services. Its a very long story but, suffice it to say, after 4 different estimates, 3 on site visits and several phone calls, their sales manager accused me of being "dishonest" because I actually had the nerve to assume the quote given to us by the sales rep he sent out was acceptable. Anyone out there know of a good roofer?

With My Hair Slicked Back/With Carrion Shellac

2008-06-29T18:33:00.000-07:00

Where to start?

Well, a couple of months ago, Mike got word from a friend of his that Tom Waits was going to play a show in Columbus. A couple of years ago he played Akron and by the time I found out all the tickets were gone. This time I was ready--not optimistic but ready. I locked the door to my office, got the credit card out, logged onto TicketMaster and kept hitting "Refresh." For 20 minutes. AND IT WORKED! I actually got tickets! Unbelievable. I couldn't really read the seating chart to see what AAA PIT meant but, as long as it was in the theatre, I was happy.

Next hurdle: finding someone to watch the kid overnight. We were hoping to spare Mike's folks that particular situation just because they already watch him alot and, tho he's usually a good baby, when he's not, he's not. Our friend Erica was set to watch him--until her friends told her that babysitting on Saturday would overlap with the surprise birthday party they had planned for her. Ooops. We finally arranged with Grammy and Grandpop that we would come back the same night and pick him up so that their Sunday would be unencumbered (very important for church goin' folk).

We wanted to hit the road by 2 on Saturday but, of course, everything took longer than it should have. I was particularly nervous as the tickets were ETickets meaning you get in by swiping the credit card you used to buy them. I managed to loose that card the day I bought the tickets. I was told that the new card and the original order number would get me in but I could just see the night turning into a very expensive version of "Jukebox Hero." We got into Columbus at about 7:15 and by 7:30 a very nice volunteer usher lady was personally escorting us to the ticket office window to get our tickets. The show was at the Ohio Theatre and, as anyone who has ever been to a restored-grand-old-theatre can tell you, the usher ladies are usually of the older variety. Our escort was no exception and, as she hustled us thru the crowd, she kept saying, "I've never seen anything like this! I've never even heard of Tom Waits and I thought I was with it!" I assured her that after that show, she would be.

We got our tickets, no problem, and I went to find our seats while Mike went to find the men's room. I showed my ticket to another set of usher ladies who told me to show it to "the man in the bowtie." I did so and he took me to my seat.

In. The. FRONT. ROW.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The look on Mike's face must have been the same one I had of "This is really great but it can't possibly be right but I'm going to keep a straight face so maybe we can get away with it." One of Mike's friends from work was there and the two of them kept texting each other like a couple of middle school girls (tho, to their credit, they stopped before the show started.) This guy is the one who told us about the show in the first place and their seats were good but up in the normal floor section. Once he saw where we were, the texts became variations on "You lucky bastard." "How did you get those seats? You bastard!" O Mighty TicketMaster Gods: Our Humble Thanks To You.

Here is a shot of the stage backdrop from my seat:

Here is a shot of Tom's parade drum:

This is not a music review blog so I'll keep it short and just say that the show was phenomenal, especially "Cemetery Polka" and a crazy, unhinged version of "Hoist That Rag," that made me feel like I was actually inside the head of Tom Waits. He must have seen me in the front row because they also did, "November," which is one of my favorites. No intermission, just 2 straight hours of perfect music. From the front row.

Dang.

Mike drove back, which made it about 8 hours worth of driving in less than 24 hours. We got in at about 3:30, picked up the kid (sound asleep and he stayed that way) got home, poured Donny into his crib, crashed in our bed and woke up at 9 when the kid started squawking.

Today we went to the Carnegie International. Donny was pretty good but it was hard to look at art the way I'm used to looking at art. I had to just accept everything quickly and at face value, without time to read the labels. There was one installation with lights and venetian blinds that Donny really liked. I was hoping he'd be into the room with the crystal orbs scattered around but he was a bit too fussy for that. By the time we got halfway thru, he was asleep. I carried him for awhile but then we started getting sleepy too. We packed him up and called it a day.

How was your weekend?

Summerness

2008-06-25T18:59:00.000-07:00

I had a night out with Aunt Shirley on Monday. It started at The Red Room to which I keep giving chances not to be ridiculous and which keeps being ridiculous. Any appetizer that includes a plastic syringe of hot sauce is JUST TRYING TOO HARD. Really: calm down, already!

ANYhow, we went to the New Hazlett Theatre to see Peter Murphy. I contend he is my generations Goth Tom Jones and he certainly worked that angle. And I mean that in the best possible way. And I should know as our seats were in the sweeeet third row. Really, really good seats. The man is such a great singer that I suspended all disbelief (tho the early era Bowie mime moves were a bit much).

When Mike dropped me off to meet Sheryl he noticed that I had forgotten my wedding ring. "What are you guys?" he asked setting up the best joke of the night: "A couple of Goth Cougars?"

Roar.

But back to the boy: he had a busy weekend which, unfortunately, coincided with more teething. His aunt, uncle and cousin were in from Denver and they were all very geeked to see him. Jack, his cousin, is 9 and, from what his mom says, is very excited about Donny. It made it all the more sad when Jack set off fireworks for Donovan and it scared the bejesus out of the kid. Susie says Jack's fine and I hope he is. The look on his face tho, when Donny started to cry--ooooh, I felt so bad for the kid!

Mike took the week off to have a "staycation," which is when you stay at home during your vacation to get stuff done. He's been doing a great job with that and the bonus is when I'm done with work, I don't have to wait for him to get done. That means we were done with stuff early enough to have a picnic, baby's first. We ate O Fries in the new park between the Carnegie Library and Hillman Library. The Krishnas were there drumming and chanting and Donny got to run around in the grass in his bare feet. Perfect way to end the day.

Guess I Get This Week's "Best Mom" Medal

2008-06-17T06:24:00.001-07:00

When I went to pick Donny up from daycare yesterday his teacher, Miss Erin, was running down the list of things he needs there; "He needs more milk--I think he still has some blueberries. I saw them in the fridge today and thought, 'Those must be Donovan's! No other babies get fresh fruit for lunch!'"

Huh?

E-Town to Dahntahn

2008-06-14T18:37:00.000-07:00

WHEW, its been a busy week--or is it a busy two weeks? At this point I have no idea. What that means blogwise is that I'm going to be stingy with the writing and lavish with the photos. You're welcome.

Last Sunday, Mike, Donovan and I drove to see my family in Elyria. Its a 3 hour drive there and the same back and to maximize our time we left at about 8am. Donny slept alot on the way there and I thought he would be alright but, once we got there, it must have been too much unfamiliarity all at once. He was cranky and reticent with my Mom (of all people!) and the trip to the Aunts was over in about 20 minutes (tho he did play their 19th century untuneable piano as you'll see in the photos below). My sister was in the hospital so Mike and Donny went home and I stayed a couple of extra days to help out at home.

I got home on Wednesday and plunged straight back into work--which is getting increasingly crazy these days. Not bad, necessarily, just hard to keep up with. Needless to say I was glad to see the weekend come.

Today was babyday and it was fun tho the rain kept us housebound all day. We missed the Whole Foods Ice Cream Social but, once Mike got done with work, we all three went downtown to the Magarac Attack! We saw our friends Will and Kirsten and we got to meet Kirsten's Dad, Don. We watched the Spuds, walked Donny around and then went to Primanti's. Then we looked at the cool fountain but did'nt take any photos.

See? Even that much tired me out. Now for the photos

My Son, Joe Magerac
:
Baby's First Primanti's Sammich!

So Very Sweaty...

2008-06-07T19:24:00.000-07:00

What you see above, gentle readers, is what I got my son at the Melwood Avenue Multiple family yardsale. FOR $3. AAAAANNNND: they delivered it, plus the insane cast aluminum and glass bakeware set. But back to the drums: $3!?!?! I know Donny won't be able to use them for years but, I'm sorry, it had to be done. I kept thinking of the clip of John Bonham's son from The Song Remains the Same. Time to start training that baby hair into a mullet!

So, yeah: today was Babyday and it went much, much better than last week. Which is surprising as both yesterday and today were scorching, horrid hot. Donny and I started the day by visiting the yardsale which, despite the drums and the bakeware, was'nt all that. Still, it was a good excuse to go to the "other" end of Melwood and make nice with some of those neighbors. Donovan, of course, was ooohed and aaahed over. He almost got a free little plastic racecar as a bribe to stop crying but he pushed it away in a fit of tiredness. We came home, I gave him a bottle and he fell asleep in his crip. When I woke him up an hour later I thought for sure his diaper had sprung a leak but, no, the huge babysized wetspot on the sheet was just sweat. With that in mind, I changed his clothes, fed him and then we went in search of airconditioning.

Our first stop was the library (tho the bus itself was gloriously cool). We hung out in the children's room, which I had fully expected to be full of kids and parents beating the heat like we were. It was actually sort of empty so we took over the toys and the couch. There were a few other mouthbreathers there so Donny got to socialize. We stayed there about an hour, hour and a half, checked out a book called Astro Bunnies, and then went to our secret hideaway, The Frick Fine Art Building. I tried again to take photos of Donovan in front of the fake art, this time with slightly more success:
My actual goal was to kill enough time for us to meet Mike at Whole Foods, which we did. From there we got some subs (cause ain't nobody in this house cookin'. Not in this heat...) From there we drove home and, getting out of the car, we got an invite yelled to us from our nextdoor neighbors to come join their daughter's graduation party. After 7 years here you'd think we'd know more folks but we don't and this seemed like a good opportunity. We changed the boy into his pjs and went over. They have a wonderful deck and pool and the party was in full swing. Again, Mr. Popularbaby went over very well. Our neighbor Nancy kept trying to get me to put Donny's feet in the pool but I did'nt feel I would be able to hold onto him well if I did. He did, however, get to play with a Yorkie puppy--his first real puppy interaction--and that was great.

Now the kid's asleep and I have to pack. We're going to visit my folks tomorrow. Mike and Donny are coming back tomorrow night but I'm staying for a few days. My sister's been in the hospital so I'm going home to help out--not sure how yet but off I go. Wish me luck!

Full Disclosure

2008-05-31T18:21:00.000-07:00

Today was Saturday and Saturday is Baby Day. Its the day Mike works but Donny and I have off. We usually have a good time on Saturdays.

Usually.

I barked at my 13 month old son today--he really wanted to take a nap but he wouldn't. The whining, the whining, it went on and on. For well over an hour. I had taken him out of his crib into our bed and, usually, he tires himself out there just sort of rolling around. I finally just took him off the bed, sat him down on a pile of dirty laundry and said, "WHAT do you WANT? WHAT IS IT that you WANT?" That doesn't look so bad on paper but I guess I have A Tone because he looked hurt and then started really crying. I finally took him downstairs to play some more, which he did while whining. When Mike got home he noticed a fourth tooth coming in up top so maybe that's part of it but I don't know. And maybe I'm imagining it, but I don't think Donovan made eye contact with me the rest of the night. Not until after dinner at least. He was all smiles and laughs for Dad. I'm torn between feeling guilty and cheesed off.

With that combination of emotions in mind, I present the following list of complaints:

1. I wish my son wouldn't whine so much. Cutting it down to 50% of the time would be nice.

2. I wish he was more affectionate. He's really not at all. Not to me or his Dad. Not even to stuffed animals.

3. I wish my kid liked stuffed animals.

4. I wish my kid didn't have to "spike" all his toys. Currently that's how he plays with everything: pick it up, gather some strength, slam it down, repeat. And since he doesn't like stuffed animals, he's spiking blocks, puzzle pieces, little battery operated keyboards, big battery operated bilingual talking drums--lots of heavy things that make crashing noises.

5. I wish the developmental specialists would have been more forthcoming about where Donny is developmentally. This whole, "We don't look at milestones, we look at progress" thing is bullshit. The hell they don't look for milestones. They make their living off of milestones. I bet they all have stock in that horrible Baby Einstein company.

6. I wish one damn store in Allegheny County carried shoes in Donovan's size. Allow me to correct that: I wish one damn store in Allegheny County carried shoes in Donovan's size for under $45 dollars. You heard me right. I don't spend that much for shoes for myself and my feet are much bigger.

In all fairness, Donny's list might look something like this:

1. Enough with the oatmeal, Ma. Seriously. Enough.

2. What's with the terrible radio station? Didn't you download all sorts of good music for me?

3. Pick your own nose--leave mine alone.

4. Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss: save it for someone who reciprocates.

5. All the other ladies make big excited faces when they talk to me. My own mother and you're so blase. Makes me wonder if you even care.

6. And for the last time: The Sippy Cup Is Not An Option.

Hopefully we'll both sleep it off.

Petting Zoo Withdrawl

2008-05-29T12:10:00.001-07:00

The University where I work recently formalized its choice of mascot. For years, most folks thought the mascot was a Scottie dog but, officially speaking, we never had a mascot.

Now we do: A Scottie Dog. And the University has been given an 8 week old scottie puppy who will be the actual mascot.

I got to go to a luncheon for the lady who bred and raised the pup--I was hoping to meet the puppy today but she's too tired from her trip. I might get to meet her next week and I'm seriously geeked.

When I was growing up in Elyria--in a not-wealthy-but-nice neighborhood--it seemed like there were always puppies and kittens around. The kittens were usually strays and the puppies usually belonged to someone. Nowadays, you don't see that as much. I know that's good: overpopulation of dogs and cats only brings misery and I'm sure I'm seeing fewer puppies and kittens because more people are spaying and neutering their animals. All this is good.

But I miss the kittens. And the puppies. We are going to have to make a real effort for Donovan to grow up with and around animals.

Me, Bob Dylan and Queen Victoria

2008-05-24T19:28:00.000-07:00

Today was my birthday today and it was very, very nice. My husband got me a biography of Evelyn Nesbit that I did'nt even know existed and, when he got home from work, he brought me a burnt almond torte from Whole Foods. Donovan gave me the best gift a one year old can give his mother which is a nap that lasted from 10:30 until 2:00pm. While he slept I was able to mop the kitchen floor with some ammonia, do laundry, make cornbread and do some inital weeding in the front yard. Once the boy woke up there was playing to be done and a walk to take. My friend Kirsten offered an evening of babysitting for my birthday, which meant Mike and I got to go to Gooski's together for the first time since...well, since my birthday last year.

My folks called today and when my Mom asked what I was up to tonight, I told her, "I'm trying to decide between going someplace fancy or just going to Gooski's" "Go to Gooskis--get reaquainted with each other." I love my Mom.

Now its time to get some cake: Hot. Damn.

The Art of Walking

2008-05-23T06:32:00.000-07:00

Mike and Donny and I went for a little "walk" last night. I use the quotes because Donovan is not really walking on his own yet but he's getting damn close. You'll note in the above photo that he's holding onto Dad with one hand. It's fun to watch him--every step he takes, he gets this wild look on his face, like, "I did it! Holy Shit, I did it again! AND AGAIN!!!"
When I see that look, my heart fills with love and the listening room in my head is filled with variations on this. You have to listen to the end to hear the part that I've been hearing.

I Think I'm Raising A Monster

2008-05-18T21:57:00.000-07:00

Full Disclosure: I don't know anything about babies. I certainly don't know how to raise them. That the doctors at West Penn let us take Donny home without so much as a paralell parking test is still shocking to me and, 13 months into it all, I still think I'm winging it.

That all being said, I used some babyfree time yesterday (Donny spent Saturday with the Pittsburgh Grandparents) reading my babyfood cookbooks. One of them made some mention of sleep training and I thought, "Hmm: Should we be doing that?"

Here's the thing: Percentagewise, Donovan's sleep habits are fine. We put him down, he usually wakes up once, we go in and reinsert his binkston and all is well. Now and then there's a high maintenance night, usually due to teething.

Here's the other thing: Putting Donny to bed can be the best part of the day. I like his nursery, I like holding him, we still give him a nighttime bottle (is that so wrong?) and I do feel like my time with him is so limited. That's not working mom guilt, that's just facts: he's at daycare from 9 until 5:30. That's 8 1/2 hours, folks, and a couple of hours after that are just the getting home mess.

I realize we're going to have to let him learn to soothe himself soon. He's up to 18 pounds now and, soon, I won't be able to carry him around anymore. Not easily at least. If I put him in his crib asleep for a few more weeks, he won't turn into Norman Bates, will he?

Get Out Your Dreambooks...

2008-05-17T18:30:00.001-07:00

I called my folks tonight. Mom said she had had two dreams about me. "In the first one, you were a toddler. Mr. Pletcher [our archnemesis neighbor: more on that someday if you buy me a drink] had you over on their porch across the street and he was lovin' you up saying, "You don't have to go home, you don't have to go home" and I was seething!" Dream #2: "You had had a baby girl and when I asked you were Donovan was, you said, "I don't know. I can't watch him all the time!"

Only Love Can Break Your Heart, Pt. 2

2008-05-14T19:40:00.000-07:00

Our cat Nina died today.

That may come as a shock to some people but those who know us will remember that last year she was diagnosed with cancer and given 2 months to live. She got in close to 9. She hadn't been feeling well and had stopped eating. We were torn between upsetting her (and, frankly, our budget) with a trip to the vet and watching her go down hill. This morning when I woke up she was sleeping in her usual spot behind my legs. Last night she sat on my lap for a long time letting me pet her. While we were at work today she went down in the basement, found a secluded spot and slipped away.

Anyone who's lost a pet knows how awful it is. Anyone who's never had a pet may not realize that its worth getting your heart broken every 4-6 years or so.

Fussiness All Around

2008-05-13T09:44:00.000-07:00

I recently reconnected with one of my favorite fellow telemarketing alum buddies via the miracle of Facebook. She has a great life going on, including her duties writing and editing the About.com Astrology pages. I need to ask her what sort of meteor destroyoed Mercury last night because, between 10pm and just about now, life has been thrown cattywampus. I took off of work yesterday to follow up on housestuff, including signing for a registered letter that was inexplicably sent to the Downtown Pittsburgh postoffice, dealing with my cell phone plan at the office of origin, and--wonder of wonders--clothes shopping. With Donny in daycare I got an amazing about of stuff done. I even got to go out to dinner with Shirley.

Then I went home.

Donny has been teething for the past 3 or 4 days and the poor kid is miserable. He's been feverish off and on, spitting up constantly and just unable to sleep. Last night there were hours of shrieking and squirming and general malaise. He did finally fall asleep a little bit after 1am--I think he was just too exhausted to cry any more. This morning he managed to spit up twice, one of which was just when we'd put him in his carseat. He made it to daycare alright but I ended up taking his bag of lunch and bottles to work with me by mistake. Then I spilled a bottle of cranberry juice in my purse. THEN I found out one of the candidates for the job search I'm working on may be spitting the bait.

Hmmph.

I wish I was one of those graceful people who are able to keep a clean house and a nice yard and a balanced checkbook. I always feel like I'm scrambling to stay afloat. If I'm going to feel overworked, I'd at least like my life to be polished and tidy--I mean, if I'm overworked, why is nothing getting done?

We Spit On Your Graves

2008-05-04T14:28:00.001-07:00

You knew it was coming. I bet you thought it wouldn't take this long. What surprised me was where: St. Mary's and NOT Homewood.

I had to be creative today: Mike's working so it was just me and the boy again today. I thought I'd take him into Bloomfield, we'd pick up a bus schedule at the Hospital and plan our next move from there. My first thought was to take him to the playground but that was a bust. That meant we were stranded in Bloomfield on a Sunday until the next Polish Hill bound 54C came by. 2 and a half hours. Not bad for me but for a one year old that must seem like eternity. So I did the thing any right thinking mother would do: I took my kid to the Catholic cemetery.

St. Mary's is a beautiful old cemetery, as you can see by the photos. I took a tour there once that was so poorly done I screamed in my head for an hour and still had to leave early. I don't know the cemetery that well so I stuck to the area near the gate. We set up camp in the shade of a lovely old mausoleum that looked like it had never been sandblasted--it still had that black industrial soot patina that all the local churches are so quick to wash away. I got Donovan out of his stroller and we walked up and down the path. He did really well walking, holding on to just one of my fingers with one of his hands. He did'nt seem very interested in the cool old stones and mausoleums but he was laughing and enjoying the breeze and the lovely green grass.

All that being said, I'd like to send an apology out to the Fraudenlien family. Donny and I got into a raspberry contest right in front of their family lot. We meant no disrespect but it felt somehow very wrong. Funny, but very wrong.

We had a nice visit but still had too much time to kill so we caught a 54C into Oakland. We had 15 minutes before the 54C that would take us back into Polish Hill. I thought Donny might like the fountain at the Carnegie Art Museum--he in fact liked it so much he almost dragged me into it. He stood there at the edge and just laughed, like he was an evil scientist savoring the view of the planet he was about to blow up.

Now we're home and he's asleep in his carseat. I think my face is sunburned--a small price to pay.

Busy Rainy Day

2008-05-03T18:48:00.000-07:00

Considering everything Donny and I did today there should be a ton of photos. There are not, however. I'm telling myself that's because I was in the moment and not outside of it with a camera. That and the fact that fumbling thru the diaperbag to find the camera can be such a chore...

Mike dropped Donovan and I off at the Kidstuff Rummage Sale. The sale took place at the adorable little Swedenborgian church that's nestled at the end of the adorable little street called Le Roi Road. Seriously, its too sweet, with its cottagey little houses and lawns just brimful of spring flowers. Note to self: play Powerball this week...

Walking up to the church I saw Amy Lewis, a Shanley family friend of long standing. She had a handful of fliers about the sale that she was getting ready to tape up on the barricades that were blocking the main street. Turns out today was the Spring Hat Luncheon for the Pittsburgh Parks Conservancy. It was also the opening ot the Pittsburgh International. Pittsburgh has days like that where everything is happening at once.

ANYhow, the rummage sale was small but I got some good swag, including an excellent (if I do say so myself) gift for Ms. Stella Dot. When we got done it was officially raining. I should mention that the umbrella I thought was in the car had not been there so we were open to the elements. Luckily, I knew just the place for us to wait out the rain: the porch of the Visitor's Center at the Frick, Pittsburgh.

Friends, this is where I wish I had taken out my camera. I worked at the Frick for over 10 years and even before Donny came along I'd thought how great it would be to take a kid there just to run around. It would also be historically accurate--union busting jagoff that he was, Frick loved kids. As my Uncle Vic would say, Donny and I "dodged the raindrops" and ran the half a block to the Frick. I got him out of his stroller and let him walk around the Visitor's Center porch. For those of you who have never been there, the Visitor's Center is actually the Children's Playhouse. Its an actual, livable house but somethings, like the porch railings, are scaled down to kidsize. Perfect for a little mouthbreather like my boy to hold onto as he teetered along. It was my favorite type of day at the Frick; rainy and green and lush. The grounds are so wonderful and you can't beat that porch for a vantage point. As we sat there alot of my docent buddies reported for their workday and I got to introduce Donny to some of my favorite people. He obliged me by being his charming self. The rain tapered off and my friend Charles loaned me the world's largest umbrella. Which was good because as soon as we got to the busstop the heavens opened. We took the bus into Oakland and, long story short, ended up at the Carnegie Library. Donny played with the wooden table with the beads and I finally got to take some pictures of the Beatrix Potter exhibit:
This is a long view to show the painted backdrop. Should I be all geeky and mention that the Carnegie Library is connected to the Carnegie Museum of Natural History which despite the best efforts of people I disagree with still has a fine selection of dioramas with handpainted backdrops? Please note the lady who "presented" the display was named "Mabel." So how old is this thing? You should probably enlarge this photo to see that the bunnies in the diorama are made out of catkins. You know; the fuzzy pods on pussywillows. LOVE it. Love it, love it, love it.

After about an hour at the library we caught the 54C home. Donny fell dead asleep in my arms about halfway there so, when we got in, I curled up with him in my bed and took a little nap. I figured the dishes could wait.

Wherein I Very Uncharacteristically Thank a Saint

2008-05-02T06:31:00.000-07:00

10 days ago, and I don't quite remember how I thought to do this, I decided to pray a novena to St. Jude. Vatican II came to Elyria, Ohio when I was 4th grade. Up until then CCD class was like regular school--you sat at desks and raised your hand when you wanted to answer a question. CCD was better than regular school in that you could win stuff just for memorizing things. I'm freakishly RainManlike when it comes to memorizing. I acquired a nice cache of holy cards and medals.

Then my Mom moved me from St. Mary's to Sacred Heart (you know: The Church That Won't Baptise My Baby). No more desks--we all sat in a circle on the floor and talked about "feelings." No more holy cards or medals--and definitely no learning how to say a novena or a rosary or anything even remotely traditional or interesting like that.

So I went online and found a St. Jude Novena site. Of course there's a St. Jude novena site. I printed out their handy form for keeping track of my devotions and set forth on the nine day "program."

I won't go into detail but suffice it to say I took this drastic measure because I simply could not handle the level of worry that was building up in me. It felt like a huge knot of threads--I'd try to untangle one but it would only tighten another. I did'nt want miracles I just wanted some freakin' Peace of Mind. Enough that I could get the day to day stuff done. Enough to stop spiraling out of control. So I prayed a novena and, oddly, I think it worked. No miracles, no rays of light emanating from my head, but I did calm down.

The St. Jude Novena apparently is very old but really took hold in the Chicago area in the late 1800s/early 1900s. One of the more charming 19th century aspects of the Novena is that, after you complete it, you are supposed to make a public statement about it. The traditional way is to take out an add in the newspaper thanking St. Jude. Not knowing which newspapers he subscribes to these days, I figure I'll give him a shout out on the ol' Blogski: Dear Patron Saint of the Hopeless--thanks for calming me down. It really helped me get my life back on track. Here's hoping I won't be bothering you again any time soon but its good to know you're out there.
xxoo
Jen

Workin' It

2008-04-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

This morning I noticed one of Donny's eyebrows looked very, well, dramatic. It was dark and shiny and cocked at a rather rakish angle. "Oh, that" Mike said, "That's the bananas."

You heard it here first, eco conscious fashionistas: Banana Eyebrow Lacquer. Very Joan Crawford. Very Isabella Blow.

Oddly, His Mother Hates Musicals...

2008-04-28T14:07:00.000-07:00

Last night, Mike and I were ganging up on the boy, getting him undressed and ready for his bath in the sink. He was lecturing us with his usual, "Da da DA DA DA! Da." Then he said "Da da TA!" This was the first time either Mike or I had heard the T sound coming from the boy. The rest of the night was us trying to get him to say, "Ta Da!" I personally would consider a firm, "Ta Da!" said with conviction and verve, to be an acceptable first word.

My first word, apparently, was "Duck." I've always liked to think of a sort of WWI Trench Warfare scenario; "So I was shooting my tommy gun into all the jerrys when the baby yelled "Duck!" How did she know that grenade was coming over? That kid saved my life!"

Stress: Not Just A Verb Anymore

2008-04-24T19:24:00.000-07:00

Life has been very stressful lately. I hate using the word "stress." Its such a passive 1990s concept, like second hand smoke or caffeine. But I guess I'm allowed to claim stress really exists if it gives me hives and intermittently makes me cry in public. So, tho I'm unwilling to acknowlege the validity of either caffeine or secondhand smoke as theories, I'll suck it up and get in the line of people blaming their hives on "stress."

Having named the problem, I'm now on a campaign to eliminate it. This means alot of things. It means saying "no" to things I don't want to do. It means hunting down friends with lives of their own and forcing them to have fun with me. It means saying a novena even if doing so sort of makes me feel silly even as it calms me down. It also means trying not to let money issues weigh me down or spiral out of control.

That being said, I worry about the number of credit fix commercials Donovan hears. We have the radio on for him alot and those damn commercials--every 3rd commercial on the radio is one of those commercials. A couple of months ago there was a set of them that had me reaching for my non-existant gun. A woman with this ripe yet understanding voice asks you all these questions "Are you scared of the future? Do you feel like your'e drowning in debt? Do you pay your bills but never seem to get ahead?" OK--that's the set up we're all familiar with, but then she says, "Well, its not your fault!" Not my fault? THE HELL ITS NOT! It is most certainly my fault--I may be filled with self loathing but I'm not stupid. Oy. So I worry about the boy--I worry that his room smells like diapers and not like the lavendar and roman chamomile esssential oil I put in the aromatherapy diffuser. I worry that, between the pollution of poop smells and shit commercials he will grow up a stressed out mess like his hivey old mom.

I went to a memorial service for my friend Digby today. I can now tell you that you havent heard a medley of show tunes until you've heard them on the Heinz Chapel Pipe Organ.

Am I From Another Planet?

2008-04-21T10:17:00.000-07:00

Yikes.

Not Going to Carnival

2008-04-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

Carnegie Mellon has a Carnival every year and every year I get all excited to go. 9 times out of 10 I end up not going. Mike and I went last year and, apart from the poorly made funnelcake served to us by the aggressively disenchanted student, it was fun. This year I was stoked to take Donny.

Mike worked today so it was just me, the boy and the Pittsburgh transit system. My initial thought was to start at the library and then walk the block and a half to the carnival. As I was trying to cram everything for the boy into a reasonably sized bag, however, I realized I needed a backpack. Well, that would work: take the bus downtown, get a backpack at Burlington, choose one of a gazillion buses going back into Oakland.

We had a fine time at the first bus stop, which is the Herron Avenue Station. Donovan was smart enough to bring a block with him and that kept him amused up until the bus came.
No backpacks at Burlington (which means the era of the backpack as purse is officially officially over.) We hopped a 71A back into Oakland, had lunch at the little park outside of the library and then went into the kids library. As far as experiments go, it was a good one. Donny is still too young to really understand what's going on there but he enjoyed the alphabet rug and the wooden box with the wires and beads. He started to get a little shrieky and, having grown up in the Quiet Library era, I decided it was time to make an escape. That left us with 40 minutes before the next 54C home: not enough time for carnival but way too much time to spend at the busstop.

So we went to the Frick Fine Arts Building.

I love this building--its got a great backstory and its such an oldschool didactic space built in the completely wrong era. I don't know the architectural term for it but the center of the main building has this wonderful square gallery that surrounds a little square garden.
The gallery is full of reproductions of famous paintings. I tried to take a photo of Donny in front of Botticelli's Birth of Venus but I couldn't quite get the angle right. He was all wound up so I let him crawl around the polished stone floor--I'm sure Pitt mops that space way more than we ever mop our kitchen.
We also went outside to look at the fountain and the pots of pansies.

By the time we got back on the bus the boy was fussy. He couldn't get comfortable so I finally sat him on my lap facing forward and just held him down. Within about a minute he was snoring.

We didn't go to Carnival but it was still a nice day.

The Hot Dog of Dorian Grey

2008-04-17T11:10:00.000-07:00

I’ve been able to get in some babyless socializing and its been very nice. It’s also been sort of a wake up call. Today, Sheryl and I decided to be naughty schoolgirls and get lunch at the hot dog cart here on campus. My naughty schoolgirl sojurn ended when the hotdog lady asked me if Sheryl was my daughter.

I’m 41. Sheryl’s 40.

I am so getting a haircut this weekend.

Deep Ocean, Vast Sea

2008-04-12T21:34:00.000-07:00

I've been surprisingly good about not using my credit card. Not as good as I should be, perhaps, but pretty darn good.

I dusted that mofo off tonight and bought 2 tickets to the Peter Murphy show in Cleveland.

This is how I operate: "Peter Murphy show in June? Why, that gives me plenty of time to lose weight! That can be my goal! Yes, yes--the carrot on the end of the stick! Why, I think I'll go brush and floss and wash my face right now! I feel better already!" Phone rings. Husband asks if I want a Baconator before the Wendy's drivethru closes. I go with a Spicy Chicken sandwich instead.

I bet you think its all fun and glamour and hahaha all the time, being a Gemini. No, no--we have our burdens, alas.

Speaking of food, I managed to make the boy what amounted to a honest to god souffle tonight. It was so freakish I actually ran upstairs to get the camera to take a photo of it. In the 30 seconds that took, Donny started CRYING. I mean can't catch your breath tears streaming down your face crying. I had to console him, obviously, but that meant when I finally took the photos the souffle had fallen. The kid continued to cry thru eating his souffle (which he seemed to like, tho it was hard to tell) and also while I tried to give him a bottle. The mystery was solved when he fell dead asleep on my chest while we were on the couch in the front room: "Oh. He's exhausted. That's what was going on." I actually ended up putting him into his crib in full daywear regalia: overalls, stripey shirt, shoes and all. I figured rightly that he would wake up a couple hours later and then it would be pajama time. Considering everything, he went down pretty easy tonight. It was just me and him as Dad went to the New Pornographers show. Last night he went to see John Vanderslice. All this of course means that Mike will be babysitting while me and Peter Murphy spend a romantic postshow evening splitting a bottle of Boones Farm somewhere dark and picturesque in Lakeview Cemetery.

Bad food is seems to be the theme of the night, doesn't it? Maybe I'm homesick.