How do Moms do it? How do they have the persistence and diligence to undertake the hurculean task of recording every detail of their precious childrens lives? Every moment, recorded with accuracy and precision — complete with lockets of hair, meticulous charts and graphs of weight/height/head circumfrence/finger length/hear rate, intricately detailed descriptions of their first steps, their first words, their first solving of the quadratic equation? How do they do it? Is this what separates the good moms from the bad? A sign of whose children are destined for greatness versus those who are destined for therapy? Yes, I have been terribly remiss in logging each and every wonderful thing Stella has done and no, I have no clue where her baby book even IS right now. Maybe instead, we have reached a new era. An era where instead of photo albums we have books of photo CDs and in place of meticulously kept baby books we have…blogs! Could I just be stuck in the middle of a huge shift in the space-time continuum? One where old ways are converging with new ones? Is there a scientific term for this? Should I make one up?
Monthly Archives: April 2005
A girl, her cheese, her bathing suit bottoms and Michael.
“Gardening”
Looking under the invisible table.
The real reason people declare bankruptcy: magazine photo color matching.
Welp, we did it again. Another $40 another bunch of “holy pink!” paint samples. Luckily by the time we went back for the second round, the guy at the paint counter was kind enough to let me take some home to test — promising that if I was very careful and didn’t make a mess of the cans, he would let me return them. So, Country Redwood it is. More of a burgundy-ish than a red, but as we quickly figured out, redder somehow equaled pinker. And we aren’t really ready to spend our life savings finding that perfect cabinet color.
So on Friday night, dizzy from stain fumes, twisted upside down…and backwards….trying to cram stain into the back-top-inside corner of the vanity, I came to realization that having Peter paint our cabinets was probably one of the wisest corners we did not cut. The measly two cabinets in the bathroom will probably take us as long as it will Peter to do the entire kitchen. The thought of now having to apply and sand 2 to 3 coats of polyurethane to them makes us groan. Not that we are lazy or afraid of a good project, but with work and baby to maneuver around, we don’t exactly get to just throw ourselves into the project and not emerge until it is done. Ahhh, the old days.
Yes, Stella is still the cutest thing ever. She is still saying ‘alligator’ with about 16 too many syllables, has successfully mastered the E-I-E-I-O riff, and just received her first official bathing suit in the mail from her Auntie Celene. She is getting fairly proficient at her sign language as well. In most cases it has been an ‘adapted’ version that would make a bona-fide sign language speaker shriek (sorry, Celene), but it works nonetheless. A good example works like this:
Please.
In real sign language you rub your open-palmed right hand over your heart in a circular motion.
In Stella’s version you take your right hand and drag it from the left side of your chest to the right side of your chest as though you were wiping your hand of something wet and gooey.
All the while, saing “Beeee”. Ugh. We are so proud.