Sudden Milestone
After a rough night with “no crib” Kate, I posted her crib on Craigslist. We’re now sporting $150 and have a used toddler bed that Kate is spending her first night in.
Tomorrow, Paul will pick up another Craigslist toddler bed… with mattress, Spiderman quilt, sheet & pillowcase… for Will. We think that the character draw will entice him away from his super-comfy pillowtop double bed.
We may not have a tub, shower, sink, vanity, porch, or study together for my Mom and Aunt Linda while they watch the kids while we’re away… but both of them will get their own beds!
And Will and Kate get to share a room for a little longer…
The Recap.
The last three weeks.
We had a week-long visit from:
Nana. Who brought presents, time, patience, and recipes. The day she left, Kate wandered around calling “Naaaaa-Naaaah, Where ARE youuuuuuu?” (Subtext: “Save me from these crazy people!”)
Having a third adult in the house was a huge relief. It was also well-timed, because the day she left and returned us to a house of two adults, we downloaded a child.
He was thrilled to be spending almost a week away from home, his parents, and his particularly his sister. In Will’s words: “Mommy, I needed a break from that crazy girl. She’s too much for me.” 
I dropped Will off with my Mom in Gulfport (our half-way meeting place) and he joined Granna and PapPap on a trip to visit my brother and sister-in-law. (My incredible sister-in-law, who by all accounts spent 5 hours a day on the floor re-reading the same books and cards so patiently to the-ever-curious-Will, has posted adorable photos from the trip.)
While Will was away from home for the longest time ever, Paul turned 38 on May 5th. This is remarkable only because I told at least 3 people that he was turning 36. I also wrote that I was 30 on a doctor’s form a few months ago and only realized the mistake because “date of birth” and “today’s date” were close enough together to make me do the math. I’m not forgetting little things, I’m actually forgetting years. It must mean that it’s time for us to have some sort of life crisis.
Also on Cinco de Mayo, our friends Alex and Dawit were married. (The wedding date was chosen because it’s Alex’s birthday, too.) In between a day of picking up tiles, switching cars, dropping off kids, and buying paint, I took photos of the event and you can see them here.
Meanwhile, back at the station, the house continues.
Drywall took a long time. There were delivery problems. Supply problems. And daily layers of drywall dust… dirty, gritty, drywall dust… ALL OVER the bedrooms and hallway each evening to mop, dust, polish, and wash off. And, we’re back to no washer and dryer. Still, the crew (comprised of a husband and wife) did a very good job.
Here’s the site of the future cat-door to Scout’s litter-box “room” under the washer and dryer.
Outside, Paul spent a good 20 hours on the roof over 2 days. It’s done, although these pictures show it as still-in-progress.
Now that it’s done, I’m thinking we may finally be able to remove the ever-present can of Goo Gone from our shower?
We discovered that Kate can work the garden hose. WATCH OUT.
Note that Will’s head is soaking wet. Coincidence with that last picture? I think not.
Kate also discovered an obsessive love of ice. Workers (read: Daddy) must carefully guard their precious cups ice water, lest it be plundered by the Sweet Pea with the dirty hands.
Also: Kate loves Crabby Jack. Oysters. Shrimp. And duck. (Domilise’s for Roast Beef, though, of course.)
Kate turned 2 and got presents. Including ELMO UNDERWEAR from Gwen & Co. Here she is, putting on Every Single Pair.
And dancing.
My Fellowship Year officially began with our Orientation Retreat. At first it was going to be an overnight event, but it was shortened to a Really Long Day in Baton Rouge. Who knew the LSU campus was so darn pretty??? The group is inspiring and interesting; I left the day feeling an unexpected excitement for the coming year. We did a variety of team-building exercises, including ropes. I surprised myself by having fun, and realizing that my recently-developed fear of heights is more extreme than I thought. I was Very Impressed with the folks that climbed the 60 foot pole, stood up, and jumped for the trapeze. Here’s Jonathan, the only one to touch the bar, in one of my favorite pictures from the day:
This one of Kemi is probably my favorite:
Meanwhile, back at the station, drywall finished. Tile started.
Tomorrow, the base of the washer/dryer platform will be grouted and trimmed… so we’re hoping to have these back by Wednesday?
Paul ALMOST finished the plumbing today while I wrangled kids and house. The tub plumbing is hooked up and tested perfectly. The ONE LEAK in his intricate shower plumbing? It wasn’t from a failed joint… it was a failed PIPE.
The darn elbow had a crack and hole. When Paul went to Lowe’s to get another elbow, he came home with the wrong kind. When he went back to trade, they were closed. As was Home Depot. Plumbing to Paul is like Cryptonite to Superman. Utterly defeated and forced to wait until the morning… because, after all, tomorrow is another day.
Training and Education
McCain feels that women don’t need Fair Pay, they need “training and education.”
I have a fantasy where his office is swamped — a-la Harry Potter and letters from Hogwarts — with resumes from thousands of well trained and educated women.
Help make this picture-perfect image a reality by signing up and sending here.
And while you’re riding the activism wave, go on over here and tell the APA that naming Kenneth Zucker (yup, the maniac from the recent NPR series) to the position of Chair of the Sexual and Gender Identity Disorders on the DSM-V Committee was a Really Bad Move. (h/t: GG)
Mother’s Day is… June 22.
There is no holiday more important to me than Mother’s Day. Forget me any and everyday of the year and it’s alright … Birthdays? we stopped celebrating those when I was a teenager. Christmas? too commercialized and consumer-driven. Easter? Thanksgiving? Labor Day? Nope, those are all working holidays for Moms.
But this year, Mother’s Day falls at just the Wrong Time. The day after my all-day Fellow’s retreat and 6 days before Paul and I leave for Peru. We are overwhelmed between renovation progress, our 4 (5?) combined jobs, the kids, preparing course materials, and getting ourselves ready to leave at the end of the week. I have a two page long “to-do” list and nowhere on that list are there things that deal with packing (do we even have luggage?), trip preparation (should we start taking our anti-malarials?), or personal concerns (it’s been 5 months since your last haircut, maybe a trim wouldn’t hurt?).
So, we rescheduled Mother’s Day. Granted — Paul STILL managed to make magic happen by getting Will to wake me up with sweet kisses and “Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy” whispered into my ear. I opened my eyes to both kids holding up drawings they’d made for me. Paul also took to the kitchen again to make my favorite egg-in-toast this morning (after I had already fed and dressed the kids, but hey) and even took the kids to Whole Foods the day before where they picked out beautiful hydrangea blossoms for me to enjoy. These are definitely the makings of a good Mother’s Day… but I’m holding out for a true day of rest and relaxation.
This is following a pattern of the last few weeks, which have held several notable days of import: including my own Mother’s birthday (April 29th) and dear husband’s birthday (May 5th). I did manage to call my Mom the day after her birthday AND arranged a babysitter last minute to take Paul out for a free birthday steak at O’Henry’s (he’s been craving steak — when you fall off the vegetarian wagon, you fall hard) — so it’s not like nothing happened for these events, but still. One wants to have some time to dedicate a bit of thought and effort into these noteworthy milestones. This spring, our house is all about the rain check.
Happy Birthday, BabyCakes
When you were born, I made one specific request: “Please, Kate, don’t grow as fast as your brother. I need to stay little just a little bit longer…” Apparently, doing what you’re told has not exactly been a strong suit. Good thing you’re cute.
Fresh out:
Two weeks (Will is 2 1/2):
Four months:
(with Will, almost 3):
7 months:
12 months:
15 months:
17 months:
18 months:
23 months:
To Kate, who, exactly two years ago, I was in mortal agony over
Really, we were in mortal agony; I may have been fighting through scarring with “contractions from hell,” but you were swallowing your own poop. Even before you were born, you were fighting through filth, beating the odds. What can I say? It means you’re totally my girl.
Lately, I’ve been reading up on 24 month milestones. The American Academy of Pediatrics says that you should be climbing off of furniture independently, walking up and down stairs with support, scribble, use simple phrases, imitate others, play make-believe, and show defiant behavior. Based on this information, I feel I can reasonably assume that what everyone is saying is true: you’re way ahead of the game. You crawled at five months. You walked at nine months. You’ve been speaking in sentences for months. At this rate, you may finish your dissertation before I finish mine.
As for your dissertation, maybe it will be on fashion? You’ve got a real flare for trend-setting. Hats for warmth? Nah, it’s all about fashion. Who cares if it’s 80 degrees? It still might snow.
Your Nana was in town for a week, two weeks ago (this shows that your rapid development is a direct threat to my regular blogging). Her professional (and only partially biased) insight is what really drove it home, “being with Kate is just like being with any 2-year old… until you realize that she is not 2.”
Your fierce independence is starting to mess with our household set-up. You still don’t consistently sleep through the night, and we’ve run into problems with putting you back in your crib. Like the other night, when you popped out your Abby from a solid sleep to clearly tell your father: “DADDY, NO BACK IN CRIB.” Since then, getting you to sleep in your crib is a major challenge. You slept on Will’s bed three nights in a row while he spent a week with Granna and PapPap’s at Uncle Skip and Aunt Emily’s (his first trip with the grandparents and longest time ever away from Mom). The last two nights, you’ve been sleeping soundly in a twin bed at the apartment downtown. You’re ALMOST 2 and have made it clear you’re done with being fenced in. You’ve also made strides in potty training, something else which you have begun without warning, by your own choice, with your own rules. As with most things, we’ve decided that the best course of action is to let you control the situation. The last thing we want is for you to realize that you could make some serious power plays in your pottying.
Our plan was to start after we got back from Peru. Your plan was to be potty trained before swim season, and you’re doing a great job of getting there. The biggest issue? You lose patience on the pot… sometimes before you’re finished. We’ve tried to encourage you to bring reading material to keep you on the pot longer. It doesn’t work for long.
You and Will are forever locked in battle. You cannot be in the same room without touching each other, and any contact results in a complete attack. My Grandmother had a phrase in Ukrainian, “From Laughter to Tears” which accurately describes every 5 minutes between you and Will. This has brought a new phase in our household: you and Will cannot be compelled to do anything unless your father or I have a conniption fit. I actually think that time outs, forced separation, and injuries bring comfort to you both: you cannot go to bed each night without at least a dozen or so of each of the above. It must bring a necessary order and balance to your lives. Also, it whittles away at my sanity, which is probably your main intent.
You had a full conversation on the phone tonight with your PapPap. You told him about your “ow-ee” which you got about a month ago when your friend Anya pushed you on the porch at school. You tell everyone about your ow-ee, which is now a scar so faint that one has to remember the injury in order to realize that there ever was an ow-ee in that spot. You also told him about the shoes by the door (the ones that were covered in debris and dust and I painstakingly washing and cleaned), about your dinner, and about Will. You may have also told him the winning lotto numbers for tonight, we can’t be sure, because we’re still reaching to figure out all of what you say. You’ve got an awful lot coming out, but we’re lucky to catch half.
We are so thrilled with every moment with you. I am so worried about our coming trip… how will I manage three weeks away from you? Maybe a more important question is how are your Granna and Aunt Linda going to handle caring for you? They cannot be prepared for the cuteness that awaits them. I’m telling you right now: if we come back and there is a pony in the yard, I don’t care who gave it to you… it’s not staying.
Happy Birthday, Baby Kate! We are so proud of you!
The Plan.
The pros who have been in have lavished praise on our planning and design. When asked about our plans, we sort of smirk and point to this, which until today was hanging from a stud by the kids’ bedroom door:
Behold, The Plan. Click for large view.
That’s it. We don’t even have it in file form… just this rendering I did with free software from the ‘net. It was the best thing we came up with after years of thinking about what we would do, and months of sketches and moving scale cut-outs of tubs and sinks on graph paper over coffee. We have done everything based on this sketch.
The existing house is to the left — the bottom door leads to our bedroom from the bathroom and the top left door leads to the kids’ room. The top right room is the porch/family room. The bottom room is what we are calling the study, although we designed it with the proper window type and closet to be called a 4th bedroom if necessary.
*** I should add that because of the small square footage of our house and addition (total under 2500 square feet) and one-story build, we only required a site survey/foundation plan and basic drawings. We joke that this is the “shot-gun double exemption” because most renovation plans require approved architectural plans. (Although if you’ve seen the ugly monster being built at the corner of Laurel and Arabella, one wonders how or who approves these designs in our historic neighborhoods.)
Dusty Dusty Drywall
Look! A ceiling in the study!
Will plays with the air filter… it is boldly attempting to mitigate some of the white dust filling our bedrooms through the cracked doors.
But what is this? A ROOM???
(The study, below… looking in to the large closet in the back.)
Looking toward the laundry room. Walls! Walls! Hooray for walls!
Storage nook for mini-fridge and shelves in the porch/family room.
Looking from the porch/family room through the laundry room to the door leading to the kids’ bedroom…
Jazz Fest Blues.
Are there no Andouille Calas with Green Onion Sauce at Jazz Fest this year?? We missed them on Friday and I cannot find anything about them in Off Beat for next weekend. I scoured Food Area One for a good half hour, loosing our window for the Cochon po’ boys before the line got unbearable. In other words: it was a truly dedicated search.
Seriously, it is easier to wait and have them once a year at Jazz Fest then it is to get a babysitter and have dinner in Kenner. Plus, it makes it much harder to enjoy Rosemint Tea, Cochon de Lait po’boys, and Fried Eggplant with Crawfish Sauce without knowing that I can have Calas before and after.
