That Nora Girl

signs

2010-12-03T21:55:00.004-05:00

I am happily pet-free at this time, and with the crushing loss of two family dogs over the summer I plan to stay that way for a while.

We live in an apartment, I love not dealing with pet hair, and I have my hands full keeping up with my crazy three-and-a-half-year-old and getting my own hair washed. Pets are not for me right now, although I have loved and lost and my heart is kind of too tender right now emotionally to take care of a pet.

I lost my sweet Betta fish just three days before Liam was born, and I had watched the little thing suffer for a while before Gabe euthanized him for me, and it still hurts.

Liam loves animals, and I support his interest by talking about different species, reading about them, pretending to be them and slowly adding to his collection of animal toys. In fact, he has a set of felt animal finger puppets and we've gotten into the habit of, every time we play with them, they talk in either deep deep or high-pitched voices back and forth about where they live and what they eat. He knows we don't eat animals and we occasionally talk about the horses and pigs we'll keep for pets on our future farm.

Today while waiting for a set of prints at the Walmart photo lab, I tried to make a beeline past the pet food aisles, holding my breath as usual. I think one of the most disgusting things on this planet is the smell of hundreds of square feet of pet food.

But I was distracted by the new tanks of fish, which are cleaner and less jammed full of little fishes than the previous pet section Walmart tanks. I stopped and peered through the glass with Liam, pointing out bright colors, long fins and bulgy eyes. And then I saw them.

The fiddler crabs.

The cute little fiddler crabs with their asymmetrical claws and sideways underwater shuffle. I don't know why it happened but my heart grew three times in size. (You can call me the Pet Grinch.) I told Liam I want to have pet fiddler crabs with him someday. I told Gabe about it when he got home. I had fiddler crabs on the brain, which was weird because I am so anti-pet lately.

And then? You guys! Wonder Pets came on and it was the freaking Fiddler Crab on the Roof episode!

It's a sign! I'm destined for fiddler crabs, OBVIOUSLY.

shimmer

2010-12-02T21:47:00.000-05:00

To fill you in on the past 2+ months, I'll just tell you something cute Liam said tonight.

He was lying in bed and I told him good night, I hope he sleeps well. He shivered, clenched his fists and said, "Shimmer me timbers!"

Then, after our official good nights were said he turned over, squeezed my hand and whispered, "I love you."

paths colliding

2010-09-27T21:20:00.007-04:00

I just had a pretty exciting weekend, and my weekends are full for all of October- I am actually using a planner to keep it all straight. This is totally exciting since I am a stay-at-home mom sharing her car with her husband in a city that is not incredibly pedestrian-friendly.

There was the Yo Gabba Gabba Live show, a fun day spent in Portland with my dudes, a marching band show, the season premier of Dexter! and all kinds of awesomeness, to be followed up by playground playdates, pumpkin carving and Halloween parties, apple picking with a new friend, the Fryeburg Fair, etc etc etc.

(So far this autumn is amazing.)

Yet, YET, among all this awesomeness I half-witnessed something that was greatly disturbing and that will always stick in my mind when I recall this weekend.

I saw a bicyclist get hit by a car in the Old Port.

**cue stomach churning**

Before I tell the story I'll first say that no one was hurt badly or killed.

Gabe, Liam and I had spent a couple hours on the East End, sitting in the grass first on the hill overlooking Casco Bay and then I chased after Liam while he explored dandelion puffs, rocks, dogs, and the scenery. He made a fast friend in an 18-month-old girl taking a walk with her dad. They followed each other, picked flowers for each other, took turns hopping and petting dogs. It was a gorgeous early autumn day in Portland- warm sun, cool breeze, puffy clouds. We headed closer to town for some ice cream and it was while we were walking down Commercial Street that we heard it.

It was a quick yell, echoing of surprise and distress, then a sickening plastic-crunching sound. I turned my head just in time to see a car screech to a halt and a bicycle flying into the air.

I froze, afraid to see A Body. You know, A Dead Body. I stood frozen in place in the sidewalk, a parked car blocking my view from the fallen bicyclist. My heart had stopped and my breath was stuck in my chest. One hand was holding Liam's, the other had traveled unknowingly to my mouth.

I couldn't move, couldn't look, afraid of seeing something I could not unsee.

Then, he popped up into the air. Literally. Like a jack-in-the-box, the bicyclist moved from the ground to his feet, unharmed. He shook it off. He held up his hands to show everyone, probably mostly the driver of the car, that he was ok. He checked out his bike, checked out the car, spoke calmly with the driver.

I almost threw up right there, partially because my mind was still in a dark place and partially from relief. Everyone in the immediate vicinity crowded around, wanting to help, and I just stood there until the ability to move returned to my frozen body.

Even though he was ok it took me a while to regain a regular breathing/ heartbeat pattern. I ate my ice cream in near-silence, staring at Liam's smooth face and the cleft in Gabe's chin. My cone was stale and the ice cream was too chocolatey. I watched the street through the shop window, wondering DID ANYONE KNOW? Did anyone else around there know that someone almost DIED on Commercial Street just five minutes prior? That you can't guarantee your own safety, your own little bubble of your silly little life?

Did anyone REALIZE??!

Now, three days later, I am able to NOT think about it. For the first day all I could see when my mind wandered was a bicycle flying into the air. I kept hearing that yell, and the sound of the bike hitting the car. I'm past that, back into the normal routine of my weekday life.

That doesn't mean I'm not saying a few extra prayers at night.

How did I get so weird?

2010-08-30T14:30:00.003-04:00

A few nights ago I had a dream that I was dating twins. They were tall, strong and beautiful blond men who were both crazy about me but I preferred the company of one over the other. The one I liked less wrote me a letter inside of an old children's story book about why I should choose him; his brother found it and scrawled his own rebuttals into it.

Note to self: don't date twins because even in my dreams, it's complicated.

soy sauce

2010-08-01T20:29:00.003-04:00

The summer I graduated from high school I got a job as a waitress in a Chinese restaurant- "the best buffet in town," the customers always said.

I was 18 and hadn't had many jobs at that point. I filled out the application and less than a week later someone called me and asked if I could start work that day. No interview, no mental preparation, just, "WHEN CAN YOU COME IN, PLEASE HELP US!" Kind of like that.

And my training was just as thorough as the interview process. "Here, take a quick look at the menu and then watch this one girl take one table's order, then you're on your own, one two three GO!"

I got the hang of it, I made pretty good tips and my co-workers, all gravelly-voiced waitressing vets, loved me. They'd stick up for me when the owner or manager got mean or if the cooks yelled random syllables at me if they didn't understand my order slip.

There was this one cook who was closer to me in age and smiled at me a lot. You know, uncomfortably a lot. He'd try to corner me at the tea machine or the time card puncher to flirt with me, but here's the thing! He barely spoke English and it would take him several tries to communicate to me that he thought I was cute, or wanted my number, or was asking me where I was going at the end of the summer. And you know how when two people who speak different languages don't understand each other, they just talk louder and try a stab at useless hand gestures? It was really awkward- so much yelling and flailing while I just stood there with a smile/grimace.

One time he was asking me to go see a movie with him but with his ineffectual English and thick accent he actually said, "I'd like to see your boobies!" instead of "I'd like to see a movie with you." I almost died.

The only woman who worked in the kitchen was the dishwasher, named Ho. As you might imagine, the name Ho does not go over well with uncultured Americans so someone decided to call her Princess, which I thought was ridiculous. She had to be in her 30s. Anyway, she did not speak any English. Not a word. Her husband was one of the cooks and did some translating for her if the waitresses were loading the counter the wrong way.

One day he caught me by the arm and said, "My wife think you are beautiful!" I turned to her, where she was smiling at me from behind her counter and she gave a timid wave. "Thank you!" I said to her, and her husband proceeded to say, "I think you are too. Very pretty." He gestured to his face, meaning my face. "Very beautiful!" He patted my cheek. And that was a little awkward too, because he started telling me this every time I came into the kitchen. "Very pretty!" Pat, pat.

This was TEN YEARS AGO, kids. I just ran into this guy at Walmart the other day, which has happened a few times but if I see him in advance I can steer my cart away before he sees me. This time he saw me first. He threw up his hands, said "Ahhhhh!" and tried to cup my face but I managed to lean back. He gave me some of the loud talking and flailing, asking me about Liam and if I was married, which has happened every time I see him. He just stands too close and stares too much and rubs my arms, STILL! Like he recognizes me ten years later because I'm That Girl Who Lets Him Get Away With This Shit. Liam always gives him the stink eye and leans away from him too, which he does to everyone in public who has no concept of personal space.

As usual I, too, leaned away, wishing Gabe was with me, and I asked him about his wife. This seems to break him of his trance. He gestured that she was elsewhere in the store with her kids and I said, "Ok, gotta go, see ya!"

Just a few minutes later I passed him and his wife and kids, and he saw me again, like Nora Radar. Again he threw his hands up and said, "Ahhhh!" And he tried to touch my face YET AGAIN but I ducked. I said hello to his wife and she fawned over Liam for a few moments and she patted me on the shoulder.

I walked away feeling conflicted- I'm not trying to be a douche about non-English speakers but I would not mind it if that man could possibly interact with me without touching my face. Ho, a.k.a. Princess, was one of the best things about working at that restaurant so many years ago because of her smile and how excited she'd get about trying to talk to us waitresses. Her husband, however, constantly reaching out for me and telling me I'm pretty, still makes me cringe.

The other night I was mixing up a concoction to attract and trap some pesky bugs in my garden, and the mixture contained soy sauce. Almost every time I cook with soy sauce I toss a splash into a hot pan of garbanzo beans, so it's been a long time since I've smelled it all by itself. The aroma of the two tablespoons I measured into a bowl for the garden really struck straight up my nose and it nauseated me.

It brought me right back to the slow summer afternoons when I'd be cleaning and refilling the little soy sauce bottles at the waitress station- and I'd hear the kitchen door creak open, see arms flail from the corner of my eye, and I'd hear "Ahhhhh!" and feel him squeeze my shoulders, pat my forearm and eventually go for my face.

There has GOT to be a better way to say hello.

harvest

2010-07-07T22:29:00.000-04:00

From my very own garden, early July 2010.

The scream to prove to everyone that I exist

2010-06-26T20:14:00.006-04:00

Hey, so you know how I like Frightened Rabbit? Like, a lot? A lot, A lot? Well they came to Boston in April! Since they are one of the two bands I vowed to go see even in Boston if that's the closest they came, I headed down by myself to see the magic.

So, I was pretty close on the side of the stage, but I haven't mastered my camera yet. Let's pretend that instead of blurry, these photos are artsy.

They were amazing. There's no other word. They blew me away and they changed my life. I mean that.

Yes, that's a pretty halo right 'round Scott Hutchison's head and that's because he's kind of angelic. And yes, I mean that too, just not in the conventional angel kind of way. They were all glowing with something I can only think to describe as kindness or purity. Something really special, and I know that sounds cheesy, but these guys... I mean, have you HEARD them?

There was an epic sing-and-clap-along at the end of "The Loneliness and the Scream." Do you know the song? If so, you'll know which part I mean. It was one of many moments during the show that gave me chills. (If you don't know the song, you can hear it below- pay attention at 2:40.)

It makes you want to sing WHOA-OH-OH and clap like crazy, right???

It took me a very long time to get home because I may have gotten lost trying to get out of Boston, then it took me forever to find something to eat on the way home. For the 4+ hour stretch I was blasting Frightened Rabbit on my car stereo and singing at the top of my lungs. The early, early mornings in Maine are foggy so the moon and rising sun and skyline of trees were hazy, whispering, nodding.

It was all so pure.

eyes in the back of my head

2010-06-23T19:43:00.000-04:00

So, I have a stat counter on this here blog (statcounter.com) and sometimes it's really interesting or funny to see the search words and phrases that direct readers/browsers to this page.

Other times IT'S TOTALLY FREAKING WEIRD and makes me cringe. Fortunately many of the people with, um, unique searches don't stay long to actually read.

They're obviously in the wrong place.

The internet is so weird.

Three years in a blink.

2010-06-15T14:24:00.002-04:00

On June 6, my little babycakes turned three years old.

THREE! YEARS! OLD!

Here is a photo of the three of us first thing on his birthday morning. Sleepy and excited.

His party was a week later- the Wild Things party he's been talking about for almost a year. I made a banner and giant character illustrations, and a cake that looked like Max that Liam specifically requested. The party guests (well, the kids) made a Wild Thing craft that I forgot to get pictures of! But when I read Where the Wild Things Are to everyone, the kids were so cute and involved in the story, roaring back at me and showing their terrible claws. It was such a great birthday party.

Liam's been telling me all of the things he can do now that he's three years old, like drinking soda, driving cars and motorcycles, and drinking coffee.

Not quite yet, baby.

*I am having trouble with sizing... please forgive the slight cutoffs on the right sides of the photos. The banner, in full, says, "I love you so."

The List

2010-06-02T21:36:00.005-04:00

Dear Reader(s?),

I'm going to talk about a potentially controversial subject that I've seen bitchy internet cat-fights over (because what else are BabyCenter message boards good for? You know, aside from trying to vent/learn/teach about our lives as moms? That's right- bitchy internet cat-fights.) and I want to say this is THEORETICAL. This is something some couples think about for fun because we're human, have senses of humor, and it's NOT. REAL.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen. I am talking about The List.

You know. The List of celebrity crushes you'd make it with if ever given the chance. Free pass. And your spouse can't get mad at you for it because of The List. And since Gabe and I have an overly exceptional level of comfort with each other and we have EYEBALLS that recognize the attractiveness in other human beings, our lists are no secret to each other.

And yet! The world still turns! We are still a strong couple! We are not heading straight for divorce because we joke about celebrity crushes!

Plus. You know? I would think it's totally weird if Scarlett Johansson showed up, hit on Gabe and he didn't take the chance. I mean, I would. She's hot.

So here, readers, is My List.
(Please note, I borrowed all of these photos from the internet.)

1. JOHN KRASINSKI

This is no secret to anyone who has ever read my blog in the past. I'm a John Krasinski lover, maybe a little bit too much, and watching him on screen makes me giggle.
YOU KNOW HIM FROM: The Office, duh.

2. JAMES McAVOY

At first when I saw him as a faun in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe I was like "WHO IS THAT ADORABLE FAUN, oooh and he plays a cute little flute!" I felt a little weird for being attracted to a half-man/half-goat and then I reconciled myself over the fact that it was James McAvoy, and it was ok.
YOU KNOW HIM FROM: Atonement, Wanted, The Last King of Scotland

3. PETER SARSGAARD

During a conversation five or so years ago when Gabe and I were talking about The List, I removed someone and added Mr. Sarsgaard. Then this happened...
GABE: Peter Sarsgaard? You think he's cute?
NORA: Cute? No! Are you kidding me?? He is smoldering.
(...And that's how I feel about Peter Sarsgaard.)
YOU KNOW HIM FROM: Garden State, Kinsey, An Education

4. MARK DUPLASS

Mark Duplass is a fairly recent addition to My List, and it's based mostly on his role in The Puffy Chair, which you should watch. He seems like he'd be comfortable to hang out with and listen to music. Yes, I definitely make random stuff up like that about people I've never met.
YOU KNOW HIM FROM: The Puffy Chair, Humpday, Hannah Takes the Stairs
(He's currently starring in USA's The League and he used to be in the band Volcano, I'm Still Excited)

5. MICHAEL C. HALL

He is the newest member of My List since I started watching Dexter a couple months ago. You know the opening credits where he pulls his t-shirt over his head and stares into the camera? (If not, you can see a photo here.) Holy shit. That's why he's on The List. That and the fact that he plays a serial killer who can be a little dopey when it comes to relationships, yet Dexter Morgan is still so likable.
YOU KNOW HIM FROM: Dexter, Six Feet Under

And now I want to hear all about Your List!

the end of May

2010-05-29T21:01:00.006-04:00

I get really steamy-eyed and dreamy this time of year. It's the end of May. Three days in a row, for every year of my life as far back as I can remember, I recognize:

05/28: The anniversary of the death of my mum's best friend Karsten. She died when she and Mum were high school seniors so I never met her but there's always been a picture of her in Mum's house, and my older sister is named after her.
05/29: My Mum and Dad's wedding anniversary! Today marks thirty-four years. Amazing.

^ My parents in 1976.
05/30: My younger sister's birthday. I've talked about her here, about her death and her birth, which happened in that order.

This year I'm feeling nostalgic about my pregnancy since Liam is about to turn three years old. THREE! YEARS! OLD! I'm thinking about that big heavy belly I had, about the way I waddled, about the contractions I'd been having for weeks- about the fact I hadn't yet met my baby! And now he's almost three and he's... what are the words?... BEYOND AMAZING. Ridiculously cute.

Also, a luna moth appeared on our doorstep this morning and has spent the day there.

This moth means something, and it makes me smile.

au naturel

2010-05-28T23:08:00.004-04:00

A recent Dooce post (I know her name is Heather but I always refer to her as Dooce in my head) got me thinking about personal hygiene- particularly my own bathing habits.

And how you probably think I'm kind of dirty if you're the kind of person who showers a lot.

I've never really been a shower-every-day kind of person. I thought it was weird that my best friend in elementary school took a shower every day before she came to school- I mean, we were eight years old, you know? Pre-puberty, pre-body odor. The time before school was meant for eating breakfast, getting dressed and walking to the bus stop, but only after sleeping as late as possible.

In high school, I lived in an old farmhouse house that did not have a shower. There was a bath tub, but no shower. I took baths because that was my only option, and I hate baths. They are so boring and I feel like I'm sitting in a big pot of Nora Soup. (It was a novelty for me to sleep at a friend's house and use an actual shower. In fact, when I moved out at the age of twenty into my own apartment I once took two showers in one day JUST BECAUSE I COULD.) So in high school, because I would sleep until the very last possible second and because I hated sitting/stewing in the bath tub and because I was not an athlete that produced a lot of sweat, I took a bath every other day or so. Whenevs.

When I reached the end of my early twenties my body had taken great strides in maturing. FINALLY. My skin was less oily, therefore so was my hair. I didn't need to shower every day. Or every other day. So I didn't. I must have been a cat in a past life, or maybe I drowned, because I just don't like being wet unless I am swimming. (Which maybe means I didn't drown in a past life- I don't know. Maybe I was a deep sea diver, dry under my wet suit. Sure, that's it. Deep sea diver.)

Plus, my hair- man, my hair. It is so healthy. It's not actually good for your skin and hair to bathe every day. All that hot water, all that soap. It dries you out. I know it's the norm here in America to shower every day; Gabe cannot even function if he doesn't shower every morning because it helps wake him up and start with a clean slate. Me, I'm a European at heart, or as close to it as I can pretend since I'm only the eleventh person on my mum's side of the family to be born in the States instead of in France. My mum was the first. Oui, oui.

So that's my confession: I'm dirty by most standards. I do not shower every day. Well in the summer I'll have a stretch when I do, when it's the most humid- or when I have sand from the beach stuck in all my cracks and crevices. But when I can get away with it, I let my body do its thing. (Within reason because I do have a husband to share a bed with. You know. No one wants smelly armpits with their lovin'.)

And it's not gross. I have healthy skin and my hair is in pretty great condition. I use deodorant and WILL shower if stinky. Every other day works for me. I know I'm not alone (Hello, Dooce!) and there's been conversation among one of my birth clubs on Babycenter where I learned that many other moms of infants and toddlers skip the daily showers because, well, it's just not necessary.

As long as I'm not offended by the smell of my own body, I'd rather spend time building towers out of blocks, reading story books, going outside OR EVEN HOUSE CLEANING instead of wasting soap and water and feeling like a soaked, pissed-off cat in the rain.

How about you? Are you squeaky clean every day or are you a "dirty hippie"* like me?

*I've actually been called this. No offense to other dirty hippies.

How to know when you might be more interested in a kid's show than your kid is.

2010-05-19T10:32:00.002-04:00

This is a recent text message conversation between me and Gabe.

NORA: Yo gabba gabba is coming to portland, omggggg
GABE: Whaaaat
NORA: Im hyperventilating over here
GABE: When and how much!
NORA: Sept 24 and i cant find the price ahhhhhhh!

It is time to rock and roll.

"Give back to the soil to see what can come up from the spring."

2010-05-16T22:07:00.005-04:00

Here I am, in a photo that Gabe snapped a couple of days ago, expanding my garden with a pitchfork and a trowel.

It's a lot of work. Poking at the grass, lifting it in sections to separate the roots, shaking off the soil.

I really love growing things. I love my houseplants, and I loved my little and slightly unsuccessful garden last year. The process of preparing a patch of soil, dropping seeds in, and caring for the little sprouts to eventually pick and eat your own vegetables? Amazing.

The smell of the dirt is intoxicating. Finding bugs is exciting. I found the most magnificent worm the other day! He was long and shiny and I transferred him over to the compost pile, hoping he'd make a happy home there. Gabe, Liam and I watched him for a few minutes straight, captivated by the way he (she?) moved.

I'm expanding the garden so I can (in theory) grow more, and my dad is going to help me build a fence to keep out the small animals who stole my goods last year. Liam is just as emotionally involved in the garden as I am- yesterday he asked me repeatedly when we were going to head to the yard to "work the garden"- and he helps me in ways that he can, like moving little rocks and removing some of the dried grass and using his little hands to plant some seeds himself.

Having dirt all over my hands and watching things grow is downright spiritual to me. It's a gift. LIFE comes from the ground. We all have roots on the bottoms of our feet, sucking water and nourishment from the ground. Kneeling, hands in the soil, growing my own food with the help of my son- I feel like I am myself photosynthesizing and creating oxygen and growing deeper, thicker roots. I am sucking in the rain and soaking in the sun.

Living. Giving life.

And DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ABOUT MY COMPOST.

Ambien, take me away.

2010-05-15T20:02:00.005-04:00

I hardly slept last night.

As I was drifting off to almost-sleep shortly after midnight I was startled to full consciousness by the figure of a man standing in my room, which turned out to be the silhouette of the closet door.

Then Gabe woke me accidentally when he came to bed later. I slept, kind of, from around 2 am until 3:30 am when I woke up, too warm, shoulders sore, eyes burning from fatigue yet unable to keep them closed for long.

I tried sleeping on the couch. I tried that until around 7. I watched part of an infomercial about a magical melon from France that has immortalized Cindy Crawford's face until I found some Cosby re-runs. I dozed a few times between 7 and 8.

During one such doze, I had a dream that I can only attribute to the fact that I started watching Dexter a couple weeks ago and I'm already nearly done with season 3. There was an empty parking lot, a bank/car robbery, a getaway slowed by sleet on the roads, a ticket from and a sassy comment to a cop, a thrilling and liberating uphill jog (???), an illegal entry into a secure building- and then Dexter Morgan himself, ending some killer's life and then rescuing me from whatever I was running from.

Thank you, Mr. Morgan.

At 8, Liam tiptoed into the darkened living room and touched my shoulder and asked me if I was awake. I put my arms around him and he cuddled with me, resting his cool cheek against mine and we whispered our Good Mornings and I Love Yous to each other.

We kept busy today: a bike ride, a trip to the cemetery, a little shopping for art and gardening supplies (and I scored a new bedding set for $20!) and repotting some new house plants. I'm so tired I almost fell over while I was vacuuming. Literally, almost fell over.

I am currently unable to convince Gabe that some Ben & Jerry's will cure me (Strawberry Cheesecake? Coffee Heath Bar Crunch? Cherry Garcia? Yes, please.) and I don't want to risk passing out in the frozen food aisle at Walmart if I go myself, so I'm just going to go to bed early tonight and hope I can get to my garden work tomorrow.

And maybe dream about Dexter Morgan again. Woo woo!

moving on

2010-05-09T21:18:00.002-04:00

Instead of talking about the several weeks that have passed postlessly I'll talk about the present. Particularly, today. It's Mother's Day!

I am fortunate to be married to a man who knows that one of the best things he can give me for such an occasion is the gift of rest. I stayed in bed until almost ten this morning, and I later napped on the couch for a while. (He also gave me flowers earlier in the week that are still blooming brightly in the kitchen, and this weekend he gave me some things I needed for my garden.)

Most importantly today I am aware of the reason I celebrate Mother's Day for myself: Liam. He is almost three years old. He's about half my height (I'm 5'7" - I am not short) and already about half as smart as me. He just needs to learn to read and write, and he'll be a flippin' genius, I'm sure. He just stuns me daily, and even through the occasional whines and disobedience and sass, he's a smart and funny sweetheart who delights in cuddling, reading and making us laugh.

Recently Gabe and I were being goofy together (the kind of goofiness that is funny to us but no one else, because we've been together for a long time and we can be comfortable that way so I won't try to explain the whole context) and this happened:

ME: Obvi!
GABE: Totes!
LIAM: [from out of nowhere] URBAN OUTFITTERS!

One of my favorite things about Liam, though: he's a hand-holder.

Liam's been holding our hands since he was a newborn. Very early on he learned how to soothe himself by holding our fingers and rubbing the tips of his thumbs against our fingernails. He still does this; during quiet time as we cuddle on the couch, when he's sleepy in the car, when we're holding him at a store. It's come to soothe me and Gabe, too, that gentle friction that reminds us of when our rapidly growing boy WAS still a tiny baby. Even when he's not thumb-rubbing, he likes his hands to be in ours, as we take walks, or push the shopping cart, or simply move from the living room to the kitchen. His hands are so warm and soft and I want to eat them. The other day while we were having lunch at the table, he pushed his chair closer to mine, then reached over to hold my hand and continued eating wordlessly. The kicker? He linked his fingers through mine AND I DIED.

Liam's done a lot of changing in his time since birth, but I'm glad that holding our hands is not something he outgrew.

Happy Mother's Day to me.

happy

2010-03-24T20:08:00.004-04:00

I want you all to know, for those few of you who read this blog still, that I'm ok.

I'm more than ok.

I started the anti-depressant two months ago and I want to sing from the rooftops.

It's working.

I am just... better. In nearly every way. I'm the happier, more patient person I used to be and it works. I clean the house more, it's easier to eat healthy, I'm more physically active and I don't avoids social situations. My heart palpitations almost disappeared, along with my anxiety attacks.

I AM NORA McCOURTNEY-WOLF AND I AM HAPPY.

This probably all sounds cheesy AND YET it's just the truth, and I am happy to be happy.

In completely unrelated news, I frequently have this song stuck in my head.

It was really nice to listen today while Liam and I were in the kitchen, having a snack and watching the fat spring snowflakes fall.

Leslie Hall

2010-03-18T22:28:00.004-04:00

I discovered this video recently on some message boards and I cannot get the song out of my head.

Liam even sang it in the car the other night. He said, "Watch out for my body rolls, watch out for my body rolls. Tiiiiger, tiiiiiger, this is how we do it." (That's not really how the song goes, but since he saw tiger costumes in the video, he replaced "High kicks, high kicks" with "Tiiiiiger, tiiiiiger." To-may-to, To-mah-to.)

I haven't even watched the rest of Leslie Hall's videos (although I've seen her as a Dancey Dance friend on Yo Gabba Gabba) because I'm too busy watching this one. I think I'm sitting on a goldmine, so to speak, of entertainment and I look forward to when I have a couple hours to myself because instead of napping, cleaning, reading or writing letters I will be watching Leslie Hall on YouTube.

highlights

2010-03-08T21:13:00.004-05:00

Yeah, yeah I haven't been blogging AGAIN. Pfffft. Here are some items of note from my lately-life that are worthy of mention !!! but not individual blog posts.

1. I had a night to myself lately with Gabe out of the house and Liam sleeping soundly in the bedroom, so I watched instant-access movies on Netflix instead of doing anything productive. The Ugly Truth was offensively bad, and despite how sexy Gerard Butler was in that scene where he was dancing with Katherine Heigl, I'm stickin' to it.

2. Smiley Face was bad too, maybe because I'm not a stoner and it wasn't Pineapple Express. I have this habit of watching anything that John Krasinski was in BECAUSE I LOVE HIM but really... it's not the greatest plan.

3. I have recently acquired new shoes and a new TV stand, which excites me beyond reason and may actually result in blog posts devoted to them. Just wait till I get my steam cleaner. YOWZA!

4. Liam sings "Bohemian Rhapsody" and it's amazing.

5. Spring is springing early here in Maine and all I can think about is hiking and planting my garden and bodies of (unfrozen) water.

6. I got my ticket in the mail for the Frightened Rabbit show in Boston and their new CD is on its way to me. Add this to what I'm thinking about in #5.

7. I want to invent a time machine that is actually a diaper disposal can, like the way Diaper Genies are supposed to close away the smell of pee and poo laden diapers, but without making a toxic atmosphere inside the container that melts your eyebrows off when it's opened. Here's how it works: you put the dirty diaper in the Time Machine Diaper Pail (awesomer name to be announced soon), and time inside the pail turns backwards, the pee and poo gets stuck in the time-space continuum, and you get a fresh diaper all over again! I'm going to be a millionaire.

That's it for now, folks. Hold tight to hear about my new shoes and furniture!!!

itty bitty

2010-02-18T20:05:00.002-05:00

It seems I spoke too soon about my breasts. They're gone again. Back to my newer "normal." THANKS FOR NOTHING!

Take your latte and shove it.

2010-02-06T22:00:00.002-05:00

My friend Amanda is blogging again, and she wrote recently about her job at a coffee shop- more specifically, the strange coffee orders she receives.

It reminded me of when I worked in a cafe when I was 20. I was not a coffee drinker (outside of the very occasional cup at home, and sometimes a splurge on a Dunkin' Donuts Coolatta- but my body could not really handle caffeine then so I mostly avoided it) and I had to not only learn words like cappuccino, latte and espresso, I also had to learn their ingredients and how to make them. And serve them with confidence and not a look on my face that said, I don't know but this might be a cappalatto.

Before I was really ready for it, I was left alone in the cafe to fend for myself and work out any problems alone. One day this lady strides up to the counter and is the type of customer not to greet you or show any signs of friendliness.

ME: (smiling) Hi, how are you?
CUSTOMER: (looking at her cell phone) I want a tall skinny latte.
ME: (panicking in my head- WHAT THE FUDGE does that mean???) Ok. Is that for here or to go?
CUSTOMER: Ugh. To go.

I stepped away from the counter and looked at our to-go cups. The tallest ones were not skinny, and the skinniest ones were not tall. My only experience in a Starbucks up to that point in my life was ordering a tiny cup of four-dollar hot apple cider that tasted like apple juice with a dash of cinnamon. I had NO IDEA that "tall skinny latte" meant "small non-fat latte." I could MAKE a small non-fat latte, if you ASK for it like a normal person.

I went back to the counter and showed her the cups. "These are the only sizes we have." Of course, she looked at me like I was a flaming idiot and said, "So?" My face flushed and I stammered, "We- we don't really have any that are tall AND skinny."

She flailed her arms and shoved her phone back into her purse. "Tall means that small size and skinny means skim milk," she barked.

And that is why I still didn't step foot into a Starbucks for years to come.

night time perfection

2010-02-05T22:26:00.002-05:00

There is nothing like smooth, freshly-shaven legs between soft, freshly-washed sheets, and a comfortable sleepiness behind my eyes as I sink into bed and find the sweet spot on my pillow.

With a new anti-depressant in my system this week, I've had a couple recent nights of almost-adequate sleep. Tonight I'm trying a mug of lemon balm tea before bed, which is known to fight insomnia and sleeping difficulties.

I'm hoping for one of those magical nights where I sleep deeply, dream and fully rest.

Those nights are known to cause next-day productivity and alertness and motivation for me.

Pure magic.

resolutions

2010-01-26T23:22:00.005-05:00

I actually made New Year's Resolutions this year, something I normally avoid because I figure that if something in your life is important enough to do or change then you should just do it. Whether it's January 1 or April 22 or August 3. Just take charge and do that shit.

Which is funny since I am so laid back and not a take-charge kind of person. Suffice it to say there is little shit I have done and things happen at a pretty slow pace for me.

I like it that way.

But what with my depression swallowing me whole and with little accomplished outside of parenting in my lately-life, I decided to make myself a list, which I'll share with you because I'm sure it is very interesting to the world at large.

Mmm-hmm.

First, the serious stuff:
1. Call a damn doctor. I have already had a visit with an OB/GYN to speak about my lady business, and I have an appointment in place for later this week with a general practitioner to begin talks about my sleep (lack of it), depression and anxiety, and that night I thought my gallbladder or something was going to kill me. Now I just need to schedule with a dentist. Because having health insurance is pretty great.
2. Start and actually go through with a more rigorous at-home exercise plan to strengthen my body and increase my stamina. I can't wait for spring to arrive so I can get outside more and ride a bike. In the meantime I'll spazz out in my living room and play in the snow. Maybe ski and skate.
3. Make more art. Actually BE the artist I like to think of myself as, and make stuff! And sell it! And be so happy about it! (Two projects already underway because I'm awesommmmmme.)
4. Be a better housekeeper. Know where things are. Store things appropriately. Put the freaking laundry away when it's folded, not two weeks later.

I have also resolved some fun and silly/superficial things to make my 2010 to-do list more fun. Here we go:
1. Put clothes on. Clothes that are not jammies. I have found that when I put on some jeans and a bra, I have more motivation to get things done earlier in the day, and then that pumps me up because I see these results like a sparkly kitchen before noon. Maybe this belongs in the 'serious' category.
2. Wear heels. I don't have feet that were made for heels but I feel like if I wear them (lower, more reasonable ones) then I will feel fancy and if I feel fancy I will have more fun. I bought this super-cute pair of pumps at Payless and I cannot believe how comfortable they are, even on my feet. Sometimes I wear them while I cook dinner or wash dishes because, well, being two inches taller and having shoes that click the floor is fun.
3. Accept invitations to events where I can wear these heels. I already wore them on my date with Gabe for his birthday, and now I need weddings, gallery shows, museums, and parties to attend so that I have reason to wear them again.
4. Have more sex. Tee-hee-hee!
5. Go swimming at every possible opportunity this summer, and hike from spring through fall. Purchase and ride a bicycle regularly.
6. Get more familiar with Maine and all of its hidden gems I have yet to discover, and revisit the destinations of my youth.
7. Purchase sweet prints on Etsy (like this one and this one) and frame them to display in my home. Also print more photos of Liam and my life to frame and display. No more bare walls!
8. Step up my social life and that of my son so that we go less crazy. I already have some sweet activities lined up for us, events I am actually planning!, and I'm really excited.
9. Get rid of all of the underwear that does not fit me; more specifically, the underwear I've owned since before my pregnancy and then throughout it, resulting in an almost total loss of elasticity. I still wear this crap when I haven't done enough laundry. But I aim to get rid of them all and replace them with much cuter undies.

It's almost the end of January- have you made any resolutions? Have you already forgotten them? Have you had any successes so far?

golden nuggets

2010-01-25T22:28:00.004-05:00

For the past eighteen months, whenever Liam has had a doctor's appointment- be it a well baby visit or a sick visit- I've been told he has an awful lot of wax in his ears, to which I have always replied, "Is there anything I should be doing about that?" I was consistently told no, there's no safe way to irrigate the ear canal, and I was always like, so why are you telling me how waxy he is? and they're all blah blah blah and I'm like ?????? and they're like, have a nice day!

For at least a week, Liam has been tugging at and poking at one of his ears. It started just at nighttime before bed and I thought he was simply stalling because he doesn't like going to bed. More recently I'd ask him what's wrong and he'd say, "I'm fine." There was an absence of any other symptoms like coughing, congestion or a fever so I let it go until yesterday, when Liam was touching his ear all day and saying it hurt. I got him in to the doctor late this morning expecting some kind of stealth ear infection.

Once again, when the doctor peeked inside of Liam's ears I got the wax comment. This time it was, "Whoa! Got some wax?" I didn't even ask this time. I was just like whatever, at least I have a small co-pay for this visit. Then the doctor went on to say Liam has so much wax built up that it's all packed in and he can't even see his eardrum. So he used a little tool (I just tried Googling it to see if this tool has a name but I ended up with some gross earwax shots so I'll leave it at that) to dig a tunnel to check out the eardrum. The eardrum looked good- no infection!- but he gave me two options about the wax:

1) Buy an over-the-counter liquid to dry up the earwax
2) Flush out the wax in-office, same day

I chose number 2 for quicker results for Liam's relief. And HOLY MOLY. I cannot believe what came out of my son's ears!

There were several flecks of wax floating in the little cup that caught the water as it came out, plus a few pea-sized gobs of yellowy-black wax. The SIZE OF PEAS!

TWO OR THREE OF THEM!

!!!!!!!

It was so gross and fascinating. I didn't even know there was ROOM for that much wax inside of Liam's cute little ears.

It was not a comfortable procedure for Liam; I held him close to me and he quivered and cried but he was so good and did not try to get away. Almost as soon as it was over he looked at me and said, "Mumma, I feel better already!" This evening as I was tucking him into bed, after I read him a few stories he told me his favorite part of the day was going to the doctor and fixing his ear.

From now on I'll be dropping peroxide into Liam's ears weekly to prevent the future need for wax-flushing. Most importantly, I don't want Liam in that kind of pain and discomfort again if it's something I can prevent.

Also, I cannot get the image of those wax nuggets OUT OF MY HEAD!

Welcome back, girls. And by girls I mean my breasts.

2010-01-24T21:26:00.004-05:00

I haven't been on birth control in over three years. There are reasons why, but they're kind of accidental reasons so they are boring and do not matter. But I decided to go on birth control again because I thought it'd be nice to have clear skin for the second time in my life, and also be able to know when I should be expecting my period. Because every 20-32 days is not regular enough for me and my period was trying to kill me with pain and excessive blood loss.

(And by excessive I mean, you don't want to know how much blood was coming out of me.)

So today marks the start of my third week on a regular ol' birth control pill. In my first two weeks I gained five pounds, an insatiable appetite, less sleep but more fatigue and my boobs.

That's right. My boobs, who both went missing when my breastfeeding days were over. They are back.

They're sore from so much growth in such a short period of time, but they are currently sitting perkily upon my chest, pressing warmly against the inside of my bra, happy to be home.

And I'm just going to say it- I like having breasts that feel familiar again, no matter how superficial and shallow that sounds. I missed my breasts and I did not like what they'd been replaced by. This is not about sex or my husband (who loves them no matter what, thankyouverymuch) or pressures from society and media about how I should look. My breasts are a part of me and I just wanted to feel like myself again. (If, say, my eyes changed color or something happened that altered the shape of my lips, I'd be sad about that too.) I can't exercise myself into bigger breasts and I don't like the idea of having implants- so this side effect from the birth control is a very welcome change.

In (somewhat) related news last week I was helping Liam pick up his toys, and he caught a glimpse down my shirt as I bent over. Upon seeing my cleavage briefly he asked me, "Mumma, why you have a butt in your shirt?"

HEAR THAT? I HAVE CLEAVAGE AGAIN!

FEVER

2010-01-23T17:57:00.001-05:00

One of my oldest friends just had her first baby in December; a sweet little girl named Ava who I got to hold and she looked at me with wide blue eyes and gurgled at me and all I could do was gaze back and tell her how sweet and tiny and pretty she is.

Gabe's cousin and his wife just had their first baby a couple weeks ago; a sweet little girl named Lily. They live in Texas so we haven't met her yet but in her photos she's all soft and loved and beautiful.

My buddy Bridget just added a gorgeous baby girl to her family. Welcome, Ada! You and your brother are going to have so much fun. But get better soon, first!

Gabe's brother and his wife are expecting a baby girl in April; also their first. I already bought some clothes for my new niece (the very day I found out they are having a girl, in fact) and I'm just giddy with anticipation to meet her. I'm so excited for my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. What a beautiful family they'll make!

Feel my forehead, folks. That's baby fever. I'm afflicted.

Also spiking my temperature is that Gabe and I have begun talks to mayyyybe move up our "let's try to have another baby" plan by a couple years, which WHOA OMG DID I REALLY JUST SAY THAT?!!! Yes. Yes, I did. It's not going to happen right this second and we're still not sure when exactly we'll try to conceive but it's definitely not 4-6 years from now, which was the plan pretty much since I was pregnant with Liam.

I'm revamping my list of names, thinking about where to move next and will promptly enact a plan to get my body into some serious shape to help support a strong and healthy near-ish future pregnancy.

Pass the Tylenol please.

win/lose

2010-01-15T21:09:00.003-05:00

I woke up one morning last week to a wide-eyed Liam squeezing my nose and saying, "Wee-wee-wee nose! Wee-wee-wee nose!" And as I hugged and snuggled him and said good morning, he took my face in his hands and said, "You are my woman in the whole world."

(melt melt melt!)

Just a few days after that, we were in the check-out line together at Walmart, buying a cartload of groceries. I noticed a man staring at me from the bench nearby- the kind of staring that is intentional and creepy and uncomfortable. So I was trying to avoid eye contact, and I was chatting with Liam as I loaded grocery bags into our cart. Liam was playing with the big green buttons on the front of my coat, and then he pulled my coat aside and gave one of my breasts a good squeeze. You know, just for toddler fun. Creepy dude watched on.

(ack ack ack!)

You win some, you lose some.

Tiny changes

2010-01-11T23:23:00.002-05:00

Frightened Rabbit's Midnight Organ Fight (2008) is my new obsession, and that's a big deal. In the past couple years my interest in music has really tapered off and I just stick to the music I know and already like. I don't seek out new music and new bands like I used to. Here and there I'll hear a song I like but nothing really grabs my attention for long before I am back to listening to matt pond PA, David Bowie, Mozart and Neutral Milk Hotel on repeat.

I'm not even sure where I first heard of Frightened Rabbit, seeing as how the album is almost two years old now and I am late to the game. But I recently looked them up on MySpace to find out what they sound like, and I liked what I heard enough to ask for one of their albums for Christmas. (That's a big deal too since I haven't actually gone out and bought a new CD in ages. If memory serves me correctly the last time I slapped down some cash for a CD was in October of 2007 when I bought Last Light at the matt pond PA show in Dallas. I'm only twenty-eight and that's like an eternity, especially compared to my past music-buying rates.)

Gabe gave me a copy of Midnight Organ Fight for Christmas and I am officially, whole-heartedly SUCKED IN and I am showing no signs of shrugging and turning back to my old faves. These past couple weeks have been like embarking on a new relationship. Really exciting, heart-skipping, breathless. The songs consume my mind like I might think of a new lover in his or her absence-just wanting to be near again, wanting to nestle into those new warm arms, and trying not to giggle when we kiss.

It's actually a break-up album full of sadness and anger, heartbreak, brutality- yet there's something still so sensual, sexual, passionate and even hopeful about it. Scott Hutchison's voice will tear you to shreds and then stitch you up gently, ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

I've ordered their first album, Sing the Greys, from my local music store and am not-so-patiently waiting its arrival. I should be realistic, though, and know that I will only stop listening to Midnight Organ Fight when someone rips it from my cold, dead hands OR BETTER YET, when their new album comes out in March.

(That sound you just heard was the quiet thunder of my heart beating twice at the same time. Yes. The same time.)

I am hoping with a silent, obnoxious shriek that this Scottish band tours North America to support their new album. I'd go see them. Anywhere. I live in Maine and most touring bands I am interested in don't seem to want to come to Portland, so I used to travel frequently to Massachusetts and even Rhode Island to see bands I loved. Now that I love fewer bands, I am really only willing to leave Maine (I am older, have less income that can be used frivolously, chronically sleepy, etc) for one band. Now it's two. TWO BANDS! Frightened Rabbit has changed my life!

This is serious.

*

From their upcoming album, The Winter of Mixed Drinks:

overthinking it

2009-12-05T18:43:00.002-05:00

I really hate the children's show Max and Ruby. It's awful and the characters are annoying and no matter what Nick Jr. tells me about it supporting "problem solving skills" ~~and "how to be the most obnoxious you can,"~~ I'm not buying it. It's useless to me and I don't let Liam watch it very often. Usually if it's on, it's because I didn't change the channel fast enough or I turned the TV on and there it was, or Gabe put it on because he forgot about my No-Max-and-Ruby rule.

Here's the way I see it. I don't know how old Max is supposed to be but given how complicated and mature his noisy toys are, he's old enough to speak more than one word at a time and to follow Ruby's simple directions. The reason he is so ill-behaved is because he's being raised by his stupid bunny sister. Ruby is spread thin, between gardening and Bunny Scouts and band practice and school (I assume she goes to school but without parents around, who knows? She might spend some of days growing weed in the attic or playing violent video games or posting inappropriate pics of herself on the internet.)

OF COURSE Max doesn't listen to her. She's his sister, not his mom, and he knows that. OF COURSE Ruby is so particular and and impatient. Her little brother is a little brat and not only does she carry the burden of gardening and Bunny Scouts and band practice, she also has to cook for, bathe, discipline, educate and put her pesky little brother to bed. Those are not jobs for a sister, unless you're a Duggar. She should be allowed to be a child.

And why hasn't their grandmother called CPS yet??? Or taken them into her home- seriously?

thankful: Gabe and Liam

2009-11-26T22:12:00.003-05:00

I am thankful for these two guys.

I am thankful to be married to a man with an open heart and an open mind, who still likes to cuddle on the couch and spoon while we're sleeping and who tells me he loves me several times a day. He happily plays and wrestles and builds towers and castles and highways with his son and he takes care of the bathtime and bedtime routines. He's helping to raise our son to love and understand and learn, to be strong and kind and funny. He makes me laugh and laughs at me even when I'm being a silly dork. He doesn't get mad when the movies I choose from Netflix are completely lame. He buys me Coke when my stomach hurts. He runs his hand down the length of my hair and tells me I'm beautiful, even when I don't feel like I am. His arms are perfect for hugging and his lips are perfect for kissing and he likes to exercise these skills.

He's pretty hot, too.

I am thankful for my son, who gives me unsolicited hugs and kisses and who asks me if I feel better when he knows I have a headache. He tells me he loves me and asks me to read to him and wants to know everything about the world around him. He likes to cuddle and will sometimes just rub my arm or my knee while we are sitting quietly on the couch. He likes Queen and David Bowie and loves to dance and sing. He uses his imagination and finds magic everywhere. He likes my drawings and tries to draw like me. He likes to watch Full House and he tells me what happened on Wonder Pets if I have to leave the room. He eats hummus and veggies and fruit and cheese happily, and asks for his juice to be watered down when it's too sweet. He enjoys being outdoors and gets excited to learn new things about nature. He smiles for me and enjoys my company and makes me a lucky mom.

And he's totally cute!

Thank you, Gabe and Liam.

the grossness of being young

2009-11-12T18:54:00.001-05:00

Today, Liam picked a booger out of his nose and was so grossed out that he tried to put it back in.

Halloween

2009-11-11T21:22:00.005-05:00

So, I know it happened over a week ago, but here's my Halloween post.

For a while, it was decided that Liam would dress for Halloween as Max from Where the Wild Things Are. It's one of his favorite books, he loves the Scholastic video version, and it thrilled him to watch trailers from the recent Spike Jonze feature. He was also in love with the Arcade Fire song from one of the trailers, "Wake Up," and often requested it for kitchen dance parties. While hiking, he once asked me to walk like a Wild Thing, so together we put up our claws and stomped through the forest, growling and saying, "I'll eat you up, I love you so!"

I planned on making the wolf suit myself, which would have made me pretty much the awesomest mom ever.

Then, Liam changed his mind. He still loves Where the Wild Things Are, but he decided he wanted to be a pumpkin for Halloween. This was fine, since I kept his pumpkin costume from last year and it's a one-size-fits-all-toddlers kind of design. I took it out early to get him used to it so that he might actually wear it this year, and everything worked out fine.

(He did start asking, a couple days before Halloween, if he could be Scooby-Doo. It was also his request that I dress as Shaggy and Gabe dress as Daphne, but luckily for Gabe, it was too late to change costumes.)

We practiced our Halloween greeting: "Trick-or-treat, dude!" (he'll repeat almost everything if we add 'dude' to the end- we watch Full House and he digs toddler Michelle Tanner) with a thumbs up.

I made myself some cat ears out of construction paper, wore black and we were SET.

Liam was so excited about my ears. He kept pointing at them and saying, "You're a kitty! You have kitty ears! What does a kitty cat say? Meow, meow."

We trick-or-treated at my sister's and at her neighbor's house; then my aunt and uncle and a few of their neighbors; at the local mall; and at my parents' house. Liam's new favorite thing is trick-or-treating, so it's unfortunate that it only comes once a year. He was thrilled by other kids' costumes, walking around at night, wearing a costume with me, but mostly that the phrase we practiced was MAGIC CODE for GIVE ME CANDY PLEASE and he came out with a lot of loot for a two-year old.

While we were at my parents' house, Liam spilled a cup of water on his shirt and jeans, so while his clothes were in the dryer, my dad put one of his own sweatshirts on Liam. This was also thrilling for Liam, getting to wear his Grandpop's clothes. My dad's 6'2" so his shirt was more like a blanket, but Liam loved the coziness of it and curled up on my lap like a cuddlebug.

It was like having two costumes for the night!

I still love the idea of making a wolf suit for Liam, so I think I'll make him the hood and crown for Christmas. I'll still score major Mom Points, I think.

hold me close

2009-11-10T22:49:00.003-05:00

I'm having a hard time right now- not ever feeling rested and having a testy two-year-old whose internal clock does not recognize daylight savings, and Maine voting against marriage equality, and we have money troubles, and I hate hate hate my crooked teeth and nose, and I am dealing with some major annoyances from people in my life and I want to tell them to SHUT! UP! and I'm feeling disconnected and today I cried when Punjab saved Annie from falling off the bridge and...

And can you tell that depression is rearing its stupid, ugly, overemotional head?

Because it is.

And I have plans to have it taken care of- FINALLY- but it still sucks right now.

But tonight. Tonight I went into the kitchen for a few hours, three rooms removed from my husband and son, to work on some handmade projects to get ready for the Christmas season. And when it was getting to be Liam's bedtime I could hear him fussing as I punched holes and threaded string and drank root beer- remember that thing about daylight savings? I'm not joking. Bedtime is serious around here.

Gabe walked into the kitchen. He was carrying Liam, whose eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were flushed. I know that look. Overwhelming fatigue and fussiness. (I have it sometimes too.) "He wants a hug and a kiss from his Mama," Gabe told me.

So I took Liam in my arms. He's getting so tall and big. He wrapped his legs around my waist and draped his arms over my shoulders. We said goodnight and as I spoke softly to him, he pressed his hot cheek against mine, pushing, pushing, trying to be as close to me as possible. "Do you want me to sing you a song?" I asked. He tearfully said yes.

So I pressed my cheek into his and I rocked back and forth and softly sang a song I made up for him last year. When I was done, he just looked into my eyes and and blinked and pondered and then rested his head back on my shoulder.

In these days when I am flailing, not holding onto anything that feels real, I cry for no reason and I lack patience and I dislike myself. Simple things like washing dishes and putting laundry away and washing my hair are major triumphs.

But my son loves me very much and he needs me and finds comfort in my presence, so at least I know I am doing something right.

(And once I see a doctor about my depression, if things go as planned, I won't be overwhelmed by just waking up every day. And I'll be doing SO MANY THINGS right.)

(And Liam will still matter the most.)

five

2009-11-09T22:21:00.002-05:00

This is a list of five careers I would pursue if life was long enough, I had the capacity to learn it all and I was 18 again.

1. art teacher
2. marine biologist
3. sex counselor
4. nutritionist
5. obstetrician/ gynecologist

Not that I want to be 18 again, gawd.

Are there any career fields you yearn for that are not your reality?

YES

2009-11-06T18:10:00.000-05:00

Five years ago today, Gabe proposed to me in our kitchen.

The room was empty after we'd packed up everything we owned into a trailer attached to the back of his Bronco. I was crying and he was holding me because I'd just said goodbye to my parents and my younger brother. Gabe and I were about to move to Texas, and even though it was mostly my idea, I was feeling really sad about leaving my family and our cute little apartment and our beautiful port city.

Then he was telling me how much I mean to him, that he was thankful I was leaving this place I love in order to experience living in the place he grew up, and how he always wanted to be with me and do I know how much he loves me?

Then he was down on one knee asking me to marry him. And I cried more and said yes and we squeezed each other and giddily took a bunch of self-portraits that no one else will ever see because we were totally sick with colds, exhausted from packing up, and I was not wearing makeup and we looked a little like death.

The important part is that I said yes.

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

such positive press!

2009-11-05T13:58:00.001-05:00

I do love the Daily Show.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Can't Get Queer From Here

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show
Full Episodes

Political Humor

Health Care Crisis

Maine: the way life should be! Unless you're gay.

2009-11-04T14:42:00.003-05:00

As you've probably heard by now, civil rights were put on the ballot here in Maine for yesterday's election, and 53% of Mainers chose to repeal the law recognizing same-sex marriage that Governor Baldacci just signed in May.

a) The public should not be allowed to vote on civil rights. There is too much prejudice, and not enough education.

b) I have not heard a single argument against same-sex marriage that is logical. The campaign against marriage equality was won because of LIES, fear, religion, ignorance, homophobia and so-called "tradition."

c) I'm embarrassed and ashamed of 53% of my state right now. I know full well that Mainers are not generally seen as wordly, open-minded, educated people who accept and welcome diversity. Maine was set to shatter these stereotypes and make an example for other states to stop deciding what a family is in the eyes of the law. Today, we are still toothless lobster-cracking moose-hunting cousin-marrying banjo-pluckers. Ayuh!

d) This IS NOT OVER. Discrimination has to end, and it will end.

I have a lot more to say about this. I am disappointed, I am sad and I am on fire. So, right now I'm going to cool down and spend some time with my two-year-old son, who has more compassion and logic in the bottom half of his right leg than what a little more than half of the state has in their whole bodies.

home

2009-10-23T17:58:00.001-04:00

I am SO CLOSE to having our bedroom all unpacked and properly organized and livable, which is pretty awesome since we've been living here for a year and a half already.

I know, I can't believe it either.

This is the biggest apartment we've ever had, but it's also set up funny, since it was sectioned into an apartment out of an old farmhouse. I love this place, but it (and my landlords) can drive me nuts. NUTS, I SAY! With such little storage space, clutter is inevitable and never ending.

Give me another couple weeks and some more clear plastic storage bins, and this whole place could be top notch. I'm so tired of feeling like we're still in transition, but I'm getting closer to having a place I can be very proud of, that feels and looks like home. I'm thinking CHRISTMAS PARTY.

Does anyone have any tips on how to place wall hangings (picture frames, etc) without putting holes in the walls? My walls are so big and bare.

Reason #572 Why I Love My Husband

2009-10-20T17:58:00.002-04:00

Today at work, Gabe was pushing a cart full of files down the hallway to pass on to the next department, and he had propped open a set of doors because he had to make a couple trips. The doors are in a section of the hallway with a corner, but he wasn't rounding the corner; he was going to pass straight through the doors.

He stopped when he heard people coming towards him up the hallway, so that his cart and the women would not collide. The women didn't know he was there, but saw the doors propped open and one of them snipped, "Geez, that's dangerous, those doors being open like that."

Then they rounded the corner and Gabe smiled and said, "What's that?"

The woman tried to play it off like, Oh, I wasn't just being bitchy about something as insignificant as doors, fake-chuckled and said, "Oh, just the open doors being dangerous."

Gabe asked, "What's dangerous about it?"

"Well, if I wasn't paying attention, I could walk right into them," she said, like duh.

Gabe told her, "The dangerous part would be you not paying attention."

I love my husband.

*

Suck it, pink eye. (That sounds gross.)

2009-10-19T18:34:00.003-04:00

So, Liam's fever?

Pink eye.

Yes. Conjuncti-frickin'-vitis. Because he didn't JUST heal from surgery on both eyes and have to endure two weeks worth of eye drops and ointment.

Conjunctivitis.

He is inconsolably miserable. He still has a fever, can barely sleep, he has no appetite, he has a cough and runny nose, and he keeps telling me his eyes hurt. This is the sickest he's been so far in his life, and it sucks big time for all of us.

It's hard to watch your two-year-old child in so much pain and discomfort and know you can't do anything about it. I can help him wipe his nose, I can rub his back when he coughs, I can cuddle his when he's not burning up, and I can give him popsicles. I can administer Tylenol and his new prescription eye drops. I know that I'm doing what I can and that he knows it's not my fault or anything. But it's crap, not being able to DO anything, like wave a magic mommy-wand and make it all go away.

What I want to do is take it all away from him and deal with it myself. I'm an adult and I've been through that all before. I've had pink eye, scarlet fever, colds and flus, migraines, random and unexplained bouts of puking, sinus infections, pregnancy and childbirth and fourth-degree tearing, surgery, a urinary tract infection, strep throat, shingles. All of it and more. And maybe I'll get the pink eye again anyway because it's so contagious. I just want him to get over this NOW and we can move on because that sad, tired, helpless look in his bloodshot blue-gray eyes BREAKS MY HEART. And he keeps looking at me.

The worst is the eye drops. Do you know how you give eye drops to a strong and willful toddler who hates eye drops? You pin them down against all their strength and pry their eyes open, and they're crying and struggling the whole time, then they squint really hard as the medication spreads and stings across their eyeballs.

That's how. It's the worst.

Conjunctivitis can kiss my ass.

KISS. IT.

updates

2009-10-19T00:40:00.003-04:00

I was going to go back and do things right, and write up enough posts to fill in the big gaps and date them according to when I should have written them, but that's not going to happen.

It's 12:41 a.m. on a Monday, and Liam's been a little weird today (well, Sunday) and then sprung a fever and promptly went to sleep- and then woke up, blinked miserably on the couch for a couple hours, then got all goofy and hyper, and is now lying in bed with Gabe trying to fall back asleep.

That is what I can deal with right now, not months worth of blog posts.

Quick(ish) recap:
1. I got to Brooklyn and back safely even though the giant cargo van I was driving was incredibly difficult (needed an alignment) and intimidating. I didn't get to see a lot of New York, but I did see the Statue of Liberty in the distance as I was driving into the city and I shouted, "OH MY GOD THE STATUE OF LIBERTY!" even though I was driving alone.

2. Gabe's brother and his wife visited us from Texas for about a week in July, the week following my return from New York. Uncle Chase and Aunt Theresa are now high on the list of Liam's favorite people, and he still talks about them and their visit! We did have a great time and I loved having them here.

3. Another week or so after that, Gabe's mom Kay visited us for three weeks, and his sister Jules was here for two of those. Nana and Auntie Jules are also some of Liam's favorites and out of the blue he'll say things like, "Nana lives in Texas," and "Auntie Jules fly on plane."

4. Between those visits, we went to the beach a few times (ocean and lake), the New England Aquarium, the Maine Wildlife Park, a local farm, and the Old Port, and also dedicated Liam at the East End Beach in Portland.

5. During Kay and Jules' visit, Gabe and I celebrated our third year of marriage! We dressed up fancy, at sushi at Sapporo (which we also did on our honeymoon) and went to the Nickelodeon to see 500 Days of Summer. It was our best date ever.

6. After my in-laws had returned home, I started preparing madly for the Picnic Music and Arts Festival in Portland. The festival was on September 12 and it rained, but it was a great learning experience for me. I had never been a vendor at anything (except my own art shows, totally different) so it was scary and exciting but I met some really nice people and all kinds of strangers complimented me and actually bought my stuff!

7. I then spent several weeks recovering from all the stress and anxiety I piled upon myself throughout my busy busy summer.

8. Liam had eye surgery to correct his strabismus problem- it ended up being a surgery for both eyes, and I was so so scared about it, but Liam is an amazing person and it's true, so true, what they say. Stuff like this really is harder on the parents than it is on the kids. I can't express enough how strong and awesome he was. And his eyes are looking great now!

9. I've been on two Girls Night Out-type gatherings with some of my closest friends from high school, most of whom I haven't seen in years, and it was a lot of fun reconnecting with them.

Ok, I'm going to check on the guys.

I guess I'm blogging again.

fart sound

2009-09-28T15:35:00.001-04:00

Oh my goodness. Hi. I'm still alive. I know, I suck at blogging. I'll get better soon.

the darndest things

2009-08-07T16:49:00.002-04:00

This is a conversation that Gabe and Liam had recently, which I'm glad didn't happen in public but I'm blogging about it anyway because it's easier to explain in writing without stuttering and turning purpley-red.

You see, Liam comes with me nearly every time I go to the store, and if I put something in the shopping cart and he asks what it is, I'll always tell him. I have my period about every three weeks instead of four, so I buy a lot of feminine products.

They were watching a nature program on television.
LIAM: Look! A frog!
GABE: That's right, it's a frog.
LIAM: A frog in the water!
GABE: Yes, the frog is swimming in the water.
LIAM: The frog is swimming in the ocean.
GABE: That frog is not in the ocean- it's in a pond.
LIAM: Oh! Mama has a tampond!

What you don't know...

2009-08-05T19:56:00.003-04:00

I frequently find myself unable to pull myself away from that TLC show, I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. My own pregnancy symptoms were so immediate and glaring that there was no denying I was pregnant before the tests were even coming up positive. I can't imagine someone entering into their third trimester and then going into labor without ever knowing their body was a vessel for another human being- although, it's apparently possible. (Have you seen that show? IT FREAKS ME OUT!)

Lately I have been feeling pregnant. I'm not. Not even a little. But I feel all these pregnancy-ish symptoms that, if we were trying to conceive, would send me into a frenzy of peeing on sticks and waiting for double pink lines.

Even though I know I am not expecting, I have these brief moments of panic where I can hear the narrator telling TLC viewers my story: "Although Nora gained no weight and could still fit into her size four jeans, she was thirty-seven weeks pregnant and had no idea she was about to give birth to her second child on her kitchen floor."

There's a commercial break, then we return to the dark-haired actress portraying me, sweating heavily, gritting her teeth and writhing on the floor. Narrator: "Nora thought it was a problem with her cystic ovaries or another bout of gas."

My appetite has increased, I have cravings, I am uncontrollably exhausted sometimes to the point of near narcolepsy, I am moody, I am light headed, and I've been having more headaches. If I wasn't still having my period in a big way I'd totally be peeing on sticks EVERY DAY.

new things

2009-07-06T20:27:00.002-04:00

This coming weekend, my big brother Scott is moving back home from Brooklyn. I'm excited for him to be around again, permanently (for now), because he's loving, helpful and funny, and he and Liam have a lot of fun together. Liam's changed a lot since Christmastime, when Scott was visiting last, so Scott will have a lot of fun watching his nephew's new tricks, and listening to him bust out all of his new words and sentences and babbled soliloquies.

On Saturday morning I'm picking up a cargo van from a rental place here in town, and driving to New York to pick Scott and his belongings up, then we're road-tripping it back to Maine. I'll be in New York City for one night.

All I can think is:

OMG what am I going to wear???

and-

OMG how the hell do I drive in New York City???

a few things

2009-07-01T14:11:00.002-04:00

1. My new dryer was delivered today! There's a laundry party commencing (quietly and efficiently!) in my kitchen right now, and the laundromat can SUCK IT.

2. I have experienced my first two cases of The Whys? today, thanks to my growing, smarty-pants toddler, and I am not sure I was prepared for it to start so soon. I mean, it's really easy so far but still. I need to be a quicker thinker.

ME: Liam, want to come help me with the laundry?
LIAM: WHY!
ME: *whips head around* ...Because...... I... need your... help...?

ME: Liam, don't stand right in front of the TV!
LIAM: WHY!
ME: *blank stare... blink blink*
LIAM: *funny dance he does when he thinks he's in trouble*
ME: Because you can see it from the couch.
LIAM: Ok, Mama.

3. Lately, in our living room dance parties he will only dance to Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust" or "Golden Years" by David Bowie. My kid is awesome.

4. He's getting a twin bed soon! Woo-hooooooo!

a tribute

2009-06-28T21:19:00.001-04:00

The dance scene in Thriller has always and will always get me. Seriously. It makes me just as giddy and choked up as when Johnny and Baby dance at the end of Dirty Dancing. It's perfect.

roller rink

2009-06-27T13:59:00.002-04:00

An actual conversation I had with my chiropractor in 2005 after she looked over my x-rays:

DR. PORTER: Were you a skater when you were younger? Ice skating or roller skating?
NORA: I used to ice skate every winter.
DR. PORTER: Have you ever broken your tailbone?
NORA: No.
DR. PORTER: Well, you're showing some trauma to your tailbone that indicates more than one previous tailbone fractures.
NORA: That's weird.
DR. PORTER: It can be easy for some people to break their tailbone and never know it. Did you ever fall directly on your butt?
NORA: [laugh] Yes.
DR. PORTER: That's probably what did it. Like, two or three times.

So imagine the sweat that gathered on my forehead and in my armpits when my friend asked me to go roller skating with him.

I graduated from high school with Matt, but aside from running into him a few times in the past nine years, I hadn't spent much time with him since algebra class senior year. We've been friends on MySpace and Facebook for a few years now and our pretty regular "We should get together soon!" exchanges after I moved back to Maine last year finally got to the point where we were both meant business. But roller skating? Errr....

I hadn't roller skated since I was 12. It was January of 1994 and I was on a date with my sixth-grade boyfriend that a few of my girlfriends tagged along to. I remember it well, and I know I fell that night.

But I made myself do it, because it's been raining a lot and I was desperate for something new, and even though it was completely outside of my comfort zone I wanted to beat my anxieties into submission with a nail-studded stick. What better way than roller skating?

Dudes, I am SO GLAD I went! Yeah, I was scared and shaky at first, and roller skating is not as easy to me as ice skating, but I did it, and I loved it, and I'm going to start making it a regular thing. THANK GOODNESS Matt asked me to go!

I was really surprised and impressed by the other people skating- there were men and women in their 50s and up who glided so effortlessly on those little wheels, their bodies moving smoothly in the rink like they were weightless. It was beautiful, really.

It'll be nice to have something outside of the house that is not related to errands that I can do on my own, and judging by the ache in my legs for the two days following skating night, it seems to be a pretty good exercise.

Another bonus: with all the butt clenching I do on skates, I am hoping that within a few months time I'll have the firm and perky bum I've been half-heartedly attempting to sculpt at home.

The Hangover + my mom-ness

2009-06-24T23:17:00.001-04:00

Last weekend my sister kindly babysat for Liam so that Gabe and I could go out for a date! Woo, woo!

We went to see The Hangover, which had obviously been getting great reviews, and which seemed like the kind of movie where we could kind of check out from real life and laugh at the really absurd situations presented in this comedy.

And that's exactly what we did. We laughed a lot.

But you know me. I'm a mom. And there were a few things in the movie that I could not even muster a chuckle at, because I take things really literally and there are some things that I just don't think are funny.

I'm such a bummer.

If you've seen the movie, you'll know what I'm talking about if you read on. If you haven't, don't worry because I'm not going to spoil anything for you.

Everything I thought was unfunny was directly related to the baby that is found in a closet when the guys wake up at a luxury hotel with their hangover.

1. One of the characters moves the baby's arm to mimic the motions of ma$turbat!on. I don't think that ma$turbat!on is dirty or wrong, but I think it's inappropriate to expect adults to find humor in that.

2. They put the baby in the backseat of a car with no car seat, with a regular seat belt on. OBVIOUSLY I know this is not real but it's the idea. I take car seat safety very seriously and some idiot out there might think this is ok. I already know how relaxed some parents can be in real life in regards to their child's automotive safety and I could not see the humor in this situation. And then in the movie they get into a series of minor collisions while the baby's back there, unrestrained!!! Oh my word, I almost passed out. Not funny.

3. They left the baby in the car in the Vegas heat while they went into a chapel to find some more clues about their inebriated night. This is also a serious real-life issue. Babies die in hot cars, just like animals do. In the past couple years I have read several articles about parents who forget their child is in the car seat and they leave the car unattended for hours, or they have ignorantly, stupidly, knowingly left their kids in a hot car because it's easier than getting them in or out.

4. When they reunite the baby with his mom, she sees he's hungry and whips out her boob to breastfeed him, leaving the male characters slack-jawed at the sight of her full breast (which was shown on-screen). Now, I happily breastfed, and I am a full supporter of breastfeeding in general and of the idea that it is natural and should not be concealed away from society. BUT I have a problem with sexualizing breastfeeding, which is one of the big problems that breastfeeding moms face in public when they want to discreetly feed their babies through nursing garments and cover-ups. You wouldn't believe the kinds of things I have heard about people actually saying to nursing moms. If we as a society continue to portray women's breasts solely as tools of sex, breastfeeding will continue to be misunderstood and discouraged in public.

I know this was a comedy, and that pretty much every situation in the movie was unrealistic, but as a mom those four things were too real for me. I found them so unfunny. Gabe and I were the only ones in the theater who seemed to find them distasteful, and I felt like a bit of an old fogy until I reminded myself that my parenting experience so far and research is something I value, and it won't change my opinion.

The rest of the movie was really funny to me and I needed those laughs. It was absurd and it was hilarious and if you think my points won't bother you too much, by all means, go see The Hangover!

Also? Ed Helms playing a different character than Andy Bernard? Tee-hee. He's kind of cute. It made me feel less weird about that bewildering dream I had a couple weeks ago in which Jim Halpert and Andy Bernard were fighting over me.

Hmmm...

results: my hair

2009-06-19T20:49:00.004-04:00

I had my hair trimmed tonight by Carmen at Karma Hair and Bodywork Salon on Sabattus Street in Lewiston.

Here are my before and after photos. Note the scraggles at the bottom of my hair in the before shot. Those were driving me bananas. In the after shot, my hair looks healthier with a cleaner cut with just a few snips.

The best part is my bangs, which Carmen cleaned up for me. I've been trimming them myself but I am afraid to make them too short so I kept them too long and they were always in my eyes.

Now I can see!

(Please note: that's not some weird chunk of hair on the other side of my face; that's the shadow my giganto nose is casting on the wall behind me.)

Liam loves running his hands through my hair, especially when it's wet. I think subconsciously that's another part of why I don't want to get rid of it all yet. Plus, I can still totally tickle him with the ends of my hair without even turning my face away from him.

My hair looks like it's about the same length now as it was in March of 2006 when I donated it last. I think I'll keep growing it at least through the fall before I cut it again- and now, thanks to Carmen, I'll have healthier hair to send off to someone who needs it more than I do.

A Brief History of My Hair... Riveting!

2009-06-19T15:31:00.004-04:00

In March of 2006, I had really long hair. Long enough that ponytails hurt with their weight and I could have posed as Eve in a "forbidden fruit" photo shoot, complete with my hair modestly covering my nakedness.

I decided to go for a Big Chop, and donated over ten inches to Locks of Love. Donating my hair had been something I'd wanted to do for years, but never managed the patience to let it get long enough (to not end up in the end with a Jamie Lee Curtis spiky buzz cut). Finally, I had done it. I was inspired by my six-year-old cousin who started growing out her hair so she could be like Rapunzel, and ended up donating her hair.

I went to Sweet 200 in Dallas, where Kinome gave me a haircut that I LOVED. (If you're in Dallas, call and see if she's still there; she's awesome!)

From there, I grew it out for over a year until the last week or so of my pregnancy. It wasn't nearly as long but it was already getting too heavy and I knew that with a newborn I would be living in buns and ponytails. I really only have pregnancy photos from that time, but you can still see in this photo how long it had gotten. (That look in my eyes? Overwhelming pregnancy fatigue.)

I don't remember which salon I went to in Cedar Hill or the name of my stylist (Remember? Fifteen months pregnant) but she was great, and I was really happy with this cut as well:

This evening when Gabe gets home from work I am heading out to get my hair cut for the first time in over two years. I haven't had anything trimmed except for my bangs, which I do myself. I'm ridiculously excited about this trim- not because it's going to be another drastic cut but because I'm really just getting my hair healthy tonight. I want the wear and tear of two years gone so that I can enjoy these long locks.

About a month ago I was all ready for another Great Chop for Locks of Love, especially with summer coming (someday...) but I decided instead to just take care of my hair and make the most of having this much of it. There's something I'm really attached to about it- I don't know if it's because my hair is as old as Liam or because I have these silly, idealistic visions of being a long-haired lady in the garden with my son. (Ok, I admitted it.)

I'll post my before and afters later. I bet you can't wait.

Well, I know I can't.

passing

2009-06-11T22:56:00.002-04:00

When I was little and my family still lived in Gardner, Massachusetts, my mum's aunt and uncle also still lived in that town. My mum grew up with them in a brick house at a quiet intersection and we'd go over for dinner every now and then.

I remember this one time, Tata made a pineapple upside-down cake for dessert and at that time it was the yummiest thing I had ever tasted (except maybe for strawberry ice cream) so she let me have seconds. I remember her cutting another slice for me and sliding it onto my plate, smiling warmly the whole time.

Tata passed away earlier today after her battle with cancer. Within the first weeks after her diagnosis, there was hope that she'd live another couple years. However, her body did not respond to chemo and radiation and what started out as breast cancer became her tiny body's battle against the tumors in her chest and on her back. For the last few weeks of her life, the only medication she was given were concoctions to keep her sleepy and painless.

My mum was there with her in Florida for the last few months, at the bedside of the woman who raised her. There's relief that there's no more pain but of course, the heartache at knowing that someone so vibrant and vital in my family is gone and that the woman who was essentially my mom's mom is no longer on this earth.

This is Tata in younger and healthier times, on her wedding day when she was twenty years old.

*Please note, those are not black stains on her dress, just scuffs on my photograph.

I'll remember that sweet face and her sweet accent- and the pineapple upside-down cake, and the warm brick house at that quiet intersection.

support

2009-06-09T22:21:00.000-04:00

Our late spring weather has been feeling like early spring instead- chilly and rainy, we're still sleeping between flannel sheets. We've had some shorts and t-shirt weather, and then it switches back to jackets and umbrellas.

Make up your MIND, Maine.

My adventure in gardening is going well. My peas are tall and thriving in the rain but because of the cold nightly temperatures, I only just last week planted other seeds. I'll know in another week or so if his past week's weather allows them to sprout. I still have some seeds starting indoors that will go outside by the end of this month (I hope?)

I recently put in stakes and twine to help support the peas, and Liam had fun circling me, watching closely and asking, "Mama, what DO?" (Which means "Mama, what are you doing?")

I think he'll grow a garden someday, too. With his kids on his heels, asking, "Daddy, what DO?"

two years

2009-06-06T22:08:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday, Liam.

My bumblebee.

My wiggleworm.

My love.

My danceypants.

My angelface.

Your dad and I adore you and have so much admiration for you. You are a ton of fun and you are so smart, and I feel so lucky and blessed to be your mom.

"Everything you want to be, I can't wait to see you be."

Love (love love love love) always-
Mama xoxo

almost two years

2009-06-04T19:10:00.001-04:00

Because it's been all that's on my mind lately, I'll direct you to this post, which is probably the most complete (but still mostly incomplete) birth story I have typed out so far.

Liam is going to be two years old in two days.

That sound you just heard was my head exploding.

perils of the absent mind

2009-05-31T22:21:00.002-04:00

The most inconvenient thing about accidentally running my husband's cell phone through the washing machine is the fact that he can no longer call my number when I lose my cell phone twice a day.

And the whole, you know, Gabe not having a phone thing. (We don't have/need a land line.)

(Unless you count situations like these.)

The replacement cannot arrive soon enough!

Just when I thought I wasn't into themes.

2009-05-31T21:00:00.002-04:00

Have I mentioned yet that Liam's second birthday party is (loosely) themed?

'Cause it is. And I'm so excited.

I'm most excited about the chocolate banana Plex cake I'll be making.

Plex is the magic robot, of course, for those of you not familiar with Yo Gabba Gabba. He's a good dancer, and he's nice to his friends, and he can conjure celebrities like Elijah Wood, Melora Hardin and Tony Hawk out of thin air, using the antenna on top of his head.

So why WOULDN'T the cake be a Plex cake, right?

Liam's birthday party will be AWESOOOOOOOMMMMME! (When you read that you have to hear DJ Lance echoing in your head.)

Angel Amber

2009-05-30T18:46:00.004-04:00

Yesterday my Mum and Dad celebrated thirty-three years of marriage. Dad flew down to my great-aunt's in Florida to spend the weekend with Mum. Happy Anniversary, guys! :)

Today is the day my little sister would have turned twenty-six years old. In about an hour I am going to make sure to look at the sky again, to keep up my accidental tradition of observing spectacular sunsets on her birthday every year.

It's been cold and raining for three days straight, and today dawned warm and sunny with bright, puffy clouds. As we were wrapping up our errands, heavy gray clouds rolled in and we had a ten-minute rainstorm, followed immediately by more sunshine. Porch weather, but we don't have a porch. Instead, the three of us hung out in the kitchen with the shades all pulled up while I cooked us a late lunch.

My great-aunt is not doing well. The cancer has spread and has become untreatable. Her tumors got bigger instead of smaller. She can barely eat or drink and right now she has round-the-clock hospice care to manage the pain. It's just a matter of when her body takes its final breath and gives in, sending her soul shooting to the clouds so she can be with her husband again, and her great-niece Amber and her brother (my grandfather) and her mom and dad.

Like last year, I did not dwell on Amber's absence like I have my whole life before that. In fact today I did not even think of it being her birthday at all until I had some quiet time to myself while Gabe bathed Liam and I noticed the angle of the sun. Then I remembered the clouds today, the sun, the short rainfall, and that rush of wind that preceded it as we walked from the car to our front door. I inhaled it especially deeply. I'm sure she was in that wind, and I'm sure my great-aunt Christine* will chase her soon.

They'll fly through trees and across fields and ruffle our hair. Free free free.

*real name used

True Maine

2009-05-28T20:56:00.003-04:00

On Facebook, you know there's an endless number of quizzes... "How BADASS are you?", "What kind of mother are you?", "Which earth element are you?", "Which house best fits your personality" and other useless things to help pass the time (although I will say that the "Which BADASS thing are you?" was awesome and hilarious and made me LOL). Then of course there's the regional quizzes... "How Ohioan are you?", "How Texan are you?" and "How well do you know Idaho??!"

I took the "How Well Do You Know Maine?" quiz today, which informed me that "You're a True Mainer!" Before you think I'm a Maine history and trivia scholar I'll let you know that I learned everything the quiz asked by the time I was ten. What percentage of Maine is forested? Which county is "The County"? What's the state capital? Ninety per cent, Aroostook, and Augusta- DUH.

I ~~told~~ politely asked Gabe to take the quiz to see how Maine he is. It turns out he's a True Mainer too, but only with my assistance.

GABE: How many counties are in Maine? Twenty-five? [An expected question from a Texan, where they have like a bajillion little counties in their giant state.]
ME: WHAT! No! Come on!
GABE: Sixteen?
ME: YES!
GABE: Well how would I know that??
ME: It's in the SONG!
GABE: What song?
ME: The COUNTY song! [to the tune of Yankee Doodle] Sixteen counties in our state-
GABE: Oh God, shut up.
ME: Cumberland and Frankin, Piscataquis-
GABE: Shut up.
ME: and Somerset-
GABE: Shut up.
ME: Aroostook, Androscoggin. Sagahahoc-
GABE: Shut up.
ME: and Kennebec-
GABE: Shut up.
ME: Lincoln, Knox and Hancock.
GABE: Shut up.
ME: Waldo, Washington and York-
GABE: Shut up.
ME: Wait, I'm almost done! Oxford and Penobscot!
GABE: [a pause] Congratulations.
ME: Thank you. Man, that's a good song.

.

Who's responsible for this?

2009-05-26T12:55:00.007-04:00

I'm just wondering. Who was in charge of naming the Mirena IUD? How did they not take into consideration that there is a fairly common girls' name, MARINA, used with enough regularity in the United States that it's been on the charts since the 1920s, and even though it's spelled differently, it's pronounced almost the same?

That's like naming birth control Staysee, or developing an erect!le dysfunct!on medication and calling it Steev.

You just don't do it, out of respect for the Stacys and Steves in the world.

I'd be pissed if there was a new c0nd0m brand called Norruh.

*Certain words have been altered to avoid internet searches for those words landing on my blog for the wrong reasons. Some of the things I've seen in my stat counter are just creepy.

these mice are ninjas

2009-05-25T18:40:00.005-04:00

A couple nights ago I was lying in bed, just drifting off to sleep when I heard a rattle of dishes in the kitchen. My first hazy thought: OH MY CRAP SOMEONE BROKE IN. The cobwebs cleared from my mind a bit and I assured myself that no, if I heard dishes clanking then I would have heard the front door open, and if someone WAS breaking in they wouldn't be stealing my dishes.

Next thought: OH MY CRAP THERE'S A GHOST IN MY KITCHEN. While a housekeeping ghost may not be entirely unwelcome, I then assured myself that if there was a ghost in my kitchen, again, they would not be playing with my dishes. They'd obviously be getting all Poltergeist on my ass and stacking chairs, leaving cabinet doors open and dragging Carol-Anne across the tiles.

Then I remembered. THE MICE. That we hadn't gotten around to poisoning yet. Clink clink, clank clank went the dishes and in my head I'm all Get out of my friggin' dishes, you stupid mice, I'm trying to sleep!

It would start and stop, and start and stop.

Finally I shook Gabe at the hip. "Babe, I'm sorry to wake you up but there's a mouse in the dishes." Clink clank, rattle rattle.

He's all, Huh, wha?, still mostly sleeping, and I had to say it again like four times. Then: "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Go catch it," I tell him, like duh.

"With what?"

"A plastic bag!" OBVIOUSLY.

"And then do what with it?"

"Throw it outside." Do I have to think of EVERYTHING?

There's a silence (in the bedroom at least; in the kitchen, there's still a party in my dishes) and I thought Gabe had fallen back asleep. He's like that. You know. Likes to sleep while he's sleeping.

Then: "No. I'm really tired."

"But what about the mice?" Rattle rattle. "Fine. I'll go take care of it."

I got out of bed and tip-toed to the kitchen, afraid of stepping in squishy mice the whole way. I creep into the kitchen, wincing in advance of seeing some little vermin in my sink or in the dish drainer. I go slowly, peek over the edge of the counter. There's dishes in the sink. I look up. Dishes in the drainer. But no mice. Just their little jimmies they like to leave behind, those little jerks. "Dance party on your dishes! Here are some little shits to remember us by!"

So yesterday morning I soaked all the dishes in bleachy water before washing them again, including all of the clean dishes from the drainer that Gabe had been so kind to wash for me on Saturday. I gave up on my poor little mice people stance and we decided to get some traps.

We cleared off the counter tops and Gabe set the glue traps out last night. He promised to go to the kitchen first in the morning so I wouldn't have to see them.

This morning, Liam and I waited in the living room after getting out of bed before getting our breakfast. Gabe was quiet in the kitchen for a while, and I finally went in there to see what was going on.

I paused in the doorway. "Any mice?" I asked before venturing further.

"No. But there's a trap missing."

I went in. Still three traps on the counter, but the one on the floor between the sink and the washing machine? Gone. Gabe had pulled the washer out and was looking behind it with a flashlight. He found many mouse turds, a cloth diaper and a crumpled up paper towel that had gone missing and forgotten, and- BREAKTHROUGH!- the huge gap in the floor where it meets the wall. Juuuuust big enough for mice to get through. So at least now we know where they're coming from.

But after searching the kitchen thoroughly for the missing trap and (hopefully) dead mouse, there's still the mystery of WHERE THE HELL DID THEY GO!??

Gabe thinks they're ninja mice but I have another theory.

Obviously what happened was, this little smartass mouse was creeping along the floor and came across the glue trap. He sniffed. "What's this?" he wondered. "Some joke from those human people, for sure." He calls to his friends in the wall. "Hey guys, get a load of this! Those people think they're smarter than us!" And a little army of mice comes over to check it out. The Eldest raises his monocle and clears his throat. "What we have here is some sort of trap," he says, and all the mice nod in understanding and agreement. The Eldest pinches the tip of his handlebar mustache. "Some sad, pathetic little lure. We shall take it back to the lab. Gentlemen?" So the mice all grab an edge and carry it back into their laboratory in the wall, where they studied it all night and learned all the chemistry and physics.

I am fairly certain that in a couple days, I'm going to walk into my kitchen some morning to get Liam's milk and breakfast, and I'm going to step directly into a giant glue trap. I'll look over to the gap between the sink and the washing machine and I'm going to see that little army of mice all standing on their hind legs and they will be crapping all over my floor because they are laughing so hard.

OBVIOUSLY.

stages

2009-05-24T22:22:00.003-04:00

^ Two years ago at this time.

Our baby's not a baby anymore, and we need to start thinking about the following:

* a toddler bed

* an upgrade in age-appropriate toys

* forward-facing in the car seat

* booster seat instead of high chair

* his 2nd birthday party

*college

^ Last year at this time.

^ This year.

Innocence

2009-05-19T17:10:00.002-04:00

Liam was sitting on my lap, facing me, and we were talking about why he was just in time-out (throwing stuff) when he tried his usual distractions from seriousness.

LIAM: Mama? [points to my chest] New shirt?
ME: Yes, I put a new shirt on.
LIAM: Circles?
ME: Yes, my shirt has circles!
LIAM: [points to my breasts] Booboos? [He means boobies.] [Yes, sometimes I call them boobies.]
ME: Those are called breasts.
LIAM: EEEWWWWWWWWW! [rolls off my lap and runs away]

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your favorite bloggers

2009-05-16T10:26:00.003-04:00

I'm looking for new blogs to read.

At the end of the day, once Liam's asleep, I like to have some me-time and since pregnancy stole my ability to read books like a normal person (Oh my goodnes, WHERE is my attention span?? I haven't been pregnant for almost two years and it never came back! Help!) I do most of my reading online in the form of blogs, news articles and Facebook status updates.

I'm not sure how many of you five regular readers use my link list to the side there, where you can click on all the blogs I read pretty regularly, but I need to add to it. I would like to spice up my nightly blog-hopping.

I'm looking for:
~humor, but not needy or forced
~moms who don't just complain about how motherhood ruined their lives
~cute photos are a plus
~male bloggers, as I'm pretty sure I only read one or two
~frequent postings
~not the high-and-mighty type

I'm taking suggestions! Who should I start reading?

RANDOM NOTE: this morning Liam is being particularly sweet and funny, and he just came up to me with all seriousness and said, "Mama! The mighty jungle on a bicycle!" This might be the longest sentence he's ever said and while we're still not sure where it came from I'm all proud and charmed.

Dear Mice. Thank you for your contribution to... to what again?

2009-05-15T13:51:00.003-04:00

I take a pretty humane approach to the animals and critters around me. I don't eat meat, I don't go hunting, I brake for squirrels, I carry spiders outside and set them free in the bushes, and when I'd accidentally cut worms in half when I was digging in my garden, I'd say a little prayer for them and thank them for their contribution to the soil. (I'm not joking.) (And I don't care if you think I'm lame.)

The only time I get lethal is when it's a matter of self-defense, health or safety. For instance, I have a severe mosquito/ black fly allergy. I kill those bitches. Ants also like to bite me (WTF, ants!!!) and they can get into your food. They don't stand a chance 'round these parts.

For the first time in my life I am facing a mouse problem in my home. Our apartment is in a very old building- it's an 1800s farmhouse that's been converted into a handful of units. We're surrounded by trees and a really big yard, so I am not surprised we have mice now. It comes with the territory.

But. Not only are mice a nuisance- they nibble books and scurry around and chew through clothes and don't pay rent- but they chew through cereal boxes, bags of flour, burrow into your boxes and die smelly deaths. Not only are they gross and intrusive but they shit on your counter tops too as an extra act of defiance.

For two mornings in a row now I have found mouse droppings in my kitchen. Yesterday it was just two tiny poop beans and I was in denial, but this morning there were more and I can't pretend it's toaster crumbs anymore. This is a health and safety issue, and those little effers have got to go.

I asked around a bit for some advice about how to get rid of them. I decided not to use the traps that slap shut because, as Audrey pointed out, "The mouse traps spatter blood everywhere and make more of a mess. You don't want to clean up a crime scene do you?" That's worse than mouse crap.

Nicole suggested I get a cat, which is a nice idea because I like cats, but Gabe is allergic and we can't afford an animal right now. Plus, I grew up in another, older farmhouse with pet cats and I am not really up for having dead mice dropped politely at my feet while I'm watching TV. Thanks anyway, Nicole! :)

Jer suggested the glue traps, but I'm not fond of that idea because of the prolonged suffering the mouse would experience before dying- the struggle, the desperation, the exhaustion. Even Gabe was concerned about that- Gabe, my awesome husband, who sometimes bites into a burger and says, "Mmmm, cow," to his vegetarian wife. So that's a no-go.

I know there are box traps that won't kill or injure the mice and you can just set them free outside. While this is obviously the most humane solution, aren't those little buggers just going to come back inside and take repeated craps on my counter? Or does, like... the pet store take mice from random people who catch them at home?

I think we'll be going with poison. Audrey lives on a farm and uses a poison that dries the mouse out so they won't stink up a storm after they die. I remember her post about watching a pregnant mouse in her house die from the poison, and at that time I thought "THANK GOODNESS we don't have mice." But now we do. And unless Petco is taking donations, I feel like I have to kill them. For the health and safety of my home. I understand that poisoning them also inflicts suffering but it wouldn't last as long as a mouse superglued to a piece of cardboard.

Right?

I hope.

Now PETA is going to get a hold of my blog and SHUT THIS MOFO DOWN!

.

Dear son, SLEEP. Kthx. <3 U.

2009-05-13T15:36:00.002-04:00

Dear Liam,

If you don't want to nap anymore, that's cool. If it's something your body doesn't need, I'm fine with that.

If you want to get up between six and seven every morning, that's cool too. It means we get to see Daddy a little before he leaves for work and I think that's great for all of us!

However.

These two things COMBINED are not working for me, and I'm kind of your boss? So choose one, and run with it.

Because I can tell it's not really working for you either, considering your daily 3 p.m. meltdowns about the block stuck under the couch, or the banana you can't eat fast enough, or when the book just doesn't have any more pages. Sorry they didn't write more pages.

The days are long when you're awake so long, aren't they? Sleeping is nice, isn't it? Please work on doing a little more of it. Bed at 8 p.m. = awesome! Sleeping till 9 or 10 in the morning = perfect! DO IT. Then we can party all day long.

I love you, and I want your happiness and (mostly) daylong contentedness. Now please get some sleep.

Listen to your mother.

Love, Mama
xoxo

I'd rather be sleeping.

2009-05-12T21:55:00.002-04:00

I've been doing so much housework lately that I am wondering where the real Nora went.

Not that you'd necessarily walk into our apartment and see your reflection on my kitchen floor, and you definitely don't want to see the size of the dust ~~bunnies~~ monsters underneath my radiators- but I've been getting these spurts of energy where I MUST! wash every dirty dish in the house! I MUST! see the bottom of the hamper and actually put away all the clean clothes. The countertops MUST! sparkle!

That's everyday for some people, but not so much for me.

I've also resolved to de-clutter our home. I keep things. I save things. I'm way too attached to things that really aren't important in the long run. I call it being "sentimental" or "nostalgic" but really, I'm a pack rat. And it has to stop.

I read an article recently which advised that unless something is an actual keepsake or heirloom (wedding gown, photos, etc) and you haven't used or worn it in a year, then get rid of it. So I am on a mission.

Today I finally made an appointment with a consignment shop in Portland. In June I'll be bringing them four to five boxes of clothes and accessories plus a box of shoes. I packed up two boxes plus a suitcase full of donations for the Salvation Army. I already feel a weight off my shoulders.

I have a stack of some clothes I'd like to sell on my own on Craigslist or E-Bay. We'll be selling our Nintendo, record player, baby things (Snuggle Nest, Hotsling, swing, bouncer), and some other random things that are just taking up space.

I still have every stitch of Liam's clothes since he was a newborn. I'll be going through those to decide what I want for keepsakes (there's no way I am ever getting rid of the tiny shirt and hat he wore as a newborn in the hospital), what I can sell and what I'll donate to needy families.

We have a major lack of closet space in here and our bureau is pretty small, so every little bit is going to count.

I still have a lot of work ahead of me, and this weekend we'll pick up some storage bins so I can start a better system of packing away seasonal clothes and keeping our living space open and livable. It's going to be lookin' good in here. And when we have company I'll just spend some time straightening up, not HOURS cleaning in preparation.

FINALLY!

a mother's work

2009-05-11T10:24:00.001-04:00

I'm not the type to expect lavish gifts and pampering on days like Mother's Day- I don't wear/like a lot of jewelry, I don't think I'd like a spa day, I'm not into designer labels so a new purse or sunglasses would not break the bank. And anyways, I just replaced my $10 Walmart sunglasses Liam broke with another, almost identical $10 pair of Walmart sunglasses, and my new bag was on clearance at Target for like six bucks.

I don't need expensive things to prove my husband appreciates the things I do as a mother.

The first time I woke up on Mother's Day was to a roll of thunder and a splash of rain on the window. I rolled over, smiled, and went back to sleep. Happy Mother's Day to me!

The second time I woke up on Mother's Day was when Liam was calling to me in his sleep. As he slowly woke up, so did Gabe and they moved to the living room to let me spread out in bed. Happy Mother's Day to meee!

The third and final time I woke up on Mother's Day morning, Liam was screaming- the kind of sound where you know something actually happened. I got up and found Gabe trying to keep Liam still- trying to get the peanut out of his nose. I fetched the blunt tweezers from the baby first aid kit and while Gabe held Liam's head still, I probed the peanut back down the nostril from the outside and did a little tug with the tweezers. The peanut slid out and stuck to Liam's lip, and defeated, he whimpered, "Mama." Happy Mother's Day to meeeeeee!

Gabe made us French toast and soy sausage and I got a cute card with a sweet message from Gabe and some crayon scribbles from Liam. They gave me a tray of seed starting pellets so I can start my tomatoes and green peppers over after the first ones died in The Great Heating Struggle of 2009. It was a really nice Mother's Day.

I do have one complaint. It's not Gabe's fault or anything; I'll blame the Mother's Day Fairy. Because she forgot to come at all!

While I might not want fancy jewelry and clothes or a makeover, I am in need of some household things. All the articles you read that tell you not to give a woman a vacuum for Mother's Day? Don't give her an apron! they warn. Well, what the heck! Who makes those rules!

The Mother's Day Fairy forgot to bring the steam-vac that Santa didn't load onto his sleigh last year. My carpet is crying. The Mother's Day Fairy forgot to bring the Shark Steam Mop! My hardwoods and linoleum are also very, very sad. And seriously. Have you seen the front of my shirt after baking? Dear heavens, of course I need an apron!

Also, I'm the type of mom who, despite all the warnings not to, would LOVE to receive necessities for my child on Mother's Day. A wardrobe for Liam? Why, yes, please! The Mother's Day Fairy brought him a slide? How thoughful!

Gabe and Liam gave me a very pleasant and relaxing Mother's Day, and I'm thankful. I'm thankful that the reason I get to celebrate Mother's Day is because I'm Liam's mom. I'm thankful that my husband has never said, "But you're not MY mother" and pretended it was just another Sunday and asked me to make him a sandwich. That's all enough for me. That and the French toast.

But dude- Mother's Day Fairy? Where the heck were YOU!

I hope all you mamas out there had a relaxing day with your beautiful babies (even if your babies are old enough to have babies too).

another reason I love Maine

2009-05-06T12:48:00.004-04:00

I was literally just writing an email to my friends and family, asking them to contact our governor and urge him to sign LD 1020, which would grant marriage equality in Maine. Before I sent it, I opened a new browser to check Facebook where I could find the governor's email address to provide to my recipients. There, I found three brand new status updates declaring that GOVERNOR BALDACCI SIGNED IT!

Maine is now the fifth state in the nation to allow same-sex marriage, and I could not be more proud of our lawmakers and our governor right now- not to mention all of the Maine residents who supported this bill and spoke out for human rights. This is a really big day and I want to hug everyone that made it possible.

xoxo!

America's Next Top WHO CARES!

2009-05-05T22:32:00.001-04:00

Is it just me or as time passes, are Tyra Banks and Miss J looking more and more alike?

The Good-News Update on Liam's Hell-Rash

2009-05-05T14:09:00.002-04:00

I was tempted, but I didn't take photos of Liam's rash at its worst. I decided it would serve no purpose, other than looking through my thousands of digital photos a few months from now and thinking about how awful it was. It's not the kind of cute toddler photo I can show off to his high-school girlfriend in fifteen years. As they're leaving for the prom: "And this was that time Liam got a swollen, bright red rash all over his body! Including his buttcrack! How cute is THAT!" No.

It's better today. This morning, he woke up from a full night of restful sleep with skin that wasn't so startlingly red and the bumps were not as raised. THANK GOODNESS. He's been on Benadryl for just over twenty-four hours so it looks like the allergy diagnosis was accurate. I hope we can figure out what caused it so we can avoid another similar episode. Because UGH.

This morning, since he was more like himself, we read books for a few hours straight, which we haven't done in a while. And it was nice. When we'd finish a book, he'd stack it nicely in front of the couch and fetch another. We only stopped reading because he realized it was more fun to knock the pile over and slip around on the books. Books + carpet = instant ice skates.

We've also watched significantly fewer episodes of Caillou today (whom I refer to unaffectionately [when Liam isn't around] as a whiny little bitch- did I mention I HATE CAILLOU! I may or may not have once made up an inappropriate version of his theme song once. Ok. I did. I also did that for Fifi and the Flowertots because I have never seen a more obnoxious and unnecessary kid's program.) and Liam doesn't seem to mind.

THANK YOU BENADRYL!

xoxo

Confessions

2009-05-04T17:22:00.002-04:00

I confess that Liam's hand, foot and mouth disease is gone but now he's having an allergic reaction to something we haven't yet identified and his swollen, full-body rash makes me cringe. This kid's seriously awesome for dealing with it better than I do.

I confess that we've been using Caillou as a... shall I say, calming tool. It works. He's sick. What can we do.

I confess I HATE CAILLOU.

I confess that after declaring this coming week a no-sugar week for the family I used my homemade ginger molasses cookies to absorb Liam's Benadryl because he won't drink it out of the little measuring cup. I'm going to try yogurt and applesauce later but the cookies were more convenient earlier.

I confess that for Gabe and I, the no-sugar week was to start as soon as those cookies were gone and for Liam it was to start immediately. There's always... later in the week.

I confess I may soon be visiting Florida for the first time in my life. Not for a vacation but to visit a dying relative, which is probably one of the worst reasons for a "vacation."

I confess I NEED a vacation but this is not what I had in mind.

I confess that the dying relative is my great aunt, who raised my mother when my mother's parents decided that their children were a burden after they divorced in the 1950s. This great aunt means a great deal to my family and I bent over, clutching the handle on the oven door, sobbing, the day I got the call about her inoperable breast cancer.

I confess I miss my mum, who's been in Florida with her aunt since March.

I confess that I am dorkfully excited about composting. It makes me so happy to empty my coffee cans full of apple cores, potato skins, egg shells and banana peels out by the garden.

I confess that with May here, my son is now one month away from turning two years old and I am painfully torn about having another child or not.

Come on, get something off your chest.

My Neighbor, the Genius

2009-05-03T21:42:00.002-04:00

So I have this neighbor. She lives in the apartment next to us, and I know her not because we are friendly and visit with each other but because she knocked on my door last spring and asked me to turn up the heat. (The thermostat for our section of the building is in our apartment.) And she liked to leave little notes on our door in the fall, when our landlord was once again breaking laws and not turning the heat on in mid-September. "Can you turn up the heat? It's only 65 in my apartment." When OBVIOUSLY, as the parents of a toddler, if we could control it, we would have. But having the thermostat in our apartment does no good when the furnace is not even ON. And we told her so. We got more, similar notes.

During the winter, whenever we were expecting a snow storm, she'd leave a note requesting that we crank the heat in case we lost power, so that we'd have residual heat. Because, you know, that never occurred to us. And we kept it cranked to a whopping 70 degrees all winter anyway- the highest setting our thermostat allows- because the windows are pitifully drafty and did I mention we have a toddler to keep warm?

Once again, our rat of a landlord turned the furnace off early this spring. In an odd stroke of generosity he gave us an extra ten days or so compared to last year but the fact remains that he turned off the furnace more than three weeks before state law allows. And we got another note on our door this week. "Can you turn up the heat? It's only 65 degrees in my apartment." Lady. It's like 50 in ours. Save your scrap paper.

So we've been having some really nice weather- but the nights are cold, anywhere from the 30s to 50s, so it gets really cold in here. Our apartment in particular has no chance at solar heat since only one of our windows faces south, and it's in the kitchen. It heats up a 2'x2' square on the kitchen floor. Helpful. It stays cold in here. There's that toddler to keep warm- the one who's woken up earlier than he should a few times because he was cold. And we co-sleep. It's that cold in here.

One shot we have at warmth is keeping the main door open. Logically, because the universe has its ways of making sense, if you keep the door open during the day, you let in the nice warm air. If you close it at night you keep out the cold air. Makes sense... right?

Not to my friendly note-writing neighbor. This morning, there were three instances of the front main door being slammed shut just a few moments after other tenants were in and out. It was her. Probably wrapped in a shawl. Or a cat. When we left for a walk shortly afterwards, she'd written a note on the outside of the door: "PLEASE KEEP DOORS CLOSED." On the inside, it read "KEEP DOORS CLOSED BECAUSE THE HEAT IS OFF."

It was almost 70 degrees outside today. That's 70 degrees we should be letting INTO our frigid building, not shutting out. YOU ONLY KEEP THE DOOR CLOSED AT NIGHT, CRAZY LADY.

I'm tempted to leave a note on her door asking her to keep the putrid cat piss stench to a minimum. Sometimes just walking past her door induces body-wracking gags. Sometimes we can smell it in our living room, which shares a wall with hers, and WE DON'T HAVE CATS.

"Can you steam clean and bleach your apartment, and cut back to one cat? It F**KING REEKS in here. And it's really cold."

Nora's movie months

2009-05-03T19:38:00.003-04:00

Because we have Netflix, and because with Netflix you can choose to stream some of their movies on your computer or X-Box, we've been watching more movies than usual lately, once Liam is asleep.

Here are my brief reviews and recommendations (and sometimes more importantly, my NOT recommendations) in case you also want to watch a new movie almost every night like we were doing for a while.

ROLE MODELS: Duh. Paul Rudd is in it. Of course I'm more inclined to like it because he's so ridiculously adorable and I want to snuggle him and sing 80's sitcom theme songs with him in the rain. BUT? If that ten-year-old boy wasn't such a potty mouth, would it have been so inappropriately funny? Well. I do like laughing at LARPers.

YPF: The full title of this movie is Young People F**king. Yes, really. If you don't mind watching people (four couples and one trio, YES REALLY) progress from foreplay to the "afterglow" (with nudity) and you don't mind a mildly amusing movie being mostly pointless, go ahead and watch it instantly. But don't waste a DVD rental on it and don't watch it with your kids or parents around.

THE PUFFY CHAIR: YES. YES, watch this movie because I LOVED it and I haven't LOVED a movie fully in a loooong, loooooong time. This is a low-budget independent film that relies on dialogue instead of circumstance/stunts/boobs to drive it, and it was well-done, well-acted, realistic, and well worth your time. Please watch it and please love it.

QUIET CITY: I only chose this one for its name, because I am the original Quiet City and this movie keeps coming up in my Google alerts. UGH. I hated it. I'm sorry. I wanted to like it. This was another one that relied on somewhat improvised dialogue to drive it but NOTHING EVER HAPPENED. The dialogue didn't drive it anywhere and pretty skyline shots will only go so far.

WEDDING DAZE. I should have known. I should have known not to watch a movie starring Jason Biggs and Isla Fisher, but I did it. And OH MY BONES was it awful. Just awful. Just stupid and not funny and awful. I want to puke on it. Puke on it and set it on fire.

MY SUMMER OF LOVE: Eh. Whole lotta nothing going on here despite the attempt at portraying a spontaneous and passionate friendship between two high school girls. It could have been good, but it wasn't.

SMART PEOPLE: Oh, how I hated this movie. It was forced and I didn't believe a second of it.

TEETH: I honestly didn't know what to think of this movie while I was watching it and for most the the following day. I'm taking a deep breath here before I talk about it. And I'm going to censor some words so that searches for certain words won't land on my blog. Ready? It's about a high school student who's taken a vow of pre-marital celibacy and when she's sexu@lly violated she finds that her vag!na, which she knows NOTHING about, has teeth in it. And these teeth bite off the offender's wee-wee. And through the course of the movie she goes on to be violated by a male gynecologist (who loses fingers), a classmate and her step-brother. Sounds crazy, right? It was. But the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. I guess this "feminist horror movie" has made a lot of waves- but I still can't find a guy that's seen it actually liked it. Wonder why...

THE BIG, BAD SWIM: Eh. Also pretty boring. It's the intertwining lives of the members and instructor of an adult swim class, and yawn.

CHOKE: I was really excited about this movie because I so adore the book by Chuck Palahniuk. And it was not a bad movie. It was a good movie. I can't help but compare the two, though, and I don't think the movie was good enough. I did, however, think the choices of Sam Rockwell, Anjelica Huston and Kelly MacDonald in the lead roles were perfect.

THE ILLUSIONIST: This was pretty good. Nothing special or pressing for me to say about it, but I do recommend it.

BAGHEAD: YES. Written and directed by the Duplass Brothers (responsible for The Puffy Chair), this was both very funny and pretty scary. Four friends take to the woods to write a film they can take on the festival curcuit, while a mysterious man who wears a bag over his head creeps through the trees around them... dun dun DUN! Watch it.

Some examples of what's waiting in our queue (instant and DVD) that I'm looking forward to:
Persepolis
Milk
Rachel Getting Married
Lars and the Real Girl
Frost/Nixon
W.
The Triplets of Belleville
Conversations with Other Women
Alice
The Wind That Shakes the Barley
One to Another

the sky on Sunday, and other spring things

2009-04-27T21:55:00.003-04:00

I took this when we were spending yesterday afternoon with my dad. We ate lunch outside and Liam went wild in the big, big yard and even got grass stains on his bare knees.

You guys, it's spring! It's been so warm and it's getting green. I don't remember ever being so excited for spring.

Oh, also: I'm planting a vegetable garden! Liam's a good helper. He thinks worms are awesome. He finds them and says, "Oh, wum."

the open, foam-padded road

2009-04-25T21:18:00.001-04:00

With the pretty weather we've been having, we've seen lots of people dusting off their motorcycles and cruising around town.

Gabe really wants one, and I've always been against it for safety reasons. That doesn't stop him from talking about motorcycles ALL THE TIME.

GABE: If I have a motorcycle someday, would you let Liam ride with me?
NORA: Only once he's a teenager.
GABE: Yeah.
NORA: And in full body armor, or a space suit.
GABE: *laughs*
NORA: And only at like ten miles her hour. Barely enough to keep the bike upright.
GABE: Of course.
NORA: And I'll be in the car creeping along behind you.
GABE: And only out on abandoned dirt roads in the middle of nowhere?
NORA: Pretty much.

And I'm only kidding about the space suit.

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magic

2009-04-18T21:34:00.002-04:00

I didn't mean to write a post about the sleepless hole I fell into and then disappear dramatically for a week and a half.

But I got some rest and spring came and I was sucked outside into the sunshine and little sprouts on the ground and puffy summer-tinged clouds. I happened to have a crappy day today, but it's no one thing in particular and blahhhhh I don't want to dwell. It was 73 degrees yesterday!

I have another art show tomorrow, which I'm already freaking out about a little because WHAT WILL I WEAR? and this time I'm going by myself because Liam's getting... a little too, um, toddlery for art shows. A little too fussy and squirmy and all "LET ME TOUCH EVERYTHING INCLUDING THE SHARP METAL SCULPTURES!" I would love for him to be included but he doesn't enjoy it because he's only twenty-two months old! and I don't want to force him to grow up spontaneously and behave like a little man. He can BE twenty-two months old. He can BE all toddlery at home with Gabe where they can play and wrestle and chase and screech and cuddle and fall asleep together on the couch.

So yeah, everything's ok.

Now, I will leave you with this movie trailer which I DEMAND you watch because it's magical.

Did you get a little misty-eyed?

The correct answer is YES.

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not so good

2009-04-08T22:35:00.003-04:00

Last night, Gabe and I stayed up late to watch a movie and although I was exhausted from the day I'd had with Liam, I was unable to really settle in to sleep until almost 1 a.m. (Thank goodness That '70s Show is on The N in the middle of the night.)

Just before 2 a.m. Liam began stirring again. Instead of just talking in his sleep (telling me about whales like the previous night) he was fussy and fitful. Woke up with a scared scream- bad dreams again. Into our bed he comes, where he played with my hands FOR HOURS and eventually asked to eat. I snuggled him into the crook of my arm and he drank a cup of milk in the dark. I thought he was asleep again so I tried too, but despite my aching tiredness I couldn't sleep. Then he started moving again, murmuring, playing with my hand. Sticking his elbow up under my shoulder blade and into my ribs. FOR AN ETERNITY. At 4:30 a.m. I decided to move to the couch but once my body left the bed he screamed for me again. Back into bed. He's sleeping now. Back to the couch. Eyes heavy. Maybe a couple hours of sleep before Gabe gets up for work, then...

"Maaamaaaaa," he cries in his sleep, heartbroken, reaching for me in the dark. I pull him onto the couch with me, where he settles onto my chest like a newborn, listening to my heartbeat. The calm should soothe me back to sleep too but I'm losing control of my ability to function, and I start crying. Less than an hour of sleep? my body asks. No way, lady, my mind taunts, and I start to hyperventilate.

I haven't hyperventilated since the 8th grade.

Gabe calmed me and I layed there with Liam still on my chest. Feeling like a bad mom for having a meltdown while I am holding my sleepy child. I ask for some water. In the dark, I look down and see the faint light from the kitchen reflecting off of Liam's tired eyes. I run my hand over his golden hair and kiss his little lamb locks.

"I'm sorry you're not sleeping well," I whisper to him. "I'm not either. I know how you feel."

He shifts a little, resting his hand on my wrist as I keep smoothing his hair.

"I love you, Liam. I love you and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

More kisses.

"Did you dream of whales again?" I ask.

"No," he replies, and I'm glad he's listening.

"Did you dream of doggies? Of duckies? Of climbing mountains?"

Everyone who had children before me was always saying to me, Take in every moment. They grow up too fast.

Which is totally right, and I know that, but this 22-months-old thing isn't going so well so far. This phase is bringing broken sleep and OH MY GOUDA THE NAUGHTINESS. Our 22-month mark is making a cranky toddler and a hyperventilating mommy. I don't want time to fast-forward, I just want the kind of partnership between my son and I that leaves me feeling content and adequate. He seems to have forgotten about my little breathing episode and we had an easy day but I want him to only feel strength and comfort from me. Not panic and anxiety.

Those who've had babies before me say, You have no idea how bad it'll get, and I find no comfort at all in this normalcy.

Liam slept into the afternoon; a nice, long, misplaced nap. When Gabe got home from work we hopped into the car with him and swung by the grocery store. Liam sat in the little plastic car at the front of the shopping cart and steered around the aisles. While we were checking out, he started using his feet to steer and he stuck his little face through the window and shrieked, as if to say to me, "HOW AWESOME IS THIS???"

It is. It is awesome.

Today's Inventory

2009-04-07T19:40:00.001-04:00

Didn't get enough sleep. Liam was moving around and talking in his sleep all night.

Leaky diaper false alarm before we were ready to get up; slapped my head repeatedly.

Three tantrums by Liam within 10 minutes of waking.

One pee puddle on the bathroom floor next to the potty, also by Liam, in this same 10-minute time frame.

Three time outs.

While in time out Liam discovered he could reach my CDs so time out was not effective.

Time out spot was moved three inches, out of reach from CDs.

Wrestling matches occurred during every. single. diaper change.

Liam knocked the X-Box off of the TV.

Lots of kicks and defiance.

One piece of paper stuck up Liam's nose for at least twenty minutes. Feared surgical removal would become necessary when I was losing sight of the paper up his nostril; almost called the doctor.

QUIT MESSIN' WITH ME, TUESDAY! WHAT DID I DO TO YOU!!!

Danger Dad and the Flying Baby

2009-04-03T11:48:00.002-04:00

Danger Dad and the Flying Baby, and other recent photos for a lazy, foggy Friday post.

This is the now-infamous Danger Dad Official Photo. The reason I wasn't as psychotically scared as I should have been was what a freakin' awesome photo this stunt happened to make.

Liam is a budding artist, specializing in crayon art.

As this photo shows, he's also showing an interest in composition and sculpture. This particular arrangement is called Still Life with Crooked Cow.

This is how he feels when I photograph his work without prior permission. (Actually this is just his funny screechy face.)

Liam and I clap and make beats on our knees when we hear "Another One Bites the Dust."

Here we are hanging out on the couch after the Queen dance party.

Last but not least, this is the wet sticker he blew out of his nose one day when I noticed the extra attention he was paying to his nostrils. Ahh, motherhood.

I Hate April Fool's Day

2009-04-01T09:58:00.003-04:00

Unless there's something I have successfully blocked out all these years, no one's ever pranked me in a big way on April 1. That didn't stop me, though, from April Fool's Anxiety. Starting in seventh grade, I used to fake sick every year the holiday rolled around so I wouldn't have to go to school.

I guess I was afraid someone I didn't even know would trip me in the hallway, or slip a whoopie cushion under my bum- something everyone would eventually forget. Everyone but ME.

Looking back, I know there are other issues in my life that I should have focused my energy on, but tell that to a thirteen year old. Life is already hard enough.

A scene from The Virgin Suicides comes to mind- when the youngest Lisbon, Cecilia, is sitting across from a therapist. He says, "What are you doing here, honey? You're not even old enough to know how bad life gets." Straight-faced, she replies, "Obviously, Doctor, you've never been a thirteen-year-old girl." That strikes me right through the heart.

For the record, I'd like to state that most of my other sick days until I graduated from high school were legitimate. The sinus infections, the flu, the cramps, the migraines, THE MONO... all very real.

Oh, and there was Senior Skip Day. My friends and I had a pancake breakfast, went to the mall, and then Pizza Hut. Oh, the life.

Have you ever been pranked in such a manner that you still cringe at loud noises or dread the ringing of the telephone on April Fool's Day?

Why I Love My Husband, part 2

2009-03-26T23:35:00.003-04:00

(See part one here.)

I was on the couch, and Gabe was on the floor. He yawned. We made eye contact.

GABE: What!
NORA: What?
GABE: Are you spying on me?
NORA: Spying on you?
GABE: I saw you staring at me!
NORA: I looked at you right as you looked at me.
GABE: Creep.

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household hazards of the toddler kind

2009-03-25T20:16:00.003-04:00

"I'm sorry about the yelling, but he wouldn't listen. There was a tidal wave coming out of the tub. A tidal wave. And I got mad. He got my pants wet. My shirt. He got my head wet; the tidal wave reached my head. My head! I was engulfed." -Gabe Wolf, my husband, after bath time this evening.

I am so glad that bath time is daddy-son time.

I mean, look at this kid's moves.

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shame

2009-03-24T14:47:00.003-04:00

While watching the season finale of Jon and Kate Plus Eight last night:

GABE: Where are the twins?
NORA: I don't know.
GABE: Hm. [Thinks the conversation is over.]
NORA: I know. I bet Mady ate Cara so they sent her to juvy.

Then I laughed at myself really hard, then I felt bad for making fun of an eight year old girl who is obviously not ok.

It's easy to make assumptions and judgments about the Gosselins, and the Duggars, and the frackin' Octo-Mom, and all of the other parents who are doing things I would not. When comparing, I would lose track of everything I would do differently, either in my life or if I was in their situation. Becoming a parent opens you up to all sorts of criticisms and judgments, no matter what you're doing, and it's not fair- but those same parents who are made to build up defenses are trying to knock down the forts other parents build.

It's an ugly cycle.

I'm going to write more about this later, when I am not just minutes from the end of Liam's nap. I have things I'd like to talk about regarding the walls I have to build against criticisms and assumptions about me, and I have opinions I want to share about families who live their life on television.

In the meantime, tell me... do other parents make you cringe? Do you see moms and dads doing things ALL WRONG by your standards? Or are you able to always see objectively? What have you had to defend yourself against?

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Coffee & Counting

2009-03-24T11:08:00.003-04:00

I guess my coffee consumption is on the rise and Liam's heard me murmur "I need coffee," more than I realized because it's one of his words now. He pronounces it "coppee." Whenever I'm drinking from a white lidded up he points and says, "Coppee?"

When we're in the car and I pull into a drive-thru he starts repeating, "Coppee. Coppee? Cooooppee." I guess he recognizes all of the Dunkin Donuts all over town from his rear-facing position.

Last night Liam was talking about coffee again when we were trying to get him to drink his milk. Gabe handed him his milk cup and told him it's coffee. Liam took a gulp, said "Mmmmmm! Coppee!" and giggled. He drank all of his milk. Pretending is awesome.

This morning he was ignoring his milk again but the pretend-coffee trick didn't work. He was probably thinking, "This coffee tastes an awful lot like that boring-ass milk they give me every day and I'm in no mood to make-believe. I need me some COPPEE."

Maybe he's drawn to my change in mood after I have coffee. I relax and sigh, and inhale the aroma, and smile dreamily. I wish I was exaggerating. But I like coffee an awful lot lately. Liam's perceptive enough to know that mommy goes from tired and tense to relaxed yet productive after a medium coffee with skim milk and sugar.

ALSO CUTE: I've been counting with Liam when we play and read. I'll count his blocks, Goldfish crackers, dogs in a book. He's started counting too: "Doo, bee, doo, bee, doo, bee..."

Translation: Two, three, two, three, two, three... He'll get it.

adorable overload

2009-03-23T10:33:00.005-04:00

Liam gets to spend a LOT of time with me so naturally he's always way excited when Gabe's home. Liam loves waking up next to his daddy, automatically smiling and cooing, "Hi, Daddy. Daddy. Hi, Daddy." If Gabe is already in the shower when Liam wakes up he wastes no time getting out of bed and checking the bathroom for his favorite guy.

This morning Liam became restless as soon as Gabe got out of bed, and he stirred and cried in his sleep for a few minutes until he rolled over and opened his eyes. He pointed to a speck of something on the sheet, groaned, then made his surprised face when a loud car rumbled by. When I smiled he flung himself back into the crook of my arm, nuzzled his face close and gave me a sleepy smile. "Daddy. Hi, Daddy. Hi, Daddy."

I considered pretending for a bit, afraid to disappoint my sleepy babe, but decided to reveal my true identity. "Good morning, Liam. It's Mama. Mama loves you."

His eyes refocused on my face and he kept smiling, pushing his cheek against mine. "Mama," he sighed. "Hi, Mama. Hi, Mama."

We'll still be co-sleeping for a while.

This is the face Liam makes when I ask him to show me his teeth.

Lately he's been chirping, "Alloooo, alloooo," practicing his L sound, and he sounds like a little Frenchman (well technically he is). I am charmed since this is how some of my relatives say Hello.

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I don't even know what to call this one.

2009-03-20T22:43:00.006-04:00

So, my date with Mary Kay was not awful. There were two other young women there with me so the pressure was off of me to buy, sell and all that. As it turned out, the Mary Kay representative who approached me is kind of a Mary Kay celebrity- she created a special recruiting tool, she makes a more-than-decent living, and she has earned nine free cars. NINE FREE CARS!

Because she is so successful she did not pressure me as hard as the lady in Flower Mound to buy products or start attending meetings to become a consultant. (The Texas woman told me I do not need to see my fiance as much as I thought I did when I told her I hardly see him as it was. Ummm... thanks? for the advice...? Now go to marriage counseling with your hubs because you've lost The Spark.) Like, she actually took no for an answer, and that was that.

The best part was that I spent no money and just by attending I earned a free product I can actually use. It's a concealer/cover up specifically for the eyes so now I will look like I actually get enough sleep! This is a miracle. Heaven is shining upon my sleepy face.

The worst part about the evening was this.

Yeah, that would be my face. On the bright side (and I don't mean my shimmery eyelids), now I know which color scheme to use should I ever portray a hooker on stage. A dimly lit stage. Please note the four different glittered eye shadows PLUS blue eyeliner fit for a shiny Spandex-clad aerobics instructor circa 1985 PLUS a landing strip of blush.

That first photo doesn't show it well but I actually have eye shadow on my lower lid. It's green.

Do people actually do that??

Liam actually looked at me funny when I came home. When I entered the living room he happily called, "Mama!" and came at me with open arms. THEN HE SAW MY FACE and he stopped. That's not a good reaction from the one person in the world who thinks you're perfect. Gabe simply said, "Holy crap." Not Holy Crap I Want to Make Love to You, but HOLY CRAP WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR FACE.

I had planned originally to stop by the grocery store before coming home but I obviously couldn't go out looking like that. My skin never felt so virginal and pure after I washed it. And washed it again. And there was still glitter freckling my cheeks.

My pores had been strangled by foundation for over two hours and they took a deep sigh of relief. (And see what I mean about my eyes? I look like I sleep even less than I actually do.)

Today I took another photo of myself for this post to show my everyday makeup. Because I do wear makeup nearly every time I leave the house. Just not as much. Ever.

I know, it's not too different from my freshly-washed pic, and that's intentional. I don't want to look like someone else when I wear makeup. I want to look like me, but a little more polished, a little more well-rested. Every day I wear eyeshadow, mascara and lip gloss. When I'm feeling fancy I use some mineral powder to even out my skin tone (at least as much as it can be helped) and a touch of color on the apples of my cheeks. ONLY the apples. For special occasions I wear eyeliner if it suits what I am wearing.

I get more free stuff in a couple weeks when I model for the scar-blemish reduction seminar she's doing for the consultants she manages. Sooo... that's only one thing I didn't say no to! And it's a bit of a novelty when my face looks clear, so I still win. I think?

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Mary F. Kay (the F stands for a bad word, rhymes with 'sucking')

2009-03-19T14:50:00.007-04:00

I think that part of the Mary Kay training process involves education on how to pinpoint women who find themselves unable to say no, because I've been asked by strangers WAY TOO MANY TIMES if they can put makeup on my face.

True story: one woman approached me while I was working and actually said to me, TO MY FACE, "You know, you have such a beautiful face but your skin really detracts from your looks. I can help you with that." I sobbed on the inside, but only after I pictured myself jumping over the counter, screeching, and scratching her face with my dirty used-book hands and giving her a staph infection. I am pretty sure that it's not part of their training to give someone a compliment and then slap them across the face with it. She was just... stupid and mean. I was able to say no to her.

Then this lovely lady asked me if I wanted a free facial and I am so pretty and charming and wouldn't I make a great Mary Kay saleswoman! I was so pleased that she didn't tell me I have the complexion of moldy cottage cheese that I accepted her offer. I knew all along I didn't want to sell makeup but I thought, hey, free facial!

I arrived at her big, spotless home in Flower Mound, Texas, and thought, GO HOME NOW, GO HOME NOW, but she welcomed me in and sat me down at her dining room table, which was arranged with all the pink and white Mary Kay bottles, and she started my facial.

Oh, no, wait. You know what happened? I started my own facial. Because her whole agenda was teaching ME how to do my OWN face with HER products. If I had known that I'd be giving myself a facial at some lady's football field sized dining room table I would have said no. (Or at least tried to.) But I sat there and washed my own face in a bowl of water, applied the products, and then more makeup than I will ever need unless I am on stage or in the movies. Do you know what it's like to do all of this while someone's staring at you? It's a lot of pressure, considering I don't wear a ton of makeup and don't even know how to apply foundation evenly. I don't wear it!

Then she proceeded to try to recruit me to be a Mary Kay lady because don't I someday want to drive a pink Cadillac? (Um, that'd be a big NO.) She was relentless. I explained that I worked forty hours a week, had four classes plus a lab at school, AND was planning my wedding long-distance and I hardly had time to see my own fiance. I got a lot of bullshit reasons why I could and should do it, and I ended up feeling guilty enough to just buy something from her and leave. It was $19 face wash. I don't spend that much money on my SHIRTS and SHOES, never mind face wash or cosmetics. I'm such a pushover.

Anyway, I got home and it was the wrong face wash. It was a heavy, greasy cleanser for aging skin. Thanks, lady.

A couple weeks ago I was by myself at Walmart, browsing the pots and pans because I had just burned the bottom of my last sauce pan (while I was STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO IT!) and convinced Gabe we needed a new set. I started texting Gabe a price of the set I wanted, and this lady comes over and says excuse me. So I stepped out of her way and kept texting. Then she says, "Can I ask you something?" And I'm thinking, LADY. I'm wearing a red corduroy jacket and a green scarf. NOT a blue vest. I DO NOT work here. Then she launched into an approach for Mary Kay and inside I'm like, No, not again, please, not again! But she actually complimented my clothing, said I was cute and stylish, and I have beautiful eyes. Then she said, "Let me spoil you."

Now, ladies? Can you at least see the draw in this? You're a young, sleep deprived mom who's lucky to get a shower in, and someone says you're pretty AND stylish, and then the magic words: spoil you. SPOIL. YOU. And it's not some creepy man? You say yes. We'd all say yes, right?

(Or am I still a pushover? I know that line was probably in the training too but come on. I need to be spoiled. Even if it's with too much foundation and blush.)

I'm going to take her literally and assume "I'm going to spoil you," will not eventually mean "Here's a bowl of water, now GIVE YOURSELF A FACIAL." I'm going to be in her book, and I don't even know what that means, but I hope it doesn't mean she's going to kill me, put a frilly dress on me, give me some rouge and photograph me for her Book of Life Size Dolls I Made.

I have the appointment this evening. I'd rather walk and run again, but I hope I won't mind being "spoiled." And I better be back home in time to watch The Office!

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baby steps

2009-03-18T21:55:00.005-04:00

We can't afford the purchases right now but I've been researching different things that could help me in my spring and summer outdoorsy quest, and I found out that some bike trailers convert right into jogging strollers!

A single beam of light is shining upon my hopeful face.

I walked briskly and even jogged part of the way for 1.3 miles today when Gabe got home. I know that's not far or a big deal (I can actually hear some of your eyes rolling) but for me, in the states my mind and body are in now, it's kind of huge. Plus, like Gabe told me, I have to start somewhere.

Now, if only I hadn't consumed half a box of Bottlecaps today. And a doughnut (but it was only 49 cents with my coffee this morning!). And a coffee with cream and extra sugar (they actually have me the wrong one... whoever got my actual order was probably really pissed. I drank their coffee anyway.)

Tomorrow I'll be better. My walk/run has really done a lot for me already.

An overly productive Monday (by McCourtney-Wolf standards)

2009-03-16T15:14:00.004-04:00

So far today I have:

+ Slept in and snuggled in bed with Liam
+ Gotten us both ready in time for Gabe's lunch break so we could get the car for the afternoon
+ Eaten a well-balanced lunch
+ Drawn and read with Liam
+ Shipped two orders and found a post office that still has Edgar Allan Poe stamps in stock!
+ Purchased Liquid-Plumr
+ Wondered why they purposely misspell "plumber"
+ Liquid-Plumr-ed the bathroom sink
+ Resolved not to let as much of my hair go down the drain of the bathroom sink
+ Taught Liam how to say sealion (dee-lie!) and stingray (dee-ray!)

Later on I will:

+ Bring washed bedding to the laundrymat to dry
+ Wash and hang to dry another load of laundry
+ Scrub the tub and shower
+ Wash the dishes

I am currently contemplating:

+ ~~Cleaning up and vacuuming the living room before we go pick Gabe up from work~~ DONE!

ALSO. If you're in or near Maine you must, MUST go to the Portland Museum of Art for the Rock'n'Roll Photography exhibit. It ends on March 22, so hurry!

outdoorsy

2009-03-15T21:13:00.002-04:00

I am having ~~delusions~~ fantasies of wonderful outdoor things we can do this spring and summer, now that we live in a more temperate climate and Gabe has normal (not overnight like last summer) work hours.

I want the three of us to go hiking and biking and walking and swimming and running and all kinds of wonderful things that will keep our minds and bodies healthy.

I want a bike that isn't too tall for me, with a bike trailer for Liam to sit in. We'll bike everywhere.

I wish we owned a canoe or kayaks so we could paddle around Range Pond or the marshes in Scarborough.

I want us to take two walks a day! And not breathe heavy after coming back up the hill!

I'd love to have a jogging stroller!

I wonder if my Target sneakers would hold up through hiking Mt. Katahdin. Ha!

I want to be covered in sun block and bug spray until September!

I just want to GET OUT. We've spent the winter cooped up- we've stayed in the living room a lot, since it's the warmest room in our apartment. It's the warmest because it doesn't have any windows, because the windows here are old and seriously drafty. Drafty like, you walk by and feel a cold WIND. Even when it's not WINDY. This winter was ridiculous and we've got ants in our pants. (Please don't take that literally.)

And next winter? We're buying a plastic sled around Thanksgiving, since stores stop selling them right after Christmas (!!!). And I want to go cross country skiing all! the! time!

The weather is getting warmer and warmer- in the 40's and 50's some days!- and we've already gone on a few walks and breathed fresh air. Not fresh, five-degree air drafting in THROUGH our windows. But real, sunny, cool air. This week is supposed to be amazing, weather-wise, and I can't wait to keep getting out!

PostSecret

2009-03-14T21:34:00.003-04:00

This week I went to the PostSecret lecture at Bates College and yeah, I totally cried in public but I wasn't alone.

The PostSecret founder, Frank Warren, spoke about how and why he started the project and how it evolved into what it is today. He shared some of his favorite secrets that have been sent in as well as some secrets that can't be shared online or in the books, and then invited questions and secrets from the audience.

One girl said that she works in a grocery store, and whenever someone buys condoms she wonders what they're like in bed. If they buy the Trojan Magnums she can't help but look at their crotch.

Another girl's secret was that everything she did was for someone else- friends, family classmates- and that she didn't know how to live for or do anything for herself.

Someone said she was going to cosmetology school in hopes she can learn how to make herself as beautiful as her sister.

A young woman stood up and said, "My greatest desire is to get rid of my cell phone and laptop and move to a commune with my Latin professor, but I don't want anyone to think I'm a hippie."

A girl, in tears, said she had been laid off that day and was in a car accident on her way to the lecture and she wasn't sure how she was going to make it.

The one that made me cry (not just sniffle, but tears streaming down my face), and made the whole audience give out a sympathetic gasp/sigh was a girl who, the last time she'd seen her mother, told her she wished she was dead. A few days later, her dad called her to tell to her that her mom had passed away.

I didn't stand up and tell a secret at the lecture, but I am going to now:
The night before my grandmother died, I fell asleep before I said my prayers. I have always felt guilty about it as though I could have saved her with my prayer, even though she was sick anyway and I know this guilt is irrational.

I also have a silly secret: I think Liam's umbilical hernia (that healed on its own months and months ago) was the universe's way of punishing me for being so ridiculously freaked out by outties- or it could have been a simple lesson, like, "See? They're not so bad."

What's YOUR secret?

xoxo Nora

this week

2009-03-14T21:22:00.002-04:00

I forgot that on Monday morning Heather Armstrong was to appear on the Today Show for their Digital Moms segment with Meredith Viera. I read Dooce regularly so I was mad for a second, until I found the video on her blog anyway.

One thing I managed to remember this week (we slept right through our chance to go to story time at the library) was Cursive's appearance on Letterman last night. Cursive is one of my all-time favorite bands because TIM KASHER IS A CONSTANT BRILLIANT STORM.

And I love the strength and ache in his voice; his voice will always get me, whether he's singing Cursive songs or The Good Life.

Check out the new Cursive album, Mama, I'm Swollen, but don't be like Letterman and say it like it's a joke!

Channeling Gwen (before she went b-a-n-a-n-a-s)

2009-03-10T14:59:00.002-04:00

I got a new dress to wear to this past weekend's art show, and I LOVE LOVE LOVE it. I'm going to be wearing a lot when the weather allows.

I know this picture isn't full-length but you can get an idea:

I bought it because it reminds me of Gwen Stefani's dress in the video for "Don't Speak" which came out when I was in 8th grade. I have been looking for a similar dress since that time, and at the age of 27 I finally found a reasonable facsimile.

* DRESS: Dare I admit it? Taylor Swift for Walmart.
(I know. Part of my soul just withered.)
* EARRINGS: Passionflower on Etsy. CLICK IT!
* NECKLACE: a gift from my mother-in-law

pronunciation key

2009-03-09T14:08:00.003-04:00

One day Liam helped me fold laundry and he found my $1 Valentine socks, which he insisted I put on his feet immediately.

He is now twenty-one months old. Here's a list of some of his charming, inexact toddler talk:

apple = ab-oh, ab-ol
banana = mah-na
bath = bahh
belly = beh-ee
blanket = bank-ah
bunny = bah-ee
cheese = sshhhhh
chickpea = chi-pee
cookie = kee-kee
cup = dup
Daddy = Dah-ee
diaper = dipe or dipe-uh
eat = eeeeaT (emphasis on E and T)
fart = bart
go = goooooooo!
happy = abby or habby
hat = haT (emphasis on the T)
kick = tick
kitty = ditty
Mama = MuhMuh, MumMum, Mah-mee
more = mo-ah? (always a question)
morning = morrin
owl = owwa
pee = peeee-peeeeeeee
pickle = pucka
poop = pup
potty = paw-ee
sheep = deep
shoe = doo
sleep = deep
sorry = dorry
stop = dop!
tickle = tick-uh
toe = doe
turtle = torrel
uncle = ung-o
water = wah-er
whale = way-ohhhhhh

The words he has perfected are the ones he's been saying the longest, like book, dog and duck- but he also says Pop very well. Pop is my dad, Liam's Grandpop.

He's putting more words together, like "my cup"/"daddy's cup"/"i poop"/"kitty eat". So far his longest sentence is still "I did a poop."

By his second birthday he'll be reading and reciting full encyclopedia entries, I'm sure.

That is, if he doesn't get too busy pretending to sleep, like this:

Gabe-isms

2009-03-03T21:49:00.000-05:00

In his noble quest to broaden his food horizons (he's a self-proclaimed picky eater but I proclaim it for him too), Gabe recently discovered that not only does he like to drink grapefruit juice, he actually likes eating the fruit it came from.

Direct quote: "Why do they call it grapefruit? There aren't any grapes in it. Maybe they meant to say GREAT-fruit."

xoxo

Why I love my husband.

2009-03-01T16:39:00.003-05:00

Sometimes, when we're not ridiculously tired and Gabe doesn't fall asleep in the short time frame between going to bed and me turning off the lights and following him, we lay in bed and giggle and make fun of each other, which makes us giggle more.

Some frequent topics of our fun-poking:
... my giant nostrils that flare spontaneously while I am talking
... the weird, high-pitched rush of air that comes out before his laugh when he's tired
... my undying love for the song "To Be With You"
... the way he uses words wrong or mispronounces the right ones
... my impossible crush on John Krasinski
... the crush he doesn't have on Natalie Portman but I make fun of him for it anyway
... when we both fail at successfully making fun of each other

We're really sweet, I know.

Here is a recent exchange that occurred after I made fun of him for something that I can't even remember:

Gabe: Good night, jerk.
Me: Good night, jerkier.
Gabe: Good night, jerkiest.
Me: Good night, King of the Jerks Infinity.
[Then I cracked up.]
Gabe: Good night, my wife who acts twelve years old.

I love him so much.

Really? Two feet of snow on top of your car? REALLY?

2009-02-28T09:37:00.003-05:00

There are unwritten rules in these parts, where snow falls frequently between December and March (sometimes November to April), and comes in large quantities.

When you leave your house after a snowfall, you clear off your car in its entirety. You don't leave big snowcakes on your roof or your trunk, because those are bound to come off in chunks, and splat all over the windshield of the car behind you. It's unsafe.

This is how NOT to abide by unwritten rules:

Check out THAT snowpatty.

I took this photo from the driver's seat of my car earlier this week. Don't worry, we were at a complete stop as cars tried to finagle around towering snowbanks while pulling out onto the main street. This guy, of course, was trying to turn left across all the traffic. OF COURSE.

Why I love my dad.

2009-02-27T10:50:00.002-05:00

This is an example of the typical greeting my dad and I give each other when he calls me:

ME: Hello?
DAD: Heyyyyyy.
ME: Heyyyyyyy.
DAD: Hey, you.
ME: Yo!
DAD: What up?
ME: Nuttin, what up wit'choo?
DAD: Nada. What's up with you?
ME: I said, nuttin.

It takes us about five times as long to have this conversation than it would to just cut straight to the chase, such as:

ME: Hello?
DAD: Your mother and I are leaving in ten minutes to come pick up Liam.
ME: Ok, see you then.
DAD: Bye.

BORING!

I don't want my thirty seconds back. I'd rather have exchanges in half-ass English with my dad.

Sweet Liam

2009-02-22T22:24:00.003-05:00

Last night I was sitting on one end of the couch, I don't even remember what I was doing, while Gabe and Liam were on the other end, playing and cuddling. Liam comes walking over to me, shaky-kneed on the fluffy couch cushions, and he puts a strong hand on my shoulder to brace himself as he lifts a leg up to sit on my lap, facing me.

He plops down and smiles at me, and as I smile back he shrugs and falls into me for a cuddle. I hug him and tell him I love him, and what does he do? He looks me in the eyes, puts his little hands on my cheeks, and presses his nose up to mine. He shakes his head a little, the tips of our noses brushing in a sweet Eskimo kiss.

When he noticed me smiling, he did it harder, a smile spreading across his face, his eyes closing. He didn't let go of my face for a few minutes, and I giggled and cried.

Liam last year at this time...

Liam this year...