The Soggy Librarian

It takes one to know one

2012-01-13T17:56:00.000-08:00

The other day at work, I was riding the up escalator and I noticed a woman above me riding down, muttering to herself.

When we got level with each other, she looked me dead in the eye and said, "YOU CRAZY."

Hey look it's a whole different year

2012-01-08T17:59:00.000-08:00

Look at me, doing the new year's meme! I like to keep things timely around here. Tomorrow's post is going to be all about Hermain Cain.

I copied this from D, who helpfully combined a couple of these meme quiz list things and removed some of the dumber questions. Thanks, D!

1. What did you do in 2011 that you'd never done before?

My mind is blanking here. There must have been something. I know, I watched the first two seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation! Good times.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I think I resolve every year to clean up my potty mouth. It's going great! (It's not going great.)

Here are my resolutions for this year:

Stop using emoticons. (So far, this has been a success, but it's a bit of a struggle. I worry my emails sound too caustic. I'll read them over, then go back and try to rewrite them in the voice of a more pleasant person. It's tough to be a natural jerkface.)
Be nice.
Be thoughtful. (I think I resolve some variation of this one every year. Also going great!)

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Oh yes. Last summer was a fertile time in my peer group.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Ach, D, why didn't you get rid of this question? Would getting rid of the question be just as jinxy as answering no?

No, nobody close to me died.

5. What countries did you visit?
The countries of southeast Alabama, East Hampton, NY and Provo, UT. And if you don't think those are countries all unto themselves, well, I don't know what to tell you. Visit them and get back to me.

6. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

D said Baby G's birthday. I guess Soren's first birthday was this year, too. I should probably say that.

7. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Hmm. Maybe no one thing, but for various reasons I am feeling fairly happy about my professional life and prospects lately. I'm going to present at a conference in a couple of months--something that is no big deal, but I haven't ever taken the time to do before. And it looks like I'm going to be doing another cool job thing in the spring, which I will tell you about when it's a sure thing.

Also, my child survived another year of my parenting.

8. What was your biggest failure?

There are definitely a couple of long-distance friends that I have been letting down lately. Horrible.

9. Did you suffer illness or injury?

I got the flu one time. Woe is me.
10. What was the best thing you bought?

Plane tickets to Hawaii. We haven't used them yet but I feel confident they were an investment that's going to pay off.

11. Whose behavior merited celebration?

D applauded her friends without kids, and I would like to second that. I love my friends with kids, obviously, and playdates are the best. But we breeders are such a pain in the arse to fancyfree childless people. I really, really appreciate that my friends are so patient with me, and hardly ever comment on the Soren-goo I usually have smeared on my right shoulder.
12. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Lady Edith on Downton Abbey! She is the worst. You start to feel sorry for her and then all of a sudden--nope. She reminds you that she sucks.

13. Where did most of your money go?

Let us not speak of depressing things.
14. What song will always remind you of 2012?

The Elmo theme song.

15. Compared to this time last year, are you:
happier or sadder? happier
thinner or fatter? fatter
richer or poorer? poorer, although this is sort of a matter of perspective I suppose

16. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Lounging on sunny beaches drinking cocktails.

17. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Being a complain-y jerkface.

18. How did you spend the holidays?

On my parents' farm. I have never seen anybody more in love than my parents are with Soren.

19. Did you fall in love in 2011?

Yes! With Parks & Rec! That show got so good and nobody told me.

20. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?

If you wear lots of different tights people might not notice that you only own three skirts.

21. Whom did you miss?

My parents--I have new guilt about raising my kid so far away from them. My East Coast friends.

22. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.

I can do things. Creative things, professional things. Things.

23. What did you do on your birthday?

I don't remember. Oh my. I'm sure it was lovely.

24. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

A housefire.

25. What kept you sane?

I don't think I stayed sane. Let's add this to the list of goals for 2012.

Christmas card greed

2011-12-19T14:56:00.000-08:00

Until yesterday, I had been a little bit sad because we had gotten very few holiday cards. I am assuming that this is because everyone sent them to our old house, and the post office, god love them, has stopped forwarding our mail.* (An assumption that is preferable to the idea that everyone just crossed us off their list this year.) It's no big deal, of course; it just felt like the final "Fuck you" from our old house. (Hopefully the final one. That house better leave me alone if it doesn't want its ass burned to the ground.**)

But then yesterday, we got a nice little flurry of cards. And when I got to work this morning, a lovely little bottle of Maker's Mark was waiting for me. Could a person have better friends and coworkers? No, a person could not.
I seriously am like, one of the top seventeen luckiest people around. Sorry to go all Christmas sappy on you, but facts are facts and as a Scientist of the Library, it is my duty to report them.

*I'm not really complaining. I know the the P.O. has its own problems.
**I wouldn't really burn that house down, federal government. I understand that some ladies live there now and I'm sure they're very nice.

A fun Christmas game for the whole family

2011-12-11T14:59:00.001-08:00

Lately whenever I see those inspirational sayings on church signs, I have been finishing them with "in your butt." Sort of like the "in bed" thing with fortune cookies, you know. For example:

"A gift is not a gift until given [in your butt]."
"Mary wrapped the first Christmas gift . . . isn't it time you accepted it [in your butt]?"
"A diamond is a piece of coal that stuck to its job [in your butt]."

See?! It's magic. This is my holiday gift to you--one that will keep on giving. You're welcome.

spiked

2011-12-08T20:01:00.000-08:00

I have been of two minds about the current holiday season.

Mind #1: Pretty stressed. Flights to the deep, deep South? Expensive. My relationship with my brother? Complicated. Plus, I feel like every year, I have at least one epic Christmas Fail. Last year, there were two; one involved gift giving to the in-laws, and the other was that I somehow did not send a Christmas card to my uncle, who is one of like three people who would actually give a shit about getting one.
These are the things that make my stomach hurt in the middle of the night.

On the other hand, there is

Mind #2. Which can't help but be delighted by how delighted Soren is about Christmas. For example, we got our tree almost a week ago, and he still hasn't gotten over the fact that there is a TREE inside our house. Also? It has lights on it! He points them out to me every morning. "Light! Light! Light!"

On the subject of the main in the red suit, he was less enthusiastic. I believe his exact words when placed on that lap, screaming as if in agony, were "MOMMY! MOMMY! PLEEEEEEEASE!!"

So, I am trying to be the normal human and let Mind #2 be the winner. It's mostly working, aided by spiked egg nog and a little bit of Vince Gauraldi.

preemptive nostalgia

2011-10-26T15:45:00.000-07:00

Soren is so magic right now. There are a lot of interesting people in the world, but I must tell you that I believe the vast majority of them are eighteen months old. Every day, new words! Dozens of them! New levels of understanding about the world! New loves and hatreds! New tantrums to throw! It is an exciting time.

I'm sort of nostalgic about the time we're having with him right now, even though it is still happening. I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of stages that I really enjoy but this one has brought home to me why every parent thinks their kid is a genius--all 1.5-year-olds are geniuses. (Well, most of them. Let's not name names.)

Things he loves: being outside, reading books ("Bookies!" I have no idea where that came from, I swear), Elmo, naming things, bathtime, Julia (his daycare provider), Daddy, and Mommy. (It's true, I am super popular. I think it's because of my good looks and sparkling wit.)

Things he does not love: getting dressed, coming inside, diaper changes, waiting for his breakfast to be ready (HE HASN'T EATEN IN LIKE 12 HOURS HE'S STARVING TO DEATH ABUSE ABUSE OMG), getting into his carseat, transitioning from book time to bath time, naps.

Apples are okay though.

Not part of the plan

2011-07-19T17:19:00.000-07:00

Number one teen book to never ever read: Halo, by Alexandra Adornetto.*

"An angel is sent to earth on a mission. But falling in love is not part of the plan."

*Seriously? Adornetto? Oookay.

Very exciting post about moving! A must read!!

2011-07-18T15:38:00.000-07:00

This move has been a bit of a saga. As those of you who have been breathlessly following each twist in the story will recall, we were originally supposed to move at the end of the month. But then last week our hot water heater exploded and died. Time to move! We managed to reschedule the movers for this weekend--but alas, they scheduled us for the wrong day. So there was a lot of standing around amongst packed boxes and sleeping on air mattresses and whatnot.

Finally, by about 6:00 last night, all of our stuff was about three miles north of its previous location. Currently we are living amongst a bewilderment of boxes. But I got to watch the sun rise over the Cascades this morning while I unpacked my clothes, so we're cool.

As one of the movers was maneuvering our giant television (not a flat screen--perhaps you've seen one on a historical television series such as The Wonder Years?) out of the van, he asked, "You want this in the house?" I'm sure he figured that our real television was hidden somewhere, and we were just transporting this one to go into Mr. A's Man Cave.

They were also a little bit chagrined by how many records we (and by "we" I mean Mr. A) own. "Haha I sure am glad most people switched to cds hahaha!" I think what he really meant was, "CHRIST ALMIGHTY HAVE YOU NOT HEARD OF DIGITAL DOWNLOADS OWWWWWCH."

Have you ever hired movers, though? Did you know that they are insanely cheap? They moved all of our stuff--and there was a ton of it, about 80% garbage--for like $430. That's barely more than a U-Haul, and it took three hours.

Things I Have Learned in My Adult Life:

1. Hire movers.
2. Don't pick at it.

Aaaaaaaaaand that's about it.

sock sack

2011-07-06T15:47:00.000-07:00

I have nothing bad to say about the past week (week!!1!!omg) weather-wise. It has been 100% gorgeous at all times. We went to the woods for the long holiday weekend, and I remembered that part of what makes living here tolerable is going into the woods a lot. I like the trees and the moss and the ferns. Watching the rain dribble down into the city sewers is just depressing, but in the forest even the rain is okay. You sort of get the point of it.

So, at the end of this month we are moving. Into a house with eleven (!!!) closets. You guys. There is a broom closet, a coat closet, a linen closet. There are giant huge closets everywhere. I understand that being excited about closets is about as bougie as it gets, but I don't care. I'm sick of keeping my socks in a sack.

Foreign preschool children

2011-06-28T14:33:00.000-07:00

The weatherman swears on a stack of holy bibles and his mother's grave and his boyscout honor that starting at the end of this week, it will be sunny. For like, a while. If he is lying, I will track him down and give him such a pinch. SUCH A PINCH.

Because isn't it weird how weather forecasters always take personal credit for good weather? Like they are weather gods, rather than weather-guessers? What's pathetic is that the weather they take credit for in Seattle isn't even all that good. Mr. A. noted a forecast from a couple weeks ago in which the weatherman bragged that it actually might not rain and "if anything, it would just be like it was spitting on you." Really? Just like being spat upon? My, that is something to look forward to. Thank you, weatherman.

Are you tired of talking about the weather? Seriously, this is nothing, I could go on all day. (Ask anyone. I'm a super interesting conversationalist!) But okay, fine, new topic.

These days we spend a lot of time filling Soren in on what the animals say. Have you ever noticed how many things it's possible for the same animal to say? Like, I felt very confident explaining that chicks say "peep peep," until I heard Mr. A. telling him that they say "cheep cheep," which I have to admit is more accurate. I think we can all agree that ducks quack, but what about birds? I mean, you can say that they tweet or whatever, but what Soren is mostly spotting are crows saying "AAAAAAAAAAAK AAAAAAAAAK." And don't even get me started on all of the different things dogs can say, it's hopeless.

I learened all the barnyard animal sounds in French 101, but the only one I remember is the French duck, which says "coin coin." It actually sounds almost exactly like "quack quack" if you leave off the last hard k sound. This website concurs, but it also claims that English elephants say "baraag," so maybe the whole thing is an elaborate joke designed to make foreign preschool children feel foolish.

Hoo wee

2011-06-25T13:28:00.000-07:00

So, it's almost July. Our heater clicked on three times this morning. THREE TIMES. Soren spent most of last week with a temperature of 104. I've given up wearing a coat every day, because just looking at a coat fills me with rage, so I'm always cold. All the blogs I read are like "Hoo wee can you even stand the heat?! It's so sunny and warm all day and all of the night!! I'm dyin' ovah heah!"

Fuck those people.

Excuse me. That kind of language is uncalled for. Make sweet, gentle love to those people. If you must.

At this point, it isn't even a question of waiting for summer to start. It's the panicked feeling that in two months it's going to be OVER, and we've only had about five decent days. How is it that the assholes already have all the warmer climates (in the U.S.) staked out? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be surrounded by Republicans/Nascar fans/Botox victims. Right? If I could just warm up a little tiny bit.

Sometimes being a librarian is okay

2011-06-06T13:42:00.000-07:00

Cutest girl ever: Can we hang out over here in the Teen Center? We're, like, pre-teens.

Me: What grade will you be in next year?

Her: Sixth.

Me: Absolutely!

Her: AWESOME. This is the coolest library in the world.

dummies

2011-05-25T13:09:00.000-07:00

The fun with our house continues. The thing, as Mr. A. points out, is that we are both stupid AND conscientious. You can be one, or you can be the other, but both is pretty much a disaster. The possibility of us getting smarter seems remote, so I'm thinking we may have to reconcile ourselves to being horrible people. Something's gotta give.

In far better and more important news, Soren is walking all over the place, and he's got a few words down. All he wants to do is be outside. Outside, happy; inside, tears. When we must bring him inside (as we often must because IT NEVER STOPS RAINING HOLY CHRIST THIS WINTER IS KEELING ME), the only way to distract him is with a book. He likes his animal books the best, and seems to be able to identify dogs ("duh!") and owls ("ow!").

Just for the local NPR nerds: this kerfuffle makes me sooo happy. I hope it ends horribly for Steve Scher.

Kids, man

2011-05-01T11:19:00.000-07:00

Soren turned one last week. Can you believe it? No, you cannot. It is an impossible but true science fact.

He has developed some pretty awesome abilities over the last month or so. Most impressive to his librarian parents, he has developed a deep interest in books. I've been pushing them since day one, but he's only ever been interested in them as teethers. But now he'll pick one out, climb into your lap, and wait for you to begin. He likes to turn the pages for you. He also likes reading to himself, though. He'll flip carefully through Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb (his current favorite), studying each page and babbling to himself. (Reading!) And he laughs when gets to a page he thinks is funny. Kids, man!

Ten rounds

2011-04-04T09:23:00.000-07:00

Well, we learned the answer to last week's question. Would daycare tell us if he started walking there? Yup. They would.

First, a little background. Soren has been trying to walk for a while, but he is not great at it. He's gotten pretty good at moving around the room holding onto the furniture and walls, but sometimes he gets overconfident and things go awry. When they do, he tends to fall on his face (literally). He's in the 15th percentile for weight, you see, but the 75th percentile for head size. So he's a bit top-heavy. And he's a pale man like his parents, so he bruises beautifully.

For several weeks our daycare has been none too subtly suggesting that we are horrible parents for letting him get these injuries. "Have you seen these?!" they would say with their lovely Spanish accents, pointing to his face. "So many! I think more than yesterday!"

We get all embarrassed. "Yes, well, we usually catch him but you know, he's pretty quick . . ."

One of them said to Mr. A., "This baby looks like he's gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson!" To which Mr. A thought but did not say, "I'm pretty sure Mike Tyson could kill this baby with just one punch."

ANYway. When Mr. A arrived to pick Soren up at daycare last week, the daycare providers were somewhat subdued. The good news, they said, was that Soren had taken his first steps!

The bad news was that those steps had ended in a giant goose egg over (and under) his right eye.

It doesn't look too bad in this picture, actually.

The other good news is that the daycare ladies don't say anything about the bruises anymore.

From the technology news desk

2011-03-28T10:23:00.000-07:00

Soren is so much fun to hang out with these days. There were days not too long ago when I would drop him off at daycare without much regret, grateful to have a ticket back to Grownup Land. But now! He's so interested in everything, and almost almost walking, and not quite talking. I'm missing so much. Also, he cries when I leave, which sucks.

What if his first step and first word both happen at daycare? I wonder if they will even tell us. I probably wouldn't, if I were them. Better to let the parents live in happy ignorance of everything they're missing.

**
**

From the technology news desk, my sloppy parenting in regard to my previous iPod was rewarded with a brand new iPod. It's my first touch screen device ever, and I feel so very modern. I was amazed that it has a pedometer that works, although I guess if you have a smart phone there's an app for that, right? Probably not very impressive.

Which brings me to our second major story from the technology desk: I am getting my very first smart phone. Can you even believe what an early adopter I am? We're getting fancy Droid phones that I guess would work in Paris, if we were to ever go to Paris.

We turned in Soren's passport paperwork this weekend, so who knows where we'll jet off to this summer. Someplace exotic, no doubt. Like Vancouver!

My baby ate my iPod

2011-03-15T10:55:00.000-07:00

Well, not so much "ate" as "slobbered into submission." The heartbreaking thing is that it still plays, but the screen display doesn't work, so I can't get where I want to go.

I hadn't realized quite how much I have come to treasure my forty minutes of podcast-listening on the bus, but dear god, now that it's gone I can barely stand to go on living. There's not a lot of alone time in my life right now, so "alone" with fifty commuting strangers and my imaginary radio friends who don't know me at all is as close as I get.

It's my own fault about the iPod, of course. One of my defining characteristics as a parent is my laziness, and in some ways I think that parental laziness is a good thing. I don't want to be one of those parents who feels they must intervene every other minute in an attempt to ensure that their child is developing at maximum velocity.

But. It's probably better to be paying close enough attention to make sure that one's child is not ingesting personal electronic devices. If not for the child, then certainly for me.

Endless cornholing

2011-03-11T10:34:00.000-08:00

You know how I know I'm old? I like a lot of these dresses, but I look at every single one and think, too short! Waaaaaay too short. That is not a dress, sweetie, it is a shirt. (It's impossible to even read that sentence without hearing the granny voice in your head, isn't it?) I'm pretty sure I can see underpants. Also, are we really supposed to be sporting the fashions of Naomi from Mama's Family this season? I don't think I can get on board with that.

Luckily I can't afford any new clothes so these dilemmas are strictly hypothetical.

**
**

This weekend begins my new life of having every other weekend off. I was at the end of my rope with the working every single weekend thing, and I'm a little bit dizzy with the freedom of having two whole days off with the family. We have about a hundred things planned: brunch, zoo, karaoke, etc. (Well, Soren might skip the karaoke. He just can't ever remember how the songs go--it gets embarrassing.)

We're also having an open house this Sunday, so swing on by! It's not a great house, but the price is right. Plus it has, as our realtor pointed out in the listing, "Large lot perfect for endless games of croquet!" We have played croquet there, but in recent years our yard has mostly featured cornhole tournaments. I guess "perfect for endless cornholing" doesn't conjour up quite the same image of Edwardian aristocracy for prospective buyers.

Arrived

2011-03-09T13:30:00.000-08:00

I used to think it was challenging to get both the baby and myself out the door with no major stains on our clothes or crackers in our hair. But that was kid stuff. Actually challenging? Doing the same, while also making sure the house is left in pristine condition for prospective buyers.

Soren has actually been a little angel the past couple of mornings, dutifully crawling around, pulling himself up, and chewing on the furniture. Almost as fun as having a puppy! But there are still mornings when he has to be held the entire hour before we leave. I've gotten good at applying mascara while balancing a baby on one hip. When I can put on eyeliner the same way I'll know I've truly arrived.

Don't even have a baby

2011-03-05T15:58:00.000-08:00

Today was an exciting day at the library. First, I got asked out on a date by a gentleman named Swan. Well, to be more accurate, I guess he asked me to ask him out on a date. He suggested that I show him around some of my favorite area bars when I got off work. When I told him that I had to go home to feed my baby,* he said, "I don't even HAVE a baby to go home to."

Later, a crazy drunk woman came to hang out in the Teen Center with her son. Her son seemed like a sweet kid and I can only imagine that he was silently dying of embarrassment as his drunk (or possibly drugged) mom cursed our printing system up and down. To be fair, our printing system is indeed an asshole, but still, lady. Have some mercy on your thirteen-year-old kid.

*I don't know why this is the excuse I went with, except that it's true.

Whew.

2011-02-26T16:39:00.000-08:00

I felt terrible this week, and I had to take care of my kid, who felt just as terrible (probably worse), all by myself. Also, we were trying to get our house on the market. It was a hard week, filled with doctor visiting and nose-wiping and a desperate, futile battle to keep the house clean. I felt very sorry for myself.

But now it's over, and I'm back at work. (Well, over for me--Poor Mr. A. now has a cold and is home alone with still semi-sick Soren. S4, we're calling him now.) I sound like your cigar smoking granny, but I feel okay. And there is stuff coming up to look forward to.

Soon I'll stop working every weekend, which means more daycare time for Soren, but also more time for us to spend as a family and with friends. (Friends! Call me! I swear sometimes I answer the phone.) Because of the scheduling vagaries of the library, there will also be two days a month when I'm off, but daycare is already paid for. So I can drop Soren off for at least part of the day and then, oh my, the possibilities boggle the mind. Go out to lunch someplace without high chairs! Linger in stores! Nap.

I feel guilty for how excited I am about those two days, but my guilt is tempered by the knowledge that I will mostly spend them cleaning the house.

blerg

2011-02-22T08:52:00.000-08:00

Since I work every weekend right now, I took vacation days a few weekends over the past few months so that we could hang out together as a family, get things done, maybe go away to the mountains. This past weekend was the last one, and now I am a perfect three for three: sick for all of my winter mini-breaks. So no mountains, and not much has gotten done.

Generally Soren has been sick too, which makes for extra good times. We spent most of Sunday at an urgent care because he was running a really high fever. Now I think we both have sinus infections. Whee!

You want to know how bad a parent I am? I wished I could go to work sick today, rather than stay home sick with a sick baby. It would be more restful. I know, I'm the worst.

In happier news, The Amazing Race is making all my dreams come true this season. They brought back all my favorite teams! The Globetrotters! The Cowboys! Mel & Mike! I could plotz.

Baby toy

2011-02-13T10:59:00.000-08:00

It took Soren forever to learn how to crawl, so I sort of thought he'd be on the slow track to gross motor skillfullness. But in just the past week, he's gone from being able to hold onto something when we stand him up, to pulling himself up to standing, to cruising around the living room holding on to furniture.

The other day I was mentally congratulating myself that we have actually done a pretty good job with the babyproofing. No sooner did I have the thought than I turned around and saw what Soren was playing with--one of those giant lighters used for the fireplace. So basically, a flame-thrower. The perfect baby toy.

Sucker

2011-02-07T14:40:00.000-08:00

Lately, when we're hanging out on the floor banging stuff against other stuff (as we so often like to do), Soren will crawl over to me and put his head down in my lap. Then he looks up at me, smiles, and hugs my leg. Like hey, this playtime is going great, but I need a quick snuggle break.

Talk about heart-melting. At least he's still too young to ask for money.

Exciting weather news: During my lunch break half an hour ago, I went for a walk in the sun. Now the library is being pelted with hail. Or possibly just incredibly pissed off rain.

Eleven letter

2011-02-02T10:23:00.000-08:00

Being a grown up is strictly for the birds. This morning I was grateful to see an ESL patron who always asks me how to pronounce words because I knew that at least her questions would be softballs. Today's words, in case you are interested: "eleven" and "letter." I pronounced both of them beautifully.

In a disturbing development, lately I have found myself throwing a lot of thumbs up. Have I become the kind of person who throws a lot of thumbs up? Jesus.

Mr. Popular

2011-01-24T13:28:00.000-08:00

Turns out it's true what they say--they grow up fast. Soren has been crawling around for a couple of weeks now, eager to find as many electrical cords, coins, receipts, clumps of cat fur etc. as possible and cram them in his mouth. He was recently felled by a double ear infection and the croup (no shit, apparently there is still croup in the 21st century), but even that didn't slow him down for long. He is a smiley guy. He smiles at strangers in the grocery line, on the bus, wherever. He is popular.

p.s. I started a book blog. Well, I started it and then it kind of languished but I am seriously for reals starting it now.

A little window

2011-01-11T09:13:00.000-08:00

Getting Soren and myself out the door in the morning with clothes on and noses wiped has become a Sisyphean task. If you'd like a little window into my world, try doing your entire morning routine while carrying around a 20 lb. bag of flour. When you come to a task you just can't perform with the flour in your arms, no problem, just put it down! But at the same moment, play a recording of fingernails on a chalkboard. Turn the volume all the way up. Proceed with your task until you can't stand the noise anymore. Pick up your bag of flour.

This is an imperfect demonstration of how my mornings actually go because your bag of flour will not, it is to be hoped,* attempt to grab and swallow your mascara wand while it (the flour) balances on your left hip as you apply your eye makeup with one hand. (If it does, you'll probably want to go ahead and take it back to the QFC because that is the sign of either a very serious weevil problem or, only slightly less likely, haunted flour.)

*Does anyone else remember Claudia Kishi's annoying, know-it-all older sister, who once informed Kristi that "hopefully" is the most widely misused word in the English language? Don't say The Babysitter's Club never taught me anything.

Clever

2011-01-09T13:15:00.000-08:00

The Year of the Whole New Me is going mediocrely so far. I'll have little bursts of enthusiasm or creativity, but they are quickly squelched by exhaustion/irritating emails/crying baby. Also, January in Seattle is generally what the scientists refer to as "shitty." It's cold and damp and DARK and what I'd really like to do is curl up somewhere drinking coffee until it's time to start drinking beer. But people keep expecting me to show up for work. (Also, it is my understanding that this would not be a healthy way of life.)

In news that's not about me, today is Mr. Awesome's birthday. Happy birthday Mr. Awesome! I was a clever girl to marry you.

Flop scoot

2011-01-04T11:51:00.000-08:00

Soren seems to have developed separation anxiety. Whenever Mr. A and I are out of his line of sight, he screams as loud as he can (which is about as loud as anyone) and then collapses into tears. He's also furious that he still can't crawl, so he'll sort of flop/scoot after us in a pathetic attempt to catch up, screaming all the while. It's fun for everyone.

Lest it sound as though we needlessly torture the baby, most of this happens when he's playing on the floor with his toys and I commit the heinous crime of, say, stepping into the bathroom to blow my nose. Our house is only 780 square feet total so it's not like I'm incredibly far away.

Other things Soren doesn't care for right now: putting on shirts, taking off shirts, putting on pants (taking them off is usually okay), putting on pajamas, drinking from a bottle, drinking from a sippy cup.

On the bright side, he's usually a pretty happy guy when we're not messing with him.

The separation anxiety so far does not apply to daycare--he always seems stoked to be there. In fact, there has been more than one morning when I dropped him off and his whole air was, "FINALLY, somewhere where people understand me."

Also, he does great in the car now. For months, he behaved as though his car seat were made out of fire, but now he seems to be as happy there as anywhere. We went away to the mountains for new years, a two-and-a-half hour drive each way, and he did just fine. Mainly because he is obsessed with these things, which I fed him steadily throughout the trip:

Creepy packaging, but apparently delightful to the baby palette.

Year end survey, 2010

2011-01-02T11:52:00.000-08:00

Someone should make a new one of these that doesn't have that stupid one night stands question.

1. What did you do in 2010 that you'd never done before?
I made a person.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don't even know about last year. I could look it up but that would require several clicks' worth of effort. I made some new ones, yes.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Pretty close.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No.

5. What countries did you visit?
Does south Alabama count as a foreign country?

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?
A full night's sleep.

7. What date from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Well, there was that one sort of eventful day in April.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I guess I'll have to go back to making a person, although I'm not sure that really counts as an accomplishment. I'm having a hard time coming up with anything else, though.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Not sending out a few cards, of the thank you and sympathy variety. I writhe about it at night, but it seems too late now.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Um. The C-section wasn't great, but it wasn't exactly an injury I guess.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
A glider! Not really, but I do like that glider. I think every beer I bought was the best thing.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
All of the friends and family who brought us food, gifts, emotional support, and generally made the whole baby thing possible.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Some of the boss type people in this here library system. That's right. I said it. You appall and depress me.

14. Where did most of your money go?
To the mortgage.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Going snowboarding this past weekend! Also, we kind of looked forward to the baby.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?
This song always makes me think of Soren being born. Although I guess it's really more or less about addiction. So there you go.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
- happier or sadder? happier
- richer or poorer? poorer
- thinner or fatter? thinner! What with not being pregnant and all.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Exercise. I have a new understanding of the phrase "not enough hours in the day."

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
I'm tempted to say, "complaining about work," but the truth is I enjoyed every minute of my complaining. I wish there had been less to complain about.

20. How did you spend the holidays?
Christmas with the Awesome family in Utah, and New Year's Eve snowboarding at White Pass--a beautiful, clear blue day. Good times all around.

21. Did you fall in love in 2010?
Yes.

22. How many one-night stands?
0.

23. What was your favorite TV program?
My favorite tv program that we watch on the real tv is 30 Rock, I guess, although Community is a very close second. We're currently working our way through the entire series of Voyager on dvd, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Yes! Well, as my pious friend Mary in Catholic school used to say, "'Hate' is a very strong word." I am appalled and depressed by people that I was not appalled and depressed by at this time last year.

25. What was the best book you read?
The best grown up book I read this year was A Visit From the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan. Wait, does this mean best book I read this year, or best book I read that was actually published this year? I always get confused. Anyway, Good Squad was good.

26. What was your favorite film of this year?
Movies? What are those?

27. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?
Cheapskate Maternity transitioning into Aw Crap Nothing I Own Fits Me At All.

28 Whom did you miss?
My college friends who live on the Other Coast. My parents. My coworker who works at a different branch now.

29. Who was the best new person you met?
Soren is a pretty cool guy.

30. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.
Sometimes medicine really is the answer.

Resolutions

2010-12-28T18:47:00.000-08:00

I haven't made any new year's resolutions in quite some time, but I hereby declare 2011 The Year of the New Me. Here are all of the amazing things that I will accomplish.

1. Extreme Thoughtfulness.
Believe it or not, I've been working really hard on the thoughtfulness front, and I do think I've made some progress. Unfortunately, I've gotten approximately twelve to the tenth times busier this year, so the net results haven't necessarily been that impressive. I can do better.

2. Writing.
Here and elsewhere.

3. Not Letting Work Bug The Crap Out Of Me.
Good luck with that, self!

4. Getting Rid Of This Mother Effing House.

5. Getting Hair Cut.
I know, I know, that's more of a to-do list item. I need one gimme on this list for encouragement, okay?

Okay.

Happy New Year, Intertubes. May you be gloriously unclogged in 2011.

Ho ho homicide

2010-12-20T16:41:00.000-08:00

That's the title of a display that the Fiction department put up this month. I love the Fiction department's displays. They express my feelings perfectly.
We weren't going to get a Christmas tree. Then there was a phone call in which my mom made it clear that not getting a tree for Soren's first Christmas was tantamount to child abuse. So, overwhelmed by guilt, I went to Safeway and got one of those little potted fir shrub things and decorated it within an inch of its life.

It ain't much, but it's ours.

"Thank you"

2010-12-13T09:33:00.000-08:00

It seems to have stopped raining for the moment, both inside and outside our house. So that's good news. We just got this email from our home insurance company:

Dear Mr. Awesome,

I wanted to take a quick moment and "thank you" for taking time out of your day to speak with me. I realize that sustaining damage to your property can be unsettling. If there is anything that I can do to assist you further, please do not hesitate to respond to my e-mail or call me direct on my work phone.

Do you think our friend the insurance claims representative is being intentionally sarcastic? Like, "Thanks A LOT bitchez, now I have to come all the way out to your stupid piece of crap house just to tell you that there is no way we're going to cover this damage. I was enjoying a delicious crossandwich from BK and now my day is ruined."

**
**
From the Soren News Desk: He is fascinated by his new tooth. He's constantly poking his tongue at it, making him look like a little lizard. I guess if he were actually a lizard he would not be little, but would be an enormous eighteen pound lizard of terror. In people terms though, still small.

Our roof is leaking.

2010-12-12T16:07:00.000-08:00

Also the basement, but that happens pretty often in Seattle. Our basement isn't finished, which normally is a drag but at least we don't have to worry about ruining our luxurious family room wall-to-wall carpeting or anything.

The roof thing is a problem though. It's raining in our kitchen cupboards. Raining delicious water infused with lead paint and roof tiles.

You know what? I'm just going to say it. Our house is an asshole and I don't want to be friends with it anymore.

Meghan and me

2010-12-07T16:47:00.000-08:00

You guys really shouldn't encourage me. But since you asked . . .

People tend to get confused about whether to use "I" or "me" with a compound subject or object, like "Meghan and me" or "Meghan and I."* It's really easy to figure out, though--just take Meghan out of your sentence and whichever sounds right, is right. So, "Meghan and I went to the movies" (I went to the movies) but "The movie was too crowded for Meghan and me" (The movie was too crowded for me). You'd never say "The movie was too crowded for I" because you'd sound like a crazy person.

See? I'm the most annoying person on earth. My grammar nut mom was my English teacher in middle school (oh god it was horrible, the stories I could tell you), and now I have to spend the rest of my life fretting over stuff like this. It's amazing that I have friends.

*This is an quotation pulled straight from seventh grade. I would begin sentences with "Meghan and me" just to show my mom that her grammar rules couldn't hold me. I was a tween rebel.

lists

2010-12-05T15:47:00.000-08:00

Words/grammar issues I'm trying not to be annoyed by anymore, because being annoyed by them makes me annoying:

1. "Hubby."
2. "Literally," when there is no way what the speaker is saying could be understood in a figurative sense.
3. "I" used improperly in place of "me," as in "The gift is from my husband and I."
4. Most of the abbreviations used by mommy bloggers, commenters, etc. (CM for cervical mucus? Really? You're typing that so many times you need an abbreviation? Okay, sorry--I guess I'm missing the point here.)

Words I want to phase out:
1. Awesome.
2. Rad.
3. Like.
4. Totally.
5. All other late-1980's Valley girl speak.

Words I want to phase in:

1. Swimmingly. (As in, "It's going . . . ")
2. Splendid.
3. Most of these.

Teeth!

2010-12-05T12:49:00.000-08:00

Well, tooth actually, but still: The Mystery of The Night of Continuous Screaming has now been solved. One little north-facing tooth is poking out of Soren's gums. I feel bad that we didn't spot the kid some Tylenol that night, but sometimes when it's 3 a.m. and there is constant screaming it's hard to strategize the best course of action.

On Friday night we went to the Garden of D'Lights (yes, it's really called that) at the Bellevue Botantical Gardens. And took some blurry photos! Which I will now share with you, you lucky creature!

And okay, one unblurry one:

Are you now filled with the spirit of the holiday season? I should hope so.

No teeth

2010-12-01T12:39:00.000-08:00

Being at work is not much fun these days. Many of my most beloved coworkers are losing their jobs or being demoted due to budget cuts. Other people are being switched into jobs completely different from their own, in other parts of the city, with different areas of expertise--and of course they feel terrible guilt for (involuntarily) displacing their colleagues. It's all pretty f'ing horrible, if you want to know the truth.

And on the homefront, Soren was pretty much awake and screaming all night last night. He's been sick, so maybe that was the problem. Maybe he's teething. I have no idea. We've been blaming everything on teething since he was three months old and guess what? No teeth.

Starting tomorrow I have three days off in a row, and on Saturday, praise be, Mr. A. and I will have the day off together. The sun is even supposed to come out that day. Maybe by then Soren and I can get it together and, more importantly, get some freaking nap time.

Good one

2010-11-30T09:48:00.000-08:00

Soren has a pretty good sense of humor; it's easy to make him laugh. But sometimes I suspect that he is just humoring us.

"Ah yes, once again we're doing that peek-a-boo thing that you guys seem to enjoy so much. Hahaha, very humorous indeed. Let me guess--you're going to pull that blanket back down off your face again, right? Yup, there you go. Haha, good one."

Snowpocalypse 2010

2010-11-23T15:38:00.000-08:00

Sorry.

2010-11-21T12:26:00.000-08:00

Okay, it's like two minutes later and I already feel terrible about that last post. It's obnoxious to complain about a little schedule change when people around me are losing their jobs.

What's really leading to my work-related depression is that even though things have not been great at the workplace for a long time, I've been able to convince myself that Workplace cared about its employees, and wanted the best for them. Now, I feel like . . . well, I have some really great coworkers. Who want the best for each other.

I think it's time to come up with a new plan. I don't know what, but I'm going to get serious about finding out.

Success

2010-11-21T11:19:00.000-08:00

I think that regarding kids, there are basically three stands you can take. Let me know if I'm leaving something out. As I see it, you can believe:

1. That nobody should have kids.
I actually find this to be a pretty reasonable point of view. Objectively, it's hard to argue that having kids is a great idea. The planet is crazy crowded, we here in the first world are using stuff about a zillion times as fast as other folks, global warming, etc. etc. Obviously I had one anyway, but if you want to take the stand that giving birth was where I went wrong, I sort of feel you.

2. That only the very wealthy should have kids.
I'm sorry, but if you believe this, you are an asshat. Please reassess your life and views.

3. That having kids is allowed, even for regular people.

If you believe #3, then I think you also have to agree that we regular people should be able to get our kids to and from daycare. Right?

The latest in a long string of insults from the workplace is that starting soon, everyone will have to work until 6 p.m., at the earliest. Like most Seattle daycares that I know of, Soren's closes at 5:30. Also, he is a baby, so he is sound asleep by 6:30 every night. I am lucky lucky that I'm not a single parent, and right now Mr. A's schedule allows him to leave downtown really early so that he can pick our kid up before daycare starts charging $5 a minute. But under this new plan I won't see Soren before he goes to sleep five nights a week. It's kind of breaking my heart.

Being a working parent has been hard. I miss having days off with Mr. A, and it sucks that Soren has hardly any time awake when his parents are both around. But up til now I have felt like my head was more or less above water. I have told myself that Tim Gunn would be proud of me for Making It Work. But only seeing my baby for a few minutes every morning, most days . . . that doesn't feel like success.

On the 312, 7:59 a.m.

2010-11-16T11:38:00.000-08:00

I get on my bus at the very last stop before it expresses its way downtown, so it's usually pretty crowded and I have to stand. Today was no exception, but then a cute young African American guy behind me offered his seat. Normally I decline seats, but today I thought, what the hell? I'm tired and I'm carrying a breast pump. So I thanked him profusely and sat.

An older Asian lady noticed this exchange and said, "Oh, what a gentleman! You're a gentleman, aren't you? Such a gentleman. You want to get married? Let's get married!"

A middle aged white guy broke in at this point. "MARRIAGE IS A BROKEN INSTITUTION. ALL WOMEN ARE GOLD DIGGERS."

The poor kid. "I think I'm probably too young to get married--I'm just eighteen. Maybe after I finish college."

"No problem!" said the lady. "I have a PhD, I take care of everything! You never worry. We get married."

And then the white guy took it straight to crazy: "OH LADY, YOU THINK YOU'RE SO GREAT? WHAT DO YOU THINK ARE THE CHANCES I'LL BE THE NEXT KING OF ENGLAND?"

Erm . . . yeah.

As we cruised into downtown, the white guy explained to the kid that he should make sure to get a prenup. He himself was due to come into twelve hundred dollars of his parents' money, he said, so it was important for him to make sure that no gold-digging lady could get her hands on it. The kid should do the same before his impending marriage to the older lady. The kid promised to take that into consideration.

In the end, I kind of wanted to marry that sweet polite kid myself. After he got off the bus, the older lady turned to the woman next to her and said, "Oh no, he's gone. I guess we don't get married. Well, that's okay. He was a little too old for me."

"Too old?"

"Yes, I need to get one younger so I can train him. You know what I train him to do first? Suck toe. Start with little one, go to big one. Suck one by one."

Potted plant

2010-11-09T16:08:00.000-08:00

Dang, Soren's cousin is a beauty. I fell in love right away. It seems impossible that Soren was ever that tiny--so much so that I had to go back and look at his newborn pictures to see if it was true. But it is. He started out small.

I'm really enjoying the current phase of Sorenness. He can sit up and play with his toys and entertain himself, but he can't crawl. It's so convenient--you just plop him down like a little potted plant, as a friend of mine said the other day, and do your dusting or whatever.

It's hard to really attend to the dusting, though, because hanging out with Soren is pretty good times right now. I knew that the acid reflux was making our lives worse, but now that the reflux doesn't really bother him anymore I can see exactly how bad it sucked. Sure, he still occasionally pukes on company, but he's not in pain all the time and as a result he's usually in a pretty fantastic mood. Even though his parents dress him crazy.

Cousins!

2010-11-08T16:43:00.000-08:00

Soren's Seattle cousin was born last night! I get to go meet her after work today, and I'm so excited. I don't get to hold her, though, because I have a stupid germy cold. Dumb old library germs. Grumble grumble.

I was emailing (well, Facebooking actually, but I'm going to say "emailing" because Facebooking seems like an embarrassing form of communication) with a college friend about the cousins and she said, "It's so great that they'll be so close in age. They can have a creepy marriage just like in a Jane Austen book!"

So we have that to look forward to. Which is nice.

Two things what are funny (at least to me)

2010-11-03T10:12:00.000-07:00

on this bummer day:

1. The worst moment of W’s presidency (for W) was apparently that one time Kanye hurt his feelings.

2. Mr. A. is the secret Seattle correspondent of this piece.

Fine fine fine

2010-10-25T11:23:00.000-07:00

Overall, everything is going better than I could have expected. Soren seems to be doing fine at daycare, I seem to be doing fine at work, everybody's fine fine fine.

But oh my lords. If I don't get a half night's sleep* sometime soon, I am going to go buh-nay-nays.

*A full night's sleep, you say? Let's not talk crazy.

Baby holder

2010-10-06T12:25:00.000-07:00

Today is Day Three of daycare--last day for the week--and it seems to be going okay. I thought I would be tearful, dropping him off that first day, but he didn't really mind so I didn't mind. He's still a little young to be afraid of strangers, and I'm hoping that with daycare (and constantly passing him around amongst friends and family), we can sidestep that phase a little bit.

Speaking of passing the baby around, do you know what is a semi-weird phenomenon I had never thought about, pre-baby? The Holding of the Baby. I am 100% fine with everyone I know holding him for as long as they want; I get plenty of baby-holding time. But I think some people are maybe afraid to ask, in case I do mind, and I kind of feel weird offering. Because if someone happens to be a non-baby-holder (which is a perfectly fine way to be), then that person has to say, "No thank you," and feel all bad, as if they have personally rejected my baby (which maybe they have because he is kind of a drooler, but that's okay too). (Also, when the baby starts to fuss, I usually take him, because who wants to hold a screaming baby?) Anyway. Is there a graceful solution to this problem?

Long, long ago, some of you asked if Soren has Scandanavian heritage, and the answer is ja. Mr. A.'s mom moved here from Norway when she was a little girl, and we pulled Soren's name off of her family tree. However, that Soren was quite a few "greats" ago, and I think from a Danish branch of the family. So there you have it. Hopefully the original Soren wasn't a total butt, but if we was at least we'll never know it.

In thrilling financial news: We bought the $500 part for our crappy old furnace and are crossing our fingers. It looked for a while there like I might lose my job, or at least get demoted (because of budget cuts; please believe that I am a killer librarian). It seems that won't happen, which is wonderful, but other killer librarians--who are also good friends of mine--are probably going to get the boot. It's kind of a giant suckfest at the library right now.

So few electrical storms

2010-09-07T16:15:00.000-07:00

It got cold, so we tried to turn on the heat. But guess what? No heat. The furnace is broken. Here are our options:

1. Spend $500 on a part for the ancient furnace, and hope that nothing else falls off of it very soon.

2. Spend $1000 on more parts for the ancient furnace to make it a little more efficient. Similar to option 1 but, I think, dumber.

3. Spend one million dollars (approx.) on a new oil furnace. There would be no gain in equity because who thinks, wow! brand new oil furnace! when they are hunting for a house? Nobody, that's who.

4. Spend 1.5 million dollars (approx.) on a new natural gas furnace. The city would have to extend the gas line to our house, which is where the extra .5 million comes in. There would theoretically be some payoff in equity if anyone were to ever want to buy our house, which no one will. Ever. Also, there is no way in hell we could afford this option without borrowing from my parents or something. And I'm not sure it's worth it for this house.

None of these are good options, and yet we can't let the baby freeze to death. What to do.

I feel completely defeated by our house. I know I'm lucky that Mr. A and I both have jobs, and we are more than likely going to keep them a while longer. But I would give just about anything if we hadn't bought this house. Oh, to be a compartively wealthy renter, who can sort of afford daycare! I fantasize about just walking away from the house, or about an errant bolt of lightning that burns it to the ground when we're away on vacation. Too bad there are so few electrical storms in Seattle.

Also, today is my first day back to work. I'm mostly enjoying mingling with the grown-ups, but man--the things that sucked about my job before I left have really spiralled out of control. I work in Crazy Town.

Soren - 4 months

2010-09-01T07:14:00.000-07:00

The other day, we had a conversation with S & D about whether or not we'd know if Soren wasn't cute. At first I said I was sure I'd know if my kid wasn't really cute. Later, though, I realized how dumb that was. Of course I wouldn't know.

But come ON.

Tricks and stuff

2010-08-30T07:42:00.000-07:00

Holy crap, I can't believe I have to go back to work in eight short days. Last night I had a work anxiety dream that began with a boring departmental meeting and ended with me screaming "HELP" at the top of my lungs, waking myself and Mr. A right up (but luckily, not the baby).

We moved Soren out of our room and into his nursery last week, and he's in there now chatting with himself while I listen in using our auditory baby spying device. He's got a whole new repertoire of sounds he's been trying out. A current favorite is the creaking door sound favored by haunted houses everywhere: "Ehhhhh . . ." Also a pterodactyl screech that can indicate joy, rage, boredom, a fart--pretty much the entire range of baby emotions.

(While I was typing this, he really started to complain about his crib imprisonment, so I went in to free him. When he saw me it was like I was Elvis. Appearing live, right there in his very own nursery! I know this won't last, but it's great for the ego. Not many people react this way to the sight of me first thing in the morning, lovely though I look.)

Part of the bummer of working for a living again is that I feel like I am just starting to get the hang of this parenting thing. Actually, "hang of it" is overstating, but I do feel like I occasionally have some dim clue as to what the hell is going on. Plus he's so much more interesting these days. Newborns are cute but it's pretty much just them, them, them, all the time. Now he likes us and does tricks and stuff.

For instance, he rolled over for the first time a couple of weeks ago, on the day before his four month birthday. But he hasn't done it again since. His attitude seems to be, "Look, I did it once. I have nothing further to prove to you people."

Contemporary cinema

2010-08-17T07:06:00.000-07:00

Me: You know the other problem with that Nanny McPhee sequel.

Mr. A.: I don't even know the first problem with it.

Me: The first problem is obviously that it exists. But the second problem is, what can possibly be the plot? I mean, you know how in the first movie, Emma Thompson gets progressively less ugly as the kids stop being jerks? Well, now what? Does she have to start all over again as ugly, but with a new family? Or do the same kids backslide into jerkiness so that she gradually re-uglifies? It just doesn't make sense.

Pause.

Mr. A. I'm so glad we could have this talk.

Fine, hippies, I admit it

2010-05-30T14:42:00.000-07:00

I really didn't mean to abandon this blog. The thing is, I'm way behind on everything that requires two hands, and I always feel like if I do get a minute when both hands are free, I should be doing things like writing thank you notes or sweeping up cat hair. Posting to my blog seems very self-indulgent somehow.

But here I am, with thank you notes yet to be written, indulging myself. I won't try to sum up the first six weeks of parenting in one blog post. It's magical, it's terrifying, it's boring, it's exhilarating, it's every cliche you've ever heard. We believe our baby to be the sweetest and the best. At his check-up the other day his pediatrician called him a smart baby, and while this is a ridiculous thing to say about a child this age and probably just meant that the doctor couldn't bring herself to call him cute, we are secretly convinced that she's right--he's a total genius. Unfortunately, he is a genius with acid reflux, just like his old lady in the last two months of her pregnancy. This makes him understandably unhappy from time to time. He has been prescribed Zantac, also just like his old lady. Heartburn sucks, ya'll.

Today for the first time we tried putting Soren in the wrap thingie and strolled up the street for a delicious brunch. He was out like a light, a completely contented light, the entire time. It was delightful. Why did we wait so long to try the wrap thingie? I don't know. I think Mr. A and I both secretly distrusted our own origami skills. I don't think we're the most hyper-worried first time parents around, but the wrap thingie comes with a really long instruction manual that is intimidating somehow. We pictured him falling through our slopping folding techniques and splattering on the pavement.

But you know what? He effing LOVES the wrap thingie--it is like a miracle shut-off switch for fussiness. So fine, hippies, I admit it--you're right about everything. Well, except for elimination communication. (You may be right about that too but you'll never get me to admit it.)

And now, a couple of baby photos that have nothing to do with the wrap thingie.

Soren James Awesome

2010-04-27T16:36:00.000-07:00

7 lbs, 9 oz.

20.5 inches

No baby yet

2010-04-13T08:05:00.000-07:00

I just thought you might want to see some photos of the nursery. It's hard to take good pictures in such a small room, but you sort of get the idea. The wolf cubs on the wall are vinyl stickers, drawn by Mr. A. and sent off to a vinyl sticker maker company. Aren't they the cutest?

The window seat is all piled up with our stuff for the hospital. Note the incredible handmade blankets, pillows, etc. all over the place, made by our wonderful friends.

By the way, we took the infant safety class, and we know what the safety hazards are in there right now--we're on it!

You look tired

2010-04-04T14:45:00.000-07:00

Here's a conversation I won't mind not having every day:

Coworker or Library Patron* (as though I am in the final stages of galloping consumption): How are you feeling?

Me: Good, thanks! How are you?

CoLP: You look tired.

Me: Well, I guess I am a little bit tired. Not too bad, though.

CoLP: Yeah, well you'd better enjoy life now because soon you'll be a MISERABLE SLEEPLESS WRECK! Hahahaha!

Good one.

**
**

My due date is a week away. I wouldn't mind getting this show on the road a couple of days early, but I have a feeling it'll be more likely to run late. Any last minute advice?

*Really, all of my coworkers are great. These conversations only happen with people who work here, but aren't really my coworkers. You know?

Sheep safety

2010-04-03T16:44:00.000-07:00

This means we're ready to be parents, right?

C'mere, gLovie

2010-03-24T14:05:00.000-07:00

Loyal readers may recall that many months ago we started getting a free subscription to Parenting: The Early Years. (Technically it's in TimJim's name; we're saving them so that he can enjoy them later.)

We have learned many things from P:TEY. For example, we have learned that actually there is only one parent and her name is MOMMY. Articles tend to focus on topics such as how not to be too much of a nag to your husband, even though he doesn't know a diaper from a disco ball and expects his martini to be cold and ready when he gets home from work no matter what. (You, Mommy, do not work.)

There are also lots of helpful tips and tricks from other Mommies--sort of like Hints from Heloise, but weirder. For instance:

"Travel Tub: When we go on a trip, I bring a small inflatable pool to put in the hotel room's tub for my son to take a bath in. It protects him from germs, and any water that spills out goes right down the drain!"

or

"Look Book: So I can read my Parents magazine in peace, I made my son his own "magazine" to look at. I cut out pictures of kids from past issues, slide them into sheet protectors, and put them in an old binder!"

Aren't those great ideas? I know there's nothing I'd rather do than bring an inflatable swimming pool on every vacation, or cut and paste an old magazine into a binder for some reason instead of just letting the kid look at it.

What's really fascinating, though, are the safety products. To be fair, these are more advertised than featured in the parenting magazines. But wow, check this out:

That's right, it's Baby's First Head Gear! Presumably the first of many. These might be the best though:

Finally: a world where children need never touch a surface! Ever! No matter what! Isn't science wonderful?

Why not to buy whiskey when you are eight months pregnant, no matter what

2010-03-16T15:45:00.001-07:00

It's my friend and coworker T's birthday today. I thought about getting him a gift certificate for a coffeeshop near our workplace, but it turns out he's given up coffee. (Even though apparently he's not even pregnant. I know, he must be a communist or something.) I consulted with Mr. A via email and we decided to get him something not very original that we knew he would enjoy: whiskey.

Thanks to Washington's repressive liquor laws, you have to get your liquor purchased during the workday. So on my break, I headed down the hill to downtown's only liquor store, bought the whiskey, and hauled it back up. Then I went to the Bartell to buy some ginger ale, because T enjoys a nice whiskey ginger.

It was all going swimmingly until the bag the Bartell lady gave me immediately broke and the whiskey bottle fell and shattered. I could feel every single person in the long line at the Bartell judging me as a terrible mother and a drunken librarian.* I really didn't know what to do, so eventually I just threw away the sad remains of my bottle of Maker's Mark and left.

I still reek of whiskey and there are only six minutes left in my dinner break. Time to go serve the patrons!

*I was still wearing my crazy clown librarian badge. Represent!

Zap it!

2010-03-09T18:12:00.000-08:00

Mr. A. doesn't have a Facebook account, which state of affairs is probably a better way of life overall but did present him with a problem this week at work. He found that he needed to send out an email to hundreds of people, encouraging them to become fans of his workplace's page, even though he doesn't know the first thing about Facebookery.

Me: What are you going to say in the email?

Him: I'm going to tell them to zap it to our Friend Zone!

**
**

Oscars recap: The fact that The Blind Side even exists on film fills me with impotent rage. I saw the woman the movie is based on being interviewed on one of the morning shows the other day and she confirmed my suspicion that she could probably use a good punch in the face.

Tiny slimy sausage

2010-03-02T18:40:00.000-08:00

Whoa dude, I'm having a baby next month.

For a while there, people were constantly commenting on how big I was. But now popular opinion definitely seems to have swung round the other way. I hardly look pregnant at all, they tell me. So skinny!

I know these people mean to compliment, and these comments don't make me mad. I might have said similar stuff to pregnant ladies in the past without thinking about it--who knows. But isn't it weird that such is our culture that even the knocked up get applauded for being thin? (I've actually gained a very average amount of weight, but that is neither here nor there.)

And now, in reality television corner: I watched a few episodes of The Bachelor this season, including last night's thrilling finale, and I must say I have never encountered a more stupidly named group of people. Tinsley? Vienna? I'm sorry, but no. It is not possible to love someone named after a tiny slimy sausage from a can.

Probably babies

2010-02-24T11:05:00.001-08:00

You know what? I know a lot of kind, generous people. I was previously aware of this, but this whole having a baby thing has really brought it home in a new way. The handmade gifts! The thoughtful gestures! They are overwhelming. I'm pretty lucky.

Another way that I'm lucky? My husband has bought me the most beautiful, romantic gift that anyone has ever received: a dishwasher. Seriously, I am so happy about it I could just cry (and I might, depending on current hormone levels). In the past fifteen years, I've only had a dishwasher in my home for one glorious 10-month period, and at this point I'm pretty sick of doing the dishes. I'd rather dust, clean the toilet--just about any other chore is preferable.* Plus you can just throw baby bottles right in there. And probably babies. Those machines can do anything, right? Modern technology is wonderful.

*Except scooping the kitty litter. But that's the one big bonus of pregnancy: no scooping.

What I did on my last vacation as a non-parent

2010-02-14T11:28:00.001-08:00

Okay, I said I was going to write a Portland post a hundred years ago, and yet have not. Here are some highlights:

1. It was sunny and 65 degrees the day we were in Corvallis, cementing that town in my mind forever as a paradise on earth.
2. Also, our hotel had an indoor heated pool. Heated!
3. Here is a picture of the courthouse:

4. Why did I take a picture of the Corvallis Courthouse, and nothing else in Corvallis? Because I am crap at taking pictures, both technically and in the sense that I somehow always forget to take them.
5. Our hotel in Portland had fancy French bath products and waffle-fabric robes and slippers and a French press (do you capitalize the "P" in French press? Wikipedia says no) and loose tea. It was delightful. I love a fancy hotel.
6. We went to practically every single restaurant and shop you suggested, both in Corvallis and Portland, and they were all lovely. Thank you! Here is the breakfast we ate at St. Honore:

8. Yum.

Where to look

2010-02-10T10:14:00.000-08:00

One of the many things you're not supposed to eat as a pregnant lady is unheated deli meat. Apparently some sort of deadly bacteria can grow on it that only pregnant women are susceptible to, science, studies, blah blah blah.* But at the same time, the pregnant ladies need a lot of protein. So everyday when Mr. A packs my lunch (let's just take a moment to appreciate the fact that he packs my lunch every day, shall we? thank you), he puts the turkey in a separate baggie so that it won't contaminate the rest of my sandwich and I can heat it up in the microwave at work.

He generally leaves the house before I get out of bed, so he also leaves me a note to remind me to get the turkey out of the refrigerator:

Mr. Awesome really lives up to his name, does he not?

*Also there is something about nitrates, if you really want to get into it, but we buy the nitrate-free deli meats. So please don't worry your pretty little head about that.

My state of zen calm

2010-02-09T16:18:00.000-08:00

I'll post an update on the Portland trip soon--we didn't take many pictures, but we took a couple and I will post them here for your viewing pleasure once we get them up on the computator.

**
**

I attended a meeting today at which I think I came off as kind of a crazy person. I hate it when I do that. You would think that, at my advanced old age, I would be able to advocate for issues I find important without sounding like a lunatic, but alas, this skill eludes me. I even came straight from doing prenatal yoga with another knocked-up friend (which was really fun, by the way), but my state of zen calm only lasted about four minutes into the meeting.

**
**

At our birth class last night,* the instructor said we should bring several different outfits to the hospital to give birth in. She said that having something fresh to change into can make all the difference. People who've given birth, is this true? I feel like this will likely be the one time in my life when fashion really doesn't matter to me, but maybe I'm wrong.

*Will I ever talk about anything besides birth class ever again? Perhaps no.

It's gonna hurt

2010-02-02T18:17:00.001-08:00

Conversation with a teen at the reference desk:

Her: How many months you got?
Me: About seven.
Her: This your first one?
Me: Yup.
Her: Dang. It's gonna hurt.

**
**

At our first birth class, the instructor mentioned that there was a sign-up sheet for anyone who wanted to bring pot-luck dinners to future classes. We could bring our own food if we wanted to, but wasn't it nicer to share, etc. Mr A and I declined, since we had signed up for the class under the assumption that as grown-ups, we would take care of our own nutritional needs.

This last class, though, she laid the potluck guilt on pretty thick. We were specifically instructed to sign up right now for the potluck, and not come to the next class with a full stomach. And really, wasn't it much, MUCH nicer to share?

Mr. A and I do not believe it is nicer to share. It's not that we have anything against sharing per se, but we both have full time jobs that end just about an hour before the class begins--enough time to pick up some food for ourselves, but not enough time to whip up a little something to feed the whole group. We chose this class specifically for its proximity to our workplaces, and going home in-between isn't an option. Plus, even if we made some giant platters of something in advance and somehow hauled them to work on the bus, where would we keep that stuff all day long while we're at work? And how could we reheat it?

Aside from all that, I just don't want to be responsible for feeding a room full of pregnant strangers. Everybody has different (not to say crazy) beliefs about what it is okay to eat while you're pregnant. I can just imagine some woman standing up and saying "Macaroni?! Don't you know that ingestion of noodles during the 3rd trimester has been shown to inhibit breastfeeding and cause colick in newborns? Are you trying to KILL US ALL?!"

So yeah, we still didn't sign up for the potluck. I'm assuming that we are now the pariahs of the class.

Banner day

2010-01-28T14:56:00.001-08:00

It is a banner day in the Soggy Librarian world, as I am wearing, NOT the maternity jeans I wear almost every single day, but instead an actual dress. My public is amazed. Normally I love wearing dresses, but I only bought one maternity dress because maternity dresses just didn't seem like such a great investment. Also, it's winter so you have to buy maternity tights. Which are expensive and frankly not very easy to put on, what with all the maternity getting in the way. One pair of those seemed like enough.

My annual Big Thing I Do at the Library is this weekend. Sadly, being me, I can never host a Big Thing without some level of anxiety. But this is my third annual Big Thing, and I think I've pretty much got the hang of it by now. It'll be fun. Still, I'm really looking forward to the period of time after the Big Thing, when I will activate my own personal autopilot button and cruise on out to maternity leave.*

Next weekend, Mr. A and I are taking a 3-day weekend and going to Portland! Actually, on Friday we are going to Corvallis, OR, where Mr A will be attending something or other. I lived in Eugene, OR for a couple of years, but the only time I made it over to Corvallis was when I joined a friend who wanted to go to an Ani Difranco concert there. And the only thing I remember was that the concert was in like, the basketball stadium I think, and Ani Difranco could NOT get over the fact that Oregon State's mascot is the Beavers. She was way into it.

So anyway, I have two questions for you, Intertubes:

1. What should I do in Corvallis while Mr. A is doing his something or other? Has anyone ever been there? What is Corvallis' deal, anyway?

2. Portland. I have been there before, of course, but I am not an expert. Favorite restaurants? Shops? Onesie peddlers?**

*If my boss or anyone above me in the pay scale at The Library is reading this, please note that my autopilot functions on an extremely high and productive level and is undetectable except by very expensive instruments not currently owned by The Library.
**Mr. A and I can no longer walk past over-priced children's stores without going in and poking everything. We do not buy. Only poke.

Mystery solvers, library edition

2010-01-27T09:40:00.000-08:00

As promised, let's chat about Project Runway's new season for a second, shall we? It's already so much better than last year! Don't you think? We are watching it on the computator, so we stay a little bit behind, but I am seriously loving it. Just moving back to New York makes a lot of difference, but I think the designers are better, too. And Nina and Michael are in regular attendance so far, instead of those terrible sixth rate L.A. judges from last season.* In these times of strife, I really need to be able to depend on Nina and Michael.

**
**

In the past two days, I have had two different patrons come to the desk asking me for Section 9. Any guesses as to what they actually wanted? Patron #1 was looking for District 9, the major motion picture, while Patron #2 was looking for the 9th floor of the library. It is for solving these brain-busting mysteries that the library pays me the big bucks.

p.s. I feel bad about yesterday's whiny post. I really do know how lucky I am, sometimes I just forget for a few minutes when I get an email that doesn't agree with me.

*Of course, the first episode of this season featured Nicole Ritchie. But at least they didn't let her talk very much.

Getting cranky

2010-01-26T11:42:00.000-08:00

I'm going to get to take about five and a half months off for my maternity leave. I'm well aware that I should be grateful--and I am grateful. It's going to be wonderful to be away from work with the baby for so long, and I know it's a chance that a lot of parents in this country don't get. The bummer about it, though, is that in order to do that I've had to save up all my vacation time (and sick leave, though luckily I haven't been very sick) for quite a while now. So I haven't had a real vacation in a year. And I'm getting CRANKY.

This year has been a real struggle at work, and every time I think it's getting better, everything backslides again. It's gotten to the point that I don't know how to make things better, or if I can. Then, people keep asking me if I'm coming back to work after the baby. Although I know this is a reasonable question, I can't help but think, how fancy do you think Mr. A and I really are? Have you seen our tiny shoebox house that we can barely afford? Our single car with the cracked windshield? Believe it or not, we need both of our incomes to make this glamorous lifestyle possible. Would that it were otherwise.

Also the national and international news is so terrible these days that I can't even bear to listen to my beloved NPR. If I hear ONE MORE WORD about Scott Brown pimping his American Idol daughter, there will be violence, I swear.

Sigh. Sorry--I needed that. My next post will be about rainbows, bunnies, or Project Runway, promise.

While watching the US snowboarding championship on Universal Sports

2010-01-24T12:42:00.000-08:00

Mr. A: I think the 2026 Olympics are the earliest we can aim for.*

Me: (pause) 2030 is probably more realistic.

Mr. A: Nah, he can make 2026. He just needs to focus.

*For the baby to compete in. If that's not clear.

Smiley-smiley

2010-01-22T16:02:00.000-08:00

So, uh, I haven't been such a great blogger lately. This is partly because I wanted to try to come up with a post that wasn't pregnancy-, baby-, or weather-related (the sun has been out! sort of! thank you, El Nino and climate change!)--and failed miserably. There just isn't room in my brain for very many thoughts, and those topics are taking up most of the available space. Also, once I go for a while without a post I feel like my next post should somehow be extra interesting, which is a pretty high bar to set for myself since my regular posts are not all interesting. Hence, the long periods of silence.

We went to our first birthing class this week, and it wasn't too bad. There was a lot of smiley-smiley "no question is a stupid question" sort of stuff, but people really weren't asking stupid questions, so it was fine. The class seems to be free of the kind of people who ruined graduate school for me by never, ever shutting their pieholes under any circumstances and turning each class into their own personal therapy session. So that's nice.

There were ten couples, all due at more or less the same time--late March through late April. One of the couples still hadn't looked into finding a place to deliver their baby, and I was disconcerted to find myself for the first time feeling smugly superior to other parents. Clearly it is only a matter of time before I'm denouncing bedtime techniques and pacifier practices left and right. I'm going to be so much fun to be with!

Shoe mysteries revealed! High school football shows plugged!

2010-01-10T14:41:00.000-08:00

For those of you waiting with bated breath to discover the results of the Great Shoe Debate of Late 2009, the answer was . . . none of the above. I couldn't reconcile myself to the elf shoes, and the Frye boots were just too expensive. Instead, I got these Clarks boots, which I found on sale for a pretty sweet discount at a local shoe store. So everyone was a winner. Well, mostly me. I was a winner. Of boots.

**
**

Mr. A. and I are currently obsessed with Friday Night Lights. I know it's nobody's fault but my own that I had never seen this show before, but in my defense, a show about a small Southern town obsessed with football just seemed a little too close to home. Still, enough of my ladyfriends recommended it that I finally caved--which was half the battle, since I also had to convince Mr. A. to watch it. He is not a football fan, which is one of the many things I love about him, but it made this tv show a hard sell.

I must say, FNL ladyfans, you were so very right--I am crazy about this show, and Mr. A is pretty near as crazy. We agree that we have crushes on Coach and Mrs. Taylor, respectively (although actually I sort of have a crush on both of them). And I never get tired of saying the name Tim Riggins. Don't you wish your name was Tim Riggins? Of course you do.

Still got it

2010-01-09T13:24:00.000-08:00

The other day a couple of boys (we had established they were twenty, which equals "boy" in my book) were asking me about getting hired at the library. So I was telling them the boring details of all the pieces of the application, when and where to turn them all in, etc., when one of them said, "I wanna get that job just to be able to sit next to you all day. You fine!"

"Honey, I'm old and married and pregnant."

"Well . . . old and pregnant ain't bad!"

What is and is not ugly

2009-12-31T10:22:00.000-08:00

This has been such a crappy year for so many people I know. I feel really lucky that it Mr. A. and I have come through it relatively unscathed. Work has pretty much sucked for me, but at least I have a job--and one that I don't have to worry about losing. I know it'll get better again in the future, and things have already started to improve. Money is pretty tight for us, and exactly how we are going to pay for daycare remains a mystery, but we're healthy and employed and pretty happy overall. I guess we should enjoy it now because everyone tells me that I'll be filing for divorce about a week after the baby is born.*

Speaking of baby, at this point nobody is the least bit worried about me being underweight. In fact, several different coworkers asked me yesterday when my due date was, and when I said April they all said some variation of "April? Really. That long. Wow. I'd have thought sooner." I've actually gained pretty much exactly as much weight as I'm supposed to have gained by now, but a pound a week is really quite a lot of poundage. Pregnancy is such a weird yet fascinating personal science experiment.

And now, interwebs, I need your help. As someone who proudly wore the sweater shown in my last post, and whose clothing budget has been pretty tight lately, I think I'm losing my sense of what is and is not ugly. For instance, these shoes:

Ugly? Acceptable? Overly elfin? I just don't know anymore. These are the shoes I really want, but alas, they are out of my price range:

These would also be most welcome:

And that concludes the fashion portion of our program. Thanks for watching.

Happy new year and new decade to you--I hope your 10's are awesome from start to finish.

*Dear everyone: Please stop saying that.

p.s. Guess what? We won the nationwide ugly sweater contest! Truly our greatest accomplishment for 2009. Thank you for voting--you are the wind beneath our hideous wings.

The Doggie Sweater People

2009-12-22T09:07:00.000-08:00

Guess what? It's almost Christmas. And you know what that means.

It means that you should go vote for Mr. A and me in this Christmas Sweater Contest. By the way, if you haven't read the comic strip Cul de Sac, I highly recommend it. It will renew your faith in comic strips and possibly even humankind.

Merry Christmas! I hope you have a wonderful holiday filled with German Shepherds and sparkles.

I fight my neighborhood, my neighborhood always wins

2009-12-18T10:32:00.000-08:00

Sad but true: I have been utterly defeated by Ravenna. Or at least, defeated by my block in the unfashionable northern end of Ravenna.

If you recall, when we last spoke I had hatched the ingenius plan of forcing my neighbors to be neighborly through the distribution of holiday baked goods. So I put my beautiful new Kitchenaid to work and whipped up several lovely varieties of cookies, wrapped them up prettily, and put a tag on them that said what they were and and who they were from.

Then I set out to distribute them around the neighborhood on Tuesday evening. Sadly Mr. A didn't have time to come with me on this thrilling adventure because he was busily wrapping up gifts that needed to be sent out the door to his relatives. As it turned out, it didn't really matter, since only two of my neighbors were home--or at least, at home and answering the door. (I suspect other neighbors were at home--lights were on inside behind closed blinds--but I have no proof.) At those two houses, where the door was opened by first a middle-aged white guy and then a middle-aged white lady, pretty much the exact same scenario went down:

Neighbor (opens door a tiny crack and peers out suspiciously): Yes?
Me: Hi! I'm the Soggy Librarian. My husband and I live across the street. We've been doing some holiday baking and wanted to share some with you.
Neighbor (grabbing the cookies): Great. Thanks. Goodnight. (Door slams shut.)

Wha? Huh? REALLY? Really. You're not even going to introduce yourself to the visibly pregant lady standing in the rain offering you baked goods? Wow. Okay.

Of the neighbors who weren't home, only one (out of maybe 6 houses) stopped by later to say thank you. He lives next door and is the only neighbor we are already sort of on chatting terms with.

The kicker came when I ran into our other next-door neighbor on my way to the bus the next morning as he was leaving the house to walk his dog. I called out good morning, and not only did he not say thank you for the cookies, he didn't even say good morning back.

The thing is, Ravenna is a fairly nice neighborhood, and granted, we have pretty much the smallest and crappiest house in it, but still. I don't think our particular block is fancy enough to breed this kind of weird assholery. This is a gated community level of assholery. Don't you think?

But I'm not letting our crotchety neighbors harsh my holiday buzz. For one thing, I just called Delta to ask if I need to bring some kind of form from my midwives promising that I won't give birth on the plane (some airlines make you do this), and not only did she say I didn't need any documentation, she was quite nice about it! A Delta representative! So you see, there really is such a thing as a Christmas miracle.

Or I guess really a Hannukah miracle, eh? We're invited to a Hannukah dinner tonight and I'm so excited. Any festival that's mostly about fried food and candles is a-okay with me.

Okay, one last thing. Have you seen this? It made my holiday season just a little bit brighter.

That's right, Ravenna

2009-12-13T11:31:00.000-08:00

It's been really cold, you guys. Maybe not quite Tauntaun sleeping bag cold, but you know, pretty chilly--below freezing almost all the time for a couple of weeks or so. Today when I left for work a few snowflakes were finally falling, though the mighty forecasters claim that it won't stick.

Between you and me, I like the snow. Unfortunately there is a Seattle city ordinance against admitting this out loud. Seattle is not equipped to handle snow, as we proved spectacularly last December, and therefore the snow makes people cranky, and local businesses suffer, which admittedly is bad. But come on. Hating snow during the holidays? You might as well hate magic and goodness and peace for all mankind.

My wonderful mother-in-law just sent us a beautiful Kitchen-Aid mixer (in ice blue! hooray!), and tomorrow I am going to try to put it to use by doing some Christmas baking for the neighbors. None of our neighbors talk to us but I plan to bully them into at least knowing our names. That's right, Ravenna. I'm your worst nightmare.

The sweet, sweet Photoshopped life

2009-12-10T15:08:00.000-08:00

S & B's baby was insanely cute, as you might imagine. I think she almost made Mr. A want to have a baby.

We've started accumulating Baby Things. Not a huge amount, but we have a car seat, and lately we have been unable to leave Fred Meyer without, say, a set of footie pajamas with frog faces on the feet. Mr A somehow stumbled across this today (elbow patches!), which we bought, as well as this (Paddington Bear with elbow patches!!) and this (Muppet!). I take back everything I might have said or implied about the non-cuteness of baby boy clothes. I am satisfied with my dress-up options.

Most of the baby stuff we've gathered so far has been free. I belong to an email listserv of moms who live in the ritzier neighborhood next to my neighborhood. For the most part, these women seem like nice people who live in a world entirely alien to mine. They use the listserv to get recommendations for aestheticians* and personal chefs and other professionals that I doubt I'll ever be in a position to employ.

But! What's great about people who are a lot fancier than us is that they have stuff, and they often want to get rid of it. Here is a list of some of the stuff I've snagged from them so far:

1. an infant bath tub
2. 8-10 bottles
3. 1,893 pairs of baby socks (approx)
4. this thing**
5. about 120 newborn diapers

So now, we are prepared to clothe, drive, wash, diaper, and feed the baby. That's pretty much all you need. Right?

*What exactly do aestheticians do?
**Okay, I paid a couple of bucks for that thing, but not much. How about that photo? It represents the sweet, sweet Photoshopped life that Mr. A and I will soon be enjoying with the baby.

Joy, peeps!

2009-12-08T10:21:00.000-08:00

Our friends S & B had their baby girl last night. Mr. A and I are going to visit them on our lunch break today, and I'm very excited. I can't wait to hear the birth story, too. Yesterday was their due date; apparently, S went to the hospital for her due date appointment and bam, her water broke. And then just a few hours later, baby! I would like to think that my baby will be just as punctual and efficient, but I have my doubts.

On Mr. A's suggestion, I stopped by Bartell's this morning to see if they had any celebratory candy cigars. They don't, and the woman I asked about it was very short with me--no doubt concluding that I was scheming to addict small children to cigar-smoking, a vice to which we all know they are so easily drawn. Ah, Seattle. I love you but sometimes you are such an uptight pain in the ass.

So, sticking with the disgusting candy theme, I picked this up instead:

Looks delicious, right?

How I spent my Thanksgiving

2009-11-29T15:08:00.000-08:00

This is how I spent most of my Thanksgiving day:

Sitting in front of the fire, covered in cats, embroidering tiny onesies and t-shirts with snaps. After much lounging, we finally roused ourselves to cook a couple of things, which we brought over to S&D's. They had prepared an amazing dinner.

See?

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T10:13:00.000-08:00

I have a long list of stuff to be thankful for, including the fire we have going right now, family to spend the holiday with, and Seattle sunrises, which can knock your socks off even in the midst of a month-long torrent of wind and rain. Mr. A took this picture with his phone from his office yesterday:

Weekend roundup

2009-11-23T16:12:00.000-08:00

What a nice weekend. After a gossip-filled craft night on Friday, Mr. A and spent Saturday being tourists in Seattle. We walked down to a restaurant inside our neighborhood bookstore* for brunch, and it was delicious. Lemon-scented risotto pancakes with warm berry compote! Maybe not the best breakfast choice for the baby, but definitely the best for me.

Then we went to SAM (we're members, dahling) to see the Calder and Michelangelo exhibits. Seeing as how we are incredibly fancy people who went to Florence just last year, the Michelangelo exhibt wasn't that exciting. The Italians are apparently unprepared to part with most of the good stuff.

The Calder exhibit was pretty cool, except that I got in big trouble for pretending to blow on one of the mobiles. (In my defense, I was standing really far away from it and the thing probably weighed five tons. Remember that smoker in the old commericial who couldn't even blow out that simple match? That was me. Anyway, aren't mobiles supposed to move?)

After my shame, we moseyed down to Georgetown and Fantagraphics, where Mr. A bought what was possibly the last copy of Crumb's Book of Genesis currently in existence. Then we cleverly angled to be served a lovely meal by S & D, followed by some fireside lounging.

All in all, nothing too fancy, but a very good day. The kind of day that will no doubt be a lot more complicated to pull off in a few months.

*This place has a convenient baby pit filled with toys where you can cage your baby while you eat your meal or sip your wine. Duly noted.

Every single day

2009-11-19T15:03:00.000-08:00

You know what weather isn't much fun? The kind we're having right now: 49 degrees and raining hard with winds of 20-50 mph. Say what you will about snowstorms and heat waves, this gets my vote for the suckiest weather. A wind advisory is in effect! Talk about your lame advisories. What advice are you supposed to take from that? Look out for flying objects? Hope there aren't too many trees growing close to your house?*

Also, I've lived in the Northwest for a total of about ten years, and you know what I forget every year? It's dark ALL THE TIME from November 1st to sometime in March. All of this would be okay if I could just stay home and drink hot chocolate and finish up Felicity,** but the world insists that I leave my house almost every single day.

However, tomorrow night I get to do exactly what I am in the mood to do, which is go over to PCL's house and do crafts with ladies while drinking hot chocolate (or possibly apple cider--I'm still pondering that decision) and eating baked goods. Doesn't that sound perfect?

* My brother and his wife (who live in Alabama) just had a giant tree fall through their house and into one of their bedrooms. If only they had known about the wind advisory, they could have put up that invisible force field around their house.

**Seriously, Ben sucks. Noel is sometimes a dufus in the way most 21-year-old boys are dufuses, but Ben's temper tantrums are not okay. What is Felicity thinking? Hopefully she gets her head on straight in season 4.

Beautiful baby werewolf

2009-11-19T09:05:00.000-08:00

As we told people the boy news yesterday it gradually occurred to me that this news is not as shocking and amazing to everyone else as it is to me. For people living in the real world, there are essentially only two choices, baby-wise, and you're pretty much bound to get one or the other. But I was so sure it was a girl that I couldn't have been much more surprised if the ultrasound technician had announced that we were going to be the proud parents of a beautiful baby werewolf.* I just never thought I would have a boy, and I can't wait to have one.

I have to hand it to my mom for not pointing out how right she was about my lack of baby gender-predicting abilities. She did say rather sadly that she had hoped I would someday be the mother of a 14-year-old girl (she did not add, "a HORRIBLE 14-year-old girl," but we both knew what we were talking about). That's part of the reason I'm thrilled to be having a boy. Boy baby clothes are not usually as cute as girl clothes, but boys are often less of a pain in their mothers' asses when they are 14. Or so I have observed.

Soon I will post a totally non-baby-gushing entry, I swear. It will have intellectual depth and will feature a post-structural analysis of something or other.

*I guess technically the jury is still out on the werewolf thing, since we are only at the waxing crescent moon right now. Also it was 8:00 in the morning which I guess is a pretty human time for werewolves anyway. And do baby werewolves change in utero? These are questions that go shockingly unanswered by What to Expect When You're Expecting.

Secret message

2009-11-18T13:03:00.000-08:00

I first suspected I was pregnant one morning a little over four months ago while I was riding the bus to work. I just felt tired in a weird way. So I bought a pregnancy test at the Bartell's across the street from the library, took it in the office restroom, and voila! Two pink lines. When I got home, I took another pregnancy test. And another one. Which I decided would be best followed up by taking another one, and maybe just one more to verify the results. Many, many pink lines. I would line up all the tests and look at them as if they were ancient runes hiding some secret message.

All along the way, this whole experience has seemed slightly unreal to me. Not in a bad way--just in the sense that I was completely amazed and tearful and awestruck the first time I heard the baby's heartbeat. And the first time I saw the baby on ultrasound. Also every time I looked at the ultrasound pictures thereafter. Each confirmation that a someone is actually living in there has been a "holy crap" moment for me.

None more so than this morning, when Mr. A. held my hand while the ultrasound technician told us--and showed us--that TimJim really is a TimJim. Wow. We have a son.

Pregnancy memoir

2009-11-14T16:57:00.001-08:00

We'll find out on Wednesday whether TimJim is a girl or a boy, so please place your bets at this time. So far, the spread seems to be about 3-1 girl, with my mom and brother-in-law holding down the boy camp. I hope the baby doesn't decide to be modest and keep its tiny little pencil legs crossed. The period of speculation has been fun but I have now had enough of that fun.

Possible titles for my never-to-be-written pregnancy memoir:

1. That's Not a Beer Gut, That's My Baby
2. Please Don't Make That Face When I Mention Potential Baby Names
3. A Long Time Between Cocktails

A pretty obvious science fact

2009-11-14T10:31:00.000-08:00

I've been in such a good mood lately. I got my H1N1 shot (just like winning the lottery!), bought some relatively cute maternity jeans, and only worked three weekdays last week. Good times! Also, the second trimester happy hormones have definitely kicked in. Evidence: I was in the Gap the other day buying the maternity jeans and they started playing Christmas music really loudly. Even though I would normally be filled with rage by hearing Christmas music at this time of year, this time I didn't mind and in fact I actually kind of liked it.

I'm about halfway done with this pregnancy, which seems crazy. It occured to me yesterday that I'm going to be someone's MOTHER and I had a little tiny panic attack. I realize this seems like a pretty obvious science fact but I somehow hadn't thought about it in quite that way, and it made me feel kind of bummed for my kid. I mean, I know the kid could do worse. I like reading books out loud, for example, and I'm crazy about playing pretend and riding dumb rides at amusement parks.

However, it's clear that the real star parent is going to be Mr. A. Here, for example, is an abbreviated list of things that Mr. A can teach/do for TimJim much, much better than I can:

1. Drawing--particularly funny and bizarre cartoons and creatures.
2. Playing guitar. (Also: bass, keyboards, and most other instruments to varying extents.)
3. Cooking.
4. Snowboarding & skateboarding. (Also: pretty much anything that requires physical agility.)

Not to mention that he's more patient than I am, less prone to sulks, and less addicted to America's Next Top Model despite Tyra Banks' ever-increasing intolerability. Don't worry, I'm not super down on myself--I think I'll muddle through as well as most people, and certainly much better than I would have ten or even five years ago. I guess I just thought I'd have reached some kind of zen plain and attained deep wisdom before I had kids. Somehow this magical transformation has failed to occur.

Your friend and mine

2009-11-10T15:12:00.000-08:00

Hey Interets! Did you ever sometimes not want to go to your job one bit? ME TOO. Internets, it's like we are soul mates. Do you want to go out sometime? Seriously. I love you.

So, I'm a reviewer for one of the major journals that reviews teen and children's books. I'm actually inordinately proud of this accomplishment, despite the fact that all you have to do to be a reviewer is 1.) be a librarian and 2.) email them and tell them you want to do it. (And frankly, I'm not sure they even check up on #1.) Supposedly there is a trial period in which they test your writing mettle, but I think they're really just testing to make sure you actually send in reviews of the books they send you. They don't want to waste the books.

The thing is, though, they've really been sending me some crappy books. I hope I'm not turning into one of those haters who rants that all teen books are terrible and the kids should be reading Moby Dick, by god--but this last book has just about pushed me over the edge. It's the second in a series, the first installment of which comes highly recommended by your friend and mine, Mr. Glenn Beck. The one I'm reading contains stereotypes of American Indians and slaves that are . . . what's the word? Lazy? Offensive? Making me wonder how this stuff gets published?

What do you say about a book like that? I'm thinking something like, "Great action sequences, particularly for young white boys who must constantly reaffirm their superiority over girls and people of color."

**
**

After our messy break-up with Comcast (they still call around dinnertime, I hang up, rinse, repeat), we got a digital antennae and now we are watching the digital channels. Did you know that the digital channels are crazy? For instance, now we get two or three each of Spanish and Japanese language channels, one channel that plays nothing but the A-Team and Magnum PI (I know, EXCELLENT) plus approximately one hundred Christian pop culture channels. These mostly show Christian rock and Christian stand-up comedy.

What separates contemporary Christian stand-up from contemporary secular stand-up, you ask? Well, it relies pretty heavily on the fact that one's wife is a pain in the ass who must be appeased at all costs. So . . . not much.

Slightly offensive

2009-11-04T14:44:00.001-08:00

We were Rosemary and Roman for Halloween this year. We're sort of a conceptual (not to mention slightly offensive) pair in that one of us is a fictional devil rape victim from the 60's, and the other is an actual rapist of the 1970's, styled as a jailbird of the future.

Those are quaaludes I'm being offered. Note the fear in the eyes.

Miniature pirates

2009-10-31T17:43:00.000-07:00

I worked today and my floor was taken over by a children's pirate band and their fans--hundreds of miniature pirates. The smallest pirate could not have been more than 30 inches long. It was all pretty adorable, and a lot more entertaining than the regular business of being a librarian.

Happy Halloween little bebes. I hope you're doing something incredibly spooky.

2009-10-28T11:12:00.000-07:00

I just came from the midwife. Everything is going along swimmingly with the baby, my blood pressure is good, blah blah blah. We are all agreed that I need to eat more protein. I'm also supposed to eat three servings of dairy every day, which is awesome. I've always feared that I eat way too much dairy, but now I have orders from a medical profssional to cram tons of yogurt and cheese down my piehole. Hooray!

After my appointment this morning I took myself out to a two egg breakfast with bacon and a couple of giant pancakes. Maybe not precisely what my midwife had in mind, but undeniably protein-rich. Also syrup-rich. I'm pretty sure I gained a pound just from that meal.

**
**

Really, really bad day at work. I don't think the library loves me anymore.

The only thing separating me from that bright future

2009-10-27T09:20:00.000-07:00

Can you believe we have to go to work every single DAY? What a load of crap. I used to think that if I won the lottery I'd be one of those lottery-winning a-holes who still goes to work--just part time, of course, because I'm so devoted to my craft--but now I realize that I was what is known as a LIAR. If I won the lottery I would sit on the couch all day and watch Felicity on DVD.* The only thing separating me from that bright future is the fact that I have never bought a lottery ticket in my life.

**
**

I just broke up with Comcast, and it felt good. Stupid Comcast, trying to make me install yet another box just so that I can watch the tv I already pay for. I hate them. Now Mr. A and I are going to become the cool people who watch all of our tv on the intertubes. Suck it, Comcast.

**
**

I need new music, and I'm taking suggestions. What are the kids listening to these days? Any ideas for good fall/winter musics? I need some horizon-expanding.

*Noel or Ben, people? That is the burning question coming at you from 1999. I'm 100% Noel all the way. I'm in season 2 now and Ben is starting to seem like somewhat less of a doucher than previously, but he's still not un-douchey enough to woo me away from Noel.

That girl's all right with me

2009-10-26T10:20:00.000-07:00

You know what's awesome about Rick James' "Super Freak"? The girl's really not a super freak. I'm mean, she's waiting for him with incense, wine, and candles. Not exactly a freaky scene, unless you have very severe allergies.

**
**

I think I've turned a corner in terms of worrying about the baby. Not to say I won't worry at all anymore--why give up something I'm good at, especially when I work in a swine flu soup?--but I think I'm past the dedicated worrying that I had been doing.

Have I told you how convinced I am that the baby is a girl? I'm dead certain. My mom says that my certainty is scientific proof it's a boy. I would be delighted to find out it's a boy--just as delighted as with a girl--but I would also be completely shocked. I'm getting nonstop girl vibes.

Anyway, we'll find out for sure next month. The whole finding out the sex thing is funny--I've talked to several women who said that they wouldn't have been able to get through labor without the surprise of finding out whether the baby is a boy or a girl. Maybe I'm crazy, but it seems likely that the baby will still be of interest to me, even if I already have that information. Don't get me wrong; I think it's cool when people wait to find out. But I HATE waiting. Just waiting five more months to have this baby seems like an impossible task sometimes.

Timjim's first mail

2009-10-22T16:36:00.001-07:00

Mr. A emailed me yesterday morning to ask if we should subscribe to Parenting: The Early Years magazine, since it was being offered for free for some reason. We pondered whether it was worth while, since we'll probably end up on a million horrible mailing lists. This is probably also the first step towards turning into the kind of people nobody wants to be around because they start conversations with, "Just the other day, I was reading a fascinating article in Parenting . . ."

Anyway, we subscribed under the name Timjim Mr.A'sLastNameMyLastName. Timjim is so lucky to have thoughtful parents like us.

To be honest with you

2009-10-21T12:00:00.000-07:00

So, I haven't gained any weight yet, and over the past few days it's started to worry me. Most women don't gain weight during the first trimester, but I'm a couple of weeks into the second trimester now, and I should have at least a couple of pounds to show for it. I called my midwife, and she said I probably am not getting enough protein. Sigh.

I feel like a failure for not getting the baby what it needs. I also feel at a little bit of a loss as to how to eat all the crap I'm supposed to eat. Yes, okay, I could cut back on the chocolate.* But still, every day I'm supposed to eat, like, 17 servings of fruit and 22 vegetables and a giant pile of grains and make sure I get a ton of calcium and iron and fiber and to be honest with you, I'm hungry, but I'm not THAT hungry.

Okay, I'm going to go find an unsuspecting animal to eat. Later, internets.

*But I NEED IT.

Eventually a spit cup wasn't enough

2009-10-20T13:29:00.000-07:00

I lost my calendar for over a week and my life basically ground to a terrifying halt. Finally, yesterday, I found it. In my gym bag. So . . . yeah. I went back to the gym today.

I haven't been going mainly because I felt like I was a brave hero for just getting up every day with that cold/sinus thing. But also, the advice the books give you about exercising when you're pregnant is weird and slightly terrifying. They're all, "You must exercise right now. If you don't exercise your labor will last for 72 days and your baby will be a pathetic weakling and no one will ever love you again. Get off your FAT ASS." But the same books also have a lot of scary warnings: don't let your heart rate go up past a certain point, don't let your temperature rise, don't sweat (seriously?), don't do anything that might increase your chances of falling down--which for me includes just about everything.

So, as with much of the advice from the pregnancy books, I'm doing a combination of ignoring everything they say and synthesizing it into something I can handle. Basically, I still do my same exercise routine, but with a free pass not to push myself too hard. (Which, let's face it, isn't really a change since I'm not much of a self-pusher anyway.)

I've read--or at least skimmed--a lot of pregnancy books, and I'm here to tell you that they are mostly crazy. There are the cutsie ones,* which are vomitious and which we will not discuss here. Then there are the "serious" ones, which can be divided into the subcategories of hippie and doctor-y.

On the hippie side, there's some good stuff, but you also have ladies writing about how if you can't breastfeed, you are morally obligated to hire a wet nurse. A wet nurse? Really? Who am I, Juliet's mom? I'm probably more hippie woo-woo than most--I'm seeing midwives, for example, and I hope the nursing thing works out--but I am pretty sure that feeding your baby formula is unlikely to result in the end of Western civilization.

On the doctor-y side, you have books that treat pregnancy like a horrible disease that thankfully can be treated with surgery after 40 weeks. Basically, these books just contain encyclopedic lists of every single disgusting thing that can possibly happen to your body while you are knocked up. One of my favorite wacky symptoms? Excessive saliva. My friend/sister-in-law told me the story of a woman who had so much extra spit in her mouth all the time that eventually a spit cup wasn't enough, and she decided that she was just going to have to spit on her living room carpet. And she did.

*Most of these refer to the baby throughout as The Bump and have titles like "Messages from the Bump!" or "Bonding with Your Bump!"

Tim Jim

2009-10-17T16:44:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning with the conviction that I have finally more or less kicked this cold/sinus infection/snot disease, and I am SO HAPPY about it. Like, giddy. I still look like hell but I feel a thousand times better.

It has been pouring down rain the past couple of days and, although I may deny ever having said this if you bring it up later, I've really been enjoying it. The thing about Seattle, as perhaps I have mentioned, is that even though it's insanely wet all the time, it hardly ever RAINS. The air just kind of condenses on you as you walk through it, and it's clammy and gross. But lately we've been having real, honest-to-goodness storms, and thunderstorms are predicted for tonight. That's real weather! Exciting.

Yesterday, Mr. Awesome and I both stayed home because we had a steady stream of maintenance/contractor/appraiser/dead appliance-picker-upper type people coming through. In between appointments, we built a fire and watched some episodes of Mad Men (Season 2, should you care) and it was all very pleasant and restorative. That's one thing about bad weather--I feel guilty watching episode after episode of tv on dvd if it's nice out, but bad weather = full television pass. I believe tonight will be more of the same. Hopefully with fewer maintenance men.

**
**

I talked to my mom today about what she wants the baby to call her. She surprised me by rejecting all the standards outright: Grandma, Granny, Grammy, and MeMaw are all verboten. She's considering "Kitty" (her name is Katherine), but said, "You know, sometimes children get things wrong, and well, I'd rather not be known as 'Titty.'" Point taken, MeMaw.

I thought I had a great suggestion--Big Mama--but she shot that one right down. "But what would your father be called?" "Uh, BIG PAPA." Duh.

She did have a good idea for a boy name, though. "You know your great grandfather's name was Timothy, and your grandfather's name was James," she said. "So you could name the baby Timothy James. And call him Tim Jim."

Awesome.

Goverment get out

2009-10-14T19:33:00.000-07:00

Seriously, thanks so much everyone, for still giving even a tiny crap what I do, despite months of digital tumbleweeds. I am touched that anyone at all still subscribes to this blog.

I feel like it's sort of unfair to turn this into a pregnancy blog, since that's not what anyone signed up for. On the other hand, I've never done a very good job of sticking to the supposed theme of librarianism. I guess this will just continue to be a mixed bag of stuff that's probably not very interesting to anyone.

Do you have your Halloween costume picked out? I feel almost obligated to go as Rosemary, since I now have short red hair. We have also considered going as teabaggers/birthers. Mr. A. came up with this idea for sign, which I find hilarious: "Goverment get out of are schools and into my utarus."

Other costume thoughts? Ideas?

Blurg

2009-10-13T08:46:00.000-07:00

Thank you so much, everyone, for the kind wishes and congratulations. I want to respond to everyone individually--and I will, very soon. Right now, though, it seems like the cold I got late last week has turned into a sinus infection, and my brain is barely working. So please excuse the delay.

Aliens attack

2009-10-09T16:30:00.000-07:00

Ahem. Is this thing on?

So, guess what? I'm having a baby. True story--the action is supposed to take place in April.

I know there is nothing miraculous about getting knocked up; 17-year-olds do it every day without even trying. Still, I am a little bit amazed that Mr. A. and I could create a new person with just stuff we had lying around the house, as it were. (Does that sound smug? I hope not.)

I'm at 14 weeks now, which means the first trimester is over. I didn't get morning sickness, thank jebus. The evil thing about morning sickness is that you can't really call in sick for it. I strongly believe that anytime there is puking, the puker should get to immediately call DAY OVER. She should go home and hide under the covers and, if she can hold her head up, she should spend the rest of the day watching the BBC Pride and Prejudice on DVD.

She should not have to try to hide her puking from her coworkers and then bravely go back to typing at her computer or meeting with her boss or whatever. I hereby salute all the women who have done this. You are awesome, but I am glad I was not amongst you.

Symptom-wise, I have been pretty tired (to the point of narcolepsy, in the beginning), but that's gotten better lately. There is also the constant peeing, but you probably don't want to hear about that. And the gas. Wait, where are you going? Don't you want to hear about the magic of creation?

I had my first ultrasound on Monday, which was pretty rad: scientific proof that there is really somebody in there. I got two pictures, one where the baby appears to be boxing, and the other in which it's sucking its thumb. The ultrasound ended up lasting for well over an hour because the baby was bouncing all over the place, and refused to bounce into a certain position they wanted. Mr. A. said: Not even born, and already won't sit still for pictures.

The technician who did the ultrasound said, "That sure is one cute baby."

Am I crazy, or could it be that she was flattering me? For one thing, I think we all know in our hearts that every single ultrasound picture that has ever been taken looks pretty much exactly the same. I mean, sure, babies at 14 weeks do kind of look like cute babies--surprisingly so.

But they also kind of look like they might be planning an attack on Sigourney Weaver's spaceship. You know what I'm sayin'?