Friday, April 24, 2009

The Poet

He's the one Pop-Pop calls The Professor. He's the one I call my "Diggy Boy" because I completely dig him just so much. And here's a little bitta how come.... Growing somewhat house-bored yesterday, Grayson laid himself on his back right next to me while I nursed Abby for the millionth time. Here he discovered running in the air. After a few minutes of this he says, "Look Mommy! My kick are feeting!" and they were. His little kicks were feeting a mile a minute and we both sat in awe to watch such a happy dance.

And then during lunch Sadie had a stare down with Grayson over a dinosaur shaped chicken nugget. Her chops were salivacious and even her nose was running. Grayson looks at her with empathy and says, "Mommy, Sadie needs a tissue. Her nose is crying."

And the best one of all came when he was sleep talking. After our usual rocking and singfest I put him down for bed and he says to me (before I utter a word) "I love you too, Mommy. I love you so much. Do you know where my red hammer go?" Sweet as Shakespeare, dark as Poe. That's my Diggy Boy.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

April Udpate

April was a good month. We had the Pecors from MD come to visit for Easter weekend and everyone had a blast. Our neighbors and dear friends Marni & Vinny came over for our "Sunday Easter Ham" dinner on Saturday...which was a chicken roast. Unorthodox times two. Hey, I'm still shell-shocked from three months of straight baby crying from dawn til dusk. I'm just tickled the house didn't go up in flames that weekend.

Aunt Christie baked this beautiful (and delicious) Easter Bunny cake that was sliced into w/a butcher's knife thanks to Uncle Eric. He's always a crowd pleaser. :) (even though someone here looks a little worried.) Grayson and his cousin Landon searched for Easter eggs inside (it was cold outside) which proved to be a good time for SuperBoy and ArgyleBunny.

Miss Abigail was all dressed up in her Easter "bonnet."

And the shades are for her road trip to Va that she took w/Mommy & Daddy (while big brother enjoyed the day at home w/Nam&Pop). She was AMAZING the entire ride down to Va and back. Abby must've known her parents weren't up for any shaninagans that afternoon; we all had our game face on and FOUND A HOUSE that we loved and one that wasn't already taken. Less than a week later, we got approved for the rental and we'll be moving to Falls Church, Virginia by July 9. It's going to be one bittersweet move for all four of us (okay, five b/c Ninna loves her house, family, friends/neighbors too) b/c it's going to be so hard to move away from those we love here but the prize will be living closer to the ones we love there. At least it's not across the country (yahoooo, no New Orleans for us this time around, sorry Harry Connick), or worse yet, OUT of the country so we're happy and looking forward to the year ahead. Next task at hand? Garage sale this Sat. Anyone in need of a stuffed rocking Eeyore?

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

A Little Trip Down Memory Lane

An old find... I just unearthed it and laughed so hard my teeth hurt so wanted to share w/you! It's not Abby, it's Grayson between 4-6 mos. He was reacting to me whistling a song. Needless to say it was the last song I whistled for a very long time.
I am a saver. I get it from my grandma, Boompa. She would literally put four peas and three carrots in a small bowl and sweetly cocoon them in Saran Wrap to be added to tomorrow's dish. She would save other things too, like wildlife. Boompa spent her (very!) hard earned money not on herself but on the ASPCA, Humane Society, and other philanthropies dedicated to helping all things have a better life. I am not as generous with my time or money yet but I'm glad I did get the saving gene from my dear grandmother and here's why:

In an effort to cull large quantities of pure stuff boxed up in our basement I began with old notebooks from college. I chose a few dilapidated looking ones with corners curving toward the sun, no doubt looking for resurrection. They found it. Let me tell you how much I enjoyed going through the pages of those old notebooks! It was better than any VHS home video I could've come across. Evidently, when I was in my late teens and early twenties I felt the need to chronicle every dark emotion that coursed my veins. Evidently, I considered myself quite the tortured soul and oozed love, hate, and quirky through every single pore because the pages told me so. Up from those yellowing diaries sprang a girl who had a great vocabulary (what happens to post baby brains anyway?), a zest for the dramatic, and a flair for zinging people who never received the zing because the page was still there, in tact and never sent (thank goodness). I found old letters to the boyfriends, to the boys who never wanted to be my boyfriend (yeah, you know who you are, you unscathed lads), to the nobody in particular, to the cosmos, to the girls who ticked me off for looking at me sideways (told you, DRAmaTIC!). Thrown in for good measure were drippy poems or halfway melodies purporting my love for birds, trees, meadows and oh yes, my eternal love: chocolate. At least I had that one right.

I'm so glad I saved these writings because otherwise I'd never know. I'd never know how far I've come from being so ungainly serious. I'd never know how much more fun I am to be around nowadays in my delirious sleepless haze and uninhibited running around in my socks. Don't get me wrong, at one time I needed to be that girl, so serious and affected. I must have loved her solidarity and romantic view of the world. I must've admired her sense of fairness and equality. But my GAWD, did I really think I had it so rough? Did I really believe what I was writing? What I'd love to do is pitter patter back in time to visit that size 6 (yeah, I admit it now since I'm pretty much a double digit lady now!) beatnik flowy skirt girl and frap her upside her clueless little head. I'd love to show her these stretch marks, swollen fingers (still!), and silver strands to let her see how flawless her life really was. OH, and these chestnut sized circles under my eyes that no amount of vanishing cream can vanish? Yeah, they're from four YEARS of interrupted "sleep" and not hours spent VOLUNTARILY at some studio recording hours and hours of songs I tortured myself over while subsequently never taking the time to finish. And I cried tired then...have mercy.

In honor of my former self, I'm going to read and catalog each sorrow-filled notebook. I know for a fact I'm going to need a good laugh if I reach 83. The irony there is that by that time, I will not recognize the woman who took the time to organize these old notebooks but that's not important. What's important to me is that I saved myself, for all those years, through all those moves, and through each cardboard box cleansing. I'm glad I didn't throw me away. It would've been easy and even tempting to deep six 'em all but I'm happy I didn't. Maybe one day Grayson and/or Abby will come across these gems and identify with the self-love and self-loathing of a twenty-something and realize how human their mom really was. That she wasn't always the brainless idiot playing air drums in the living room for a cheap laugh. Nevertheless, I think it's good to save yourself from time to time... even if that means carrying a heavier box load into your next move. :)

Sunday, April 5, 2009


Make Faces

Take Time to Create Your Own Game

Rest When Tired

Slay Your Dragons...

...and protect those you love.

Think Hard

Stand Up for Yourself

Have Excellent Hygiene

And Smile Often!