Monday, April 25, 2011

Easter do over?

So, we're well past the point of being able to claim rookie status on anything to do with parenting - especially providing magical delight for our children on holidays - but I kinda want to for this Easter!

We waited way too long to dye eggs (an hour before bedtime on Easter eve), used eco-friendly dye and brown eggs with rather sad results:

and of course, our biggest mistake was having the Easter Bunny hide plastic eggs in the front yard the night before we went to bed.
In the morning, I tiptoed to the front door, opened it ever so quietly and stepped outside to see how the yard looked, dotted with colorful eggs hidden in plain sight for our little girls...
Well, my anticipatory smile vanished in an instant. Oh, the carnage! What were we thinking?! We had basically laid out a feast for the neighborhood vermin. I should have taken photos, but I was too preoccupied with getting it cleaned up before the girls woke up.

But Sadie wasn't phased - she had a ball gathering up the remaining eggs; there were plenty, thankfully. We couldn't hide the fact that some had been pilfered, though - there were remnants of stickers and candy here and there in the dirt. I successfully shooed away a few eager birds and got Andrew to stand guard. We all observed a particularly brazen black squirrel sitting smugly in our tree as he noisily cracked into a pink plastic egg to get the chocolate inside. We watched as bits of shiny pastel foil floated down from the branches to the sidewalk. A thief and a litterer. I suppose I can't really blame him, though.

Better next year, I hope!

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Bad Dates

Last week I went to see my friend in a one woman show titled "Bad Dates". She was fabulous. Must get my hands on that script for monologue material.

Inserted in the program was a blank sheet inviting audience members to share their bad dates and there was a drawing at intermission for the "winner" of this backwards contest.

Guess who clinched it?

Yup.

Here's my entry. True story.


As an impossibly naive and utterly inexperienced college senior, I took a chance and gave my number to a cute guy at the bank. (1) After a couple of awkward phone conversations, I agreed to meet him for a late meal at Denny's. (2) We did not click. I never saw him again but maintained my pride at having gone out on a limb (3) UNTIL...
A few months later my father (3a) saved a newspaper clipping with the note "is this the guy you went out with?" attached to a report about a man who had just been sentenced to prison for rape.
It was he.
I've never given my number to a man since.

(1) I had never done anything even remotely as forward as this, but if you heard the whole story, you'd understand why it was kind of cute and totally understandable why I'd do such a thing. Really.
(2) I was living a very late night lifestyle, being in the theater, so meeting late at Denny's was not odd. And all of my roommates knew exactly where I was. I swear.
(3) I seriously think I told everyone I knew (even my father - 3a) that I had given my number to someone. It felt like a pivotal moment for me in a way. So pathetic.


So there you have it. I won a bottle of wine. I wanna hear YOUR bad date story. Yes, you.

Go on. It can't be worse than mine, can it? If it is, I'll mail you the bottle of wine. Seriously.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Bun is ONE!

argh...meant to post this yesterday...


4:43 PM April 9th, 2010 took a loooooooooooooooooong time to arrive. I am one of the lucky ones who loves being pregnant and really had a glorious second pregnancy, minus a bit of heartburn. I am one of the unlucky ones whose labors are very long. I'm talking 40+ hours long. Yeah. LONG.

I think the "worst" of it was that I was dilated to 9cm for about 8 hours (!) until finally someone (I honestly don't remember who) said "why don't we make certain that her water is broken?" and POW! out she shot in about 180 seconds. I remember so vividly being utterly incredulous at the increase in pain that coursed through me in those moments. The HOLY SH*T THIS IS IT realization hit me like a truck. I remember the wild fear and panic and desperation that I completely succumbed to with only my doula's eyes to stare into, only her hands to clutch with all of my might. All of those serene, strong mantras from the hypno-birthing CD went right out the window at that point.

I CAN'T DO THIS!
Yes, you can.
NO I CAN'T!
Yes, you can. Janine, you're doing it.
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. . .

It is beyond ironic that Andrew had just left my side only for a few minutes; the same few minutes when that someone (who was it?!) decided to break my water. Yes, he missed Lilah's entrance into the world. It could be funny except it's not. But it's not tragic either, though. I think I've done a pretty good job at being okay with this cruel fact because I think I believe in things happening for a reason. And I think it might have been pretty traumatic for him to witness me in the throes of primal, guttural sounds and emotions of the last few seconds of labor. But let's be honest - what is my option in terms of how to deal with that? Be bitter for the rest of my life? No thanks. It only hurts when I really really really think about it - and when I recently heard that my friend's husband got to catch his newborn son last month. Can't think of anything more awesome than that for a man to do. Really can't.

Anyway, he was there seconds later - the pictures prove it - and we cried and smiled and kissed and pressed our sweaty foreheads together - our hearts pounding in unison as we gazed down at our new, perfect love. Our new baby girl. Another girl! Another daughter! A new soul for our family and for the universe.

Her birth is without a shadow of a doubt the Thing I Am Most Proud Of In My Life. No drugs. The real deal. I allowed myself to want that kind of birth which is, to say the least, not honored/suggested/supported/etc. in today's birthing culture. I'll admit it. I wanted it. I wanted it badly. I was determined to "join that club" even though women are sort of denied bragging rights (for lack of a better term) about natural birth because it's considered insensitive to women who choose not to/can't/didn't have one. The whole "you don't get a medal" mentality for having an unmedicated birth is so common and while I understand it, I find it pretty annoying. The difference between Sadie's and Lilah's births are night and day. Okay I'd better move on before this turns into a serious rant!

Lilah is such a special girl. She's loud. She's demanding. She's daring. She's not easy to please. She's aggressive. She's fast. She's a very quick study. She is an impressive mimic. She snuggles. She's the definition of a Daddy's girl. She doesn't need as much sleep as the rest of us do, apparently. She is her own little person with her own big agenda and she will have no trouble navigating through her life, there's no doubt about it.
(click on picture to see larger)
Happy 1st birthday to my baby. She is a joy to behold and I could not be more proud to be her mama.