An apple a day...

If only it were this simple to keep all health problems at bay. Those farmer's market honeycrisp apples are really terrific though.
Domingo has his 12 month check up this week, and is scheduled to get his vaccines on Saturday. Coming from a family of "true believers" and being a pretty hard core true believer myself, it is not without trepidation that I type this post.
With all the news and articles and coverage recently about autism, and boys, and possible links to vaccinations, I am a little ashamed to admit, I'm really quite scared to death of it. I know on a certain (deeply buried, rational) level, that what I am really afraid of is the unknown, and there are oh so many unknowns that come with parenting. Were I to get off my lazy butt and do some research, inform and arm my (almost non-existent, rational) self with actual facts about the subject, I would probably feel much better, and still make the decision to vaccinate.
Instead I'm hypnotized into hysteria by Larry King Live, and internet blogs and radio snippets, that collectively build up this mythic "AUTISM" that currently houses all my parental anxieties. I'm not saying that autism is a myth, (of course) just the version in my head is not entirely based in reality. I have just enough information to be whipped into a frenzy, but not enough to actually have an informed opinion. I am, I feel, naturally, and rationally concerned because boys are more likely than girls to develop autism, and, hey, my son, HE's a boy. Therefore, (here comes the not rational part) I now must scrutinize every little thing he does, or doesn't do, and analyze it: is that normal? is that a "warning sign"? what about my "mother's intuition", what is that saying? do I even have any? am I insane? (I alreadly know the answer to the last one).
I remember having similar feelings of anxiety when Domingo was a teeny tiny newborn, and everything was a DANGER! I would often place my hand lightly on his sleeping chest just to make sure he was breathing. I would freak because he absolutely refused a pacifier, and there was research that showed babies who use pacifiers were less likely to have breathing problems in thier sleep. And he was a boy, again, more statistics to add to my worries! I would wake up and go over to his bassinette and lean down so close to his face and not move or breathe until I could hear his soft whispery breaths. Even though I knew the biggest risk factors for breathing problems were related to smoking, and I am just about the most vehemently anti-smoking person I know, I still did not let it go until after Domi was 4 months, the statistical "you can relax now" point. At the time, I chalked this up to new parent jitters. Yeah, no one told me that those don't go away, ever.
New parents or not, for this generation, every one before it, and every one to come, there is always something to be worried about with children, every step of the way. Yesterday it was SIDS, today it's autism, tomorrow it will be day care, then schools, then college, then sex, then drugs, (then rock and roll? oh wait, not that one) where does it end? It NEVER ends. That realization alone is enough to send me hyperventilating in the corner. Either there, or running to my OB for that IUD I've been eyeing.
The thing to realize here is that I'm a worrier, I think it's genetic. (Oh God, I hope I didn't pass that on to Domingo!) I want the very best for him, and I want to make every right decision for him, which I know is impossible, which is why I worry.
The key to managing my predisposition towards chicken little-ism is maintaining perspective. My son is a wonder. He is a joy to everyone who is lucky enough to get to be around him. What ever happens in his life, I'll be there to worry, to cheer, and to hold my breath until I know everything is fine, and then for God's sake to turn off the tv/internet/radio/voice in my head and just go to bed already.

A tale of two Daddies

Now before I begin, I want to first say, I'm not one to begrudge my devoted spouse any bones Domingo decides to throw his way. I know that I'm pretty much number one in Domi's book. I think on some level he knows I'm the one who feeds him, soothes him in the middle of the night, cuddles and sings to him, and maybe even the one who's body is still not back to normal over a year after his birth! I see it in his face when we play, when he wakes up in the morning and wants to snuggle with me, when he asks to nurse before bed, or when I'm doing something like making breakfast or brushing my teeth and my undivided attention is not on the boy and he tries to pull my pants down. It's also pretty obvious when he's tired and crabby, or just out of sorts, he looks for me and wants to be with mama.
That said, I do have two complaints I would like to put to the court of internet public opinion so I can be affirmed in my outrage and feelings of WRONG!
So, the other day Domi and I were looking at pictures on the wall and I was asking him, where's mama, dada, abuela, Sofia, Graciela. He was pointing and clapping and we were laughing. Then I asked, "who is that?" while pointing at Chris, and Domi said "Dada". I clapped and laughed and was genuinely happy that Domingo said Dada and knew what it meant, even if it was before he said "Mama" and knew what it meant. We called Dada to tell him and he was pretty excited. He deserves it, I'm not jealous I swear! But, when I pointed at a picture of me, and asked "who is that?" he just stared blankly back at me as if to say, "woman, if you don't recognize yourself in a photo, you are beyond my help." Ok, so he doesn't say mama, no big whoop. We went into his room and were playing and reading, and we were reading one of his many animal books signing different animals. We got to a picture of a walrus, and I did this silly Nixonesque voice saying "es una Morsa que brama en mi oido". Domingo thought that was the funniest thing he had ever seen. He literally peed his pants. He was laughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath, but was hysterically signing for more and more and more of mommy's silly Morsa!
When Chris got home, I told him about our awesome day, and he wanted demonstrations of what had occurred. So we went to the picture and sure as sugar, Domi said Dada. Then Chris wanted to see what was so funny. I said it was kind of a "in the moment" kind of thing and didn't think we could recreate it, but he wanted to try anyway. So I got out the book, and Domi went to the Morsa page and I said in my jowl-shakingest voice "es una Morrrrrsssa". Nothing. Barely half a smirk that said, oh you poor tired woman, that joke is so two hours ago. I assured Chris that it was hilarious not two hours before. I tell you that story so I can tell you this one, then you decide, am I being overly sensitive? (correct answer NO.)
So here we are today. Domi was awesome as usual, playing and laughing and being an all around swell fella. We get Domi in the bath and then Chris starts with the Morsa routine. Oh, it was only the funniest thing Domingo had ever seen, a laugh riot. Chris was like, "you try." So I said it, and I only got the same patronizing half smile. Dada does it and he's completely cracked up. CHRIS STOLE MY JOKE!!! And killed with it. Completely uncool, any comedian will tell you the same, you do not steal someone else's material. He is always doing that to me, I say something funny, and he says it two seconds later like he just thought of it. It is infuriating!
Issue the second: Later, we were lotioning and potioning etc., and then it was time to nurse. I calmed down with the whole joke theft and was wrapped up in the sweet cuddly closeness in the darkened room while we nursed and recited the bedtime story. Ah, even if he did say Dada first, Domi knows on which side his "pan" is buttered. So I'm looking down adoringly at my beautiful child, and he looks up points at Chris and says "Dada". "Yes, that's Dada" we both coo. He then looks up with pure love in his eyes, points at me and says in the cutest little voice you've ever heard, "Papa".

Perfection wrapped in seaweed

Tuesday night Chris and I went out on a very belated anniversary dinner date. Our friends Ed and Sarah said they'd watch the beast (both of them) and we went to Mirai sushi, the setting where a little over 5 years ago, Chris and I were engaged. I have to say, Tuesday night was one of the best meals I've had in recent memory. It maybe one of the top 10 meals I've had, in a restaurant, ever. I've eaten there loads of times before, but this meal was the best ever. I normally curb my rhapsodizing about meals, and food memories, and eating on this blog, because really, what does that have to do with the baby? BUT, I just have to go into detail about dinner, I was sitting in traffic on Wednesday composing this blog post in my head. It was THAT good. Chris offered to budget 10 meals a year at this place, he is willing to put off buying a house to eat here. I must say, if every meal was like that, it would be worth it.

First we ordered drinks, Chris had a Sapporo beer, which happens to be brewed where Gustavo is staying right now (Sapporo, Japan), and I had a peach and passion fruit sake "martini". (It was served in a martini glass, but that's all that was martini about it) Then came our first course. Every time we eat at Mirai we order this incredible baked crab dish that always come out first. It is always the most delicious two bites of the meal. Chris and I both were remarking that it's almost a shame that it is the first thing that comes out, but that way you're still hungry and just slightly warm from your beverage as you taste the best part of the meal. It really is perfection wrapped in seaweed.
After the Kani Nigiri, we had the rest of our Nigiri pieces. We also always order the tuna combination, an array of lean, medium and high fatty blue fin tuna. I don't know how or why this particular tuna is better than tuna I've ever eaten anywhere else, but it is. I know that blue fin is not the most responsible fish to eat, but I figure that we only eat it once in a blue(fin) moon, so we're only slightly contributing to the disappearance of a most delicious creature. We also had some big eye tuna, and salmon. Everything was amazing.
Next came our maki. The rolls were unreal. First came the Tuna Tuna Salmon, poached salmon wrapped in rice with tuna and tobiko on top with this really delicious sauce. Then came the "special suke" (salmon). It was panko fried shrimp inside rice with salmon on top. Chris described it as "God's popcorn". Finally we had the "special maki", it was spicy tuna and octopus with a ponzo sauce. It was delicious, but probably my least favorite thing of the night, which is saying something because it's usually one of my favorite things ever.
The whole meal was pretty much flawless. If I could eat this meal again tomorrow I would. But I suppose I should take a page out of Chris's book of enjoying the anticipation more than the actual event, so I'll just enjoy reliving this meal for awhile until we can go back, maybe for anniversary number 5.

More birthdays, W is for Winnie the Pooh, and why we will never move away

I promise not to do this side by side comparison thing all year, but I just thought it was pretty remarkable that one year ago we celebrated Abuelo's birthday and Domi was a week old. Last year, Domi was a little yellow peanut asleep in the car seat on the kitchen floor as we ate an enormous dinner (surprised?). This year he was sitting at the table, sampling bits of this and that and laughing with us as Abuela handed tio Ian a knife she heated in the fire of the stove to try and melt through the Winnie the Pooh birthday cake. Sadly, I don't look that different do I? (I have lost a bit more wieght since then, but now OVER a year post-partum, I think the "baby weight" excuse is a little played)

We had a wonderful dinner of paella, that rivaled my brother's delicious paella that we had in Boston. Abuelo got some nice presents that we bought on our mall excursion the day before. It turns out that Domingo is a lot like his father in that he doesn't have much patience for shopping. So sad for me, since aside from food, shopping is one thing that makes me very, very happy. (It's also sad that the more I eat, the less I can shop because the worse I look in clothes!) Then we had to burn through the ice cream cake we bought for the birthday.

Look at that little imp tongue.


Earlier that morning, Leticia and I went for a jog as Chris watched the kids, and then we came home and had kringle for breakfast and the girls watched Winnie the Pooh. Graciela informed me that hers was shaped like W, W is for Winnie the Pooh. It's remarkable to me that in 2 short years, Domingo will be a walking talking little kid like these girls. They move from one obsession to the next, last week Robin Hood, this week Winnie the Pooh. They have opinions and ideas, and imaginations and their brains are like sponges. They remember that they came to my house and we went to the zoo and saw the tiger's collar. They want to do that again. I barely remember that we did that!
When I went over to their house Friday to watch them before Leticia got home, they were supposed to be taking a nap. They were jumping and playing and making a ruckus. I stood at the door where they couldn't see me and said in my most authoritative voice, "girls, go to sleep". I saw Sofia sprint to her bed and then one of them whispered "was that mommy or daddy?" and the other said "I think mommy". Later they were still playing, but every once in a while you'd hear "shhh", because they knew they were supposed to be asleep. They asked my dad how old he was going to be, he said 70, they told my mom that she needs to get a lot of candles.



They are so incredible, I'm really glad that we (and Domi) get to see them so much and they will grow up together.
I love going to my parents', hanging out with the primas, and watching them play. Domingo is just starting to be an interactive playmate. He can hug and kiss them, he crawls through the couch cushion forts, and unfortunately he takes their books and when they snatch them back starts to cry, so the girls have to hear that all familiar refrain of, he's littler than you so you have to take care of him. I'm not sure they appreciate that part, but I think in time they'll see him as another worthy playmate, or at the very least someone else to blame for thier mischief.

And yet another reason why we love living here is the familial support system. I don't know how people do it if they live away from their families. Today I had to go into work on my day off (the HORROR!!) and we really can't afford to pay Ana for overtime for situations like this. Luckily and thankfully, tia Jennifer said she could hang out w/ D for a bit this morning, so I dropped off the baby and the dog (she didn't sign up for that, but you want the baby, you get the smelly dog too!) and ran off to work for a few hours. She said they had a wonderful time, went to the park, the library, the coffee shop, etc. Then I got back, and we all went out for lunch. It was great. We will never be able to repay our families for all the great stuff they do for us, but I have a feeling getting to be around this guy at least makes it worth their while.

Up with photos!

Here are some pictures from Domingo's birthday party. I have been crazy busy with work, so that's why I've been so delinquent. But I think there will be a reprieve at the end of this week. (knocks furiously on wood)
So, not much of a substantive post, but enjoy the photos!

Here's proof we ran in races this weekend





International birthday fare, Italian beef sandwiches, Russian potato salad, Ceviche tostadas, Thai spring rolls and of course, Sangria!



Lovely ladies


The famed "smash cake"



Birthday song


Big kid cake


PRESENTS!!!


Close to meltdown time

SO MUCH FUN!

Happy B-day little one!

12th month in review!

In addition to your birthday post, I figured I should write a quick recap of what you've been up to this past month. I want to keep doing this for at least a while, because you change so much even from day to day, that if I only did a post updating on your birthday, I'm sure I'd never remember anything, and the entry would be one sentence long: "Dear Domi, this year you grew, the end." This way, I can remember that this month you became obsessed with putting thing "in", and once an object was "in" you clap. It's really very funny.
Also this month mommy and daddy have taken some initiative and made an attempt to baby-proof the place. I say attempt because three days after we put the foam corners on the tables you finally noticed them and ripped them off. Also I don't know who, and I'm not saying it was you, but some one broke the baby lock in the bathroom. The kitchen lock is still firmly in place, but time and time again, I try to throw something in the trash and practically yank my arm off before I remember to unlock it first. This was the least of my problems, since daddy didn't tell me how to unlock the toilet before I desperately had to go and began screaming that I was going to have to pee in the shower if he didn't get in there and open the toilet! So baby-proofing has had some setbacks, but we are committed to a baby-proof infancy.
To add to my danger paranoia, you've also started "cruising" very tentatively. However, you are such a lightning fast crawler, I still think walking is a long way off, a few months at least. (PLEASE!) The other thing you've started is when ever you are pulled up on something and you drop to the ground you say "boom". I'm wondering if you took a particularly nasty tumble at one point because you are super cautious about dropping down, and usually ask for someone's hand to help out. Or maybe Ana just always puts her hand out for you and you've gotten used to that kind of attentive care. Not to worry, you're only home alone with mommy 2 days a week, really, how much damage can I do in that time?
You have learned a few new signs, but I think your wants out pace your vocabulary by far, so pointing and grunting and crying when I can't figure it out is usually the order of the day. It must be very frustrating to know exactly what you want, say a bottle of beer, point to it, say it perfectly clearly (in your own language) and have your mother turn around and hand you a grapefruit and act like it's the greatest toy in the world. I'm sorry. Soon enough you'll be able to say what you want in a language I can understand and I'll be able to say to you, no, have a grapefruit. Trust me, it's progress.
This month had some milestones as well. You are now no longer rear facing! whoo hoo! You can see the world as it's coming at you rather than as it passes by. Actually what this means is that our little Jetta feels very cramped as you kick the front seats from your throne in the rear.

You are also now introduced to baby crack a.k.a. the juice box.

We usually try to cut it with water, but you are not often fooled. You have become a pro at drinking from a straw though, and are getting pretty close to getting rid of the bottle.
What you are not close to getting rid of, and make no bones about it, is nursing. Every time you ask to nurse during the day I'm giving you milk from a bottle. Sometimes you go for it, other times you don't. I'll keep nursing at night and first thing in the morning for a while, as long as my supply can keep up, so we'll see what happens.

You are still very into planes and cars and mechanical things. You can sit for long stretches of time just looking out your window at the planes going by. And whenever you hear one you'll look up and make the sign for plane.
You also love music, and love your music cube and cds. you clap and dance and always sign more when we sing, especially in the car.
You are becoming so social too, (this is most definitely from your father, or maybe Ana's influence) you wave at pretty much everyone who makes eye contact with you and smile shyly when they wave back. You also laugh all the time, sometimes even this fake laugh if other people are laughing, you'll let out this totally fake guffaw, like "I get it, haha!" It's very funny, so we usually laugh again, causing the laugh riot to continue.
I've been having a great time on my days off with you, running errands, going to the park, and just hanging out with you. I'm not looking forward to summer ending, but fall would be my favorite season if it weren't for winter at the end of it. But this winter we have a BIG trip to Paraguay planned and it's summer there during our winter, so that will make it a bit more tolerable. So I'll put my pessimistic ways aside for now and we can just enjoy the last lingering warm days, and the freedom that comes with no overcoat, at least for now.
love,
mama

after the cake settles...

Today we had our little birthday party for Domingo, and it was a total success! We had yummy food, great cake, and Domi made out like a bandit. Most importantly, all our family and some friends were here, abuela and abuelo (who made all the food and drinks) tia may, grandma and farfar, tia Leticia and tio Ian and Sofia and Graciela, tia Heather and tio James, and tia Jennifer, tio Max and Freya and Theo, tio Justin and tia Karina and Emma and Mateo. Before we had his party, I thought it'd be a good idea to run a half marathon to celebrate the marathon of child birth a little over a year ago today. So without nearly as much preparation as I should have done, I managed to hobble across the finish line in a little over 2 hours. It was actually a really great experience. I think I will keep this as a tradition, maybe not a half marathon, but running a race each year on the weekend of Domingo's birthday. It was nice to do something for me to commemorate his birthday. And everyone got into the athletic spirit, Chris ran a race on Saturday too! Not to be too healthy, today I had a giant ham and cheese croissant, two giant pieces of cake, a huge beef sandwich, potato salad, shrimp ceviche and like 5 glasses of white wine sangria, AWESOME! Ok, birthday pictures to come, now I'm off to ice my knees and pass out next to the birthday boy.

Happy Birthday Domi!

Domingo today is your birthday. You are one year old. I cannot believe how quickly time flies. At the same time, I can't believe it's only been a year since you've been in our lives. I cannot imagine life without you and don't even really remember what it was like before you. You've changed so much over the past year it's hard to believe you are the same little peanut that was all squished up inside my "world's shortest torso". You're wearing same hat as in the picture below.


This is you, one minute on the outside. You've still got that giant dimple in your chin, and those chubby cheeks. But other than that, you are a completely different animal!
The 12 month update will be forthcoming, but today I thought I'd take a look back at where we all were a year ago today.
Well, actually, your birth story is not all that dramatic, so let's start a little bit further back. This is a warning upfront: this is a long detailed pregnancy and birth story not for the squeamish or easily bored.
At about 7 weeks gestation, around 2 weeks after the two little blue lines appeared, I started bleeding a little bit, so we went and got an ultrasound to see what was up, and there you were, a little amorphous blob that we dubbed "the bean". Well, trouble from the start, you decided that your heart rate wasn't going to be racing during that ultrasound, so we got another the next week. By then the bleeding went away and you said, 'ok this heart rate thing is not worth freaking anyone out about' so it was up to normal by the next week.
Things were pretty quiet for a while except for the sounds of mommy retching her brains out every morning for weeks. This would often happen as I was walking to court and would smell the diesel from the buses downtown. I was never so glad for Daley's obsession with garbage cans on every block.
So a few weeks went by without incident, until one morning very early, we had a big scare, and woke up in a puddle of blood. We went to the ER and the resident said that there was nothing we could do and you were lost. I have never felt so miserable in all my life as in those few minutes, and hope against hope that I will never ever feel that way again. But a little while later, another doctor came in, looked around on the ultrasound, and said everything was fine. I had a subchorionic hemorage that was causing some trouble, but it wasn't that big and they said there was a good chance that it would get better all by itself, and that there was nothing to do but wait it out. We went home and took it easy for a few days, and after a while, everything was going great. We soon found out you were no longer a bean, but a boy! We made audio tapes talking and singing to you, you will hear them and be totally embarrased one day.
But like abuela says, boys are trouble, right from the start, and you didn't want us to take you for granted, so at about 28 weeks, Fourth of July weekend to be exact, you decided to shake things up a bit, and I went into preterm labor. So I was stuck in the hospital for 2 days getting shots and drugs and trying to keep your anxious little butt inside. No more work for the rest of the pregnancy, and took medicines, started hypnotherapy and other hippy ways to keep you from coming early. Thankfully you cooperated. It wasn't until September 7, 2006 at 3:30 a.m. that you decided to make your grand entrance into the world.
The night before, Daddy and I were supposed to go to our last hypnobirthing class (we had used hypnosis to keep you in, now we wanted to use it to get you out!) but decided to skip it since it was going to be on nursing and bathing and what to expect after the baby comes. We figured we'd be pros at all that stuff, so we hung out with tia Heather that night instead. We had dinner, watched a movie and she decided to stay the night. We went to bed, and at about 12:30 a.m., I woke up when I turned from one side to the other and heard and felt a tiny little pop. I ran to the bathroom and all this fluid came whooshing out. After Daddy had a silent freak out because "whoa, this is really happening", we called the doctor, who told us to go to the hospital and have them page her when we were ready to go. She didn't tell me this until later, but she thought it'd be some time after her lunch meeting. Just two days before we had been in her office and I was only 2 cm dialated, so she thought it'd be a while. We woke up tia Heather with a very cliche "it's time" and I got in the shower and started thinking all my lovely hypno-thoughts. I wasn't uncomfortable until I squatted down in the shower trying to use gravity and your giant head to gently make my cervix open. After a few seconds of that feeling, I decided not to try that again. After I got out of the shower, I had a cup of tea, and we were off to the hospital. By the time we were in the car I began rethinking my thoughts on pain management. If there was no way of knowing how much longer I'd have to be in labor, or if they said it'd be hours and hours, I think an epidural would have been in the cards. But as soon as we got to the hospital, the doctor said we were complete and ready to push! They called Irma, she came flying down the highway and after a botched IV attempt by our flaky nurse, we were ready to go. Daddy was taking pictures and chatting with the nurses, and telling them about tia Leticia and your primas. The nurse said I was very calm for being complete, I must have been since I didn't bite Daddy's head off for being so chatty and taking my picture while I was feeling very strong contractions. The hypnotherapy works!
Once it was time to push, I didn't really know what I was doing, and I was actually afraid to push at first, but once I figured it out, it went very quickly. The crazy nurse kept wandering around the room, and I had to be obnoxious and snap at her to get back over to the bed to hold my leg when the contractions were coming so I could push. I actually didn't want to be on my back for the labor. I had read all these hippy books about labor, sitting up, squatting down, in the back of a bus, but Irma said that this way really worked, and if we pushed for a while without much progress we could try something else, so we gave it a try. Well less than a half an hour after we started pushing, we saw your little head full of curly black hair, then a second later your slippery skinny body came sliding out. Daddy cried because he had just seen a miracle and I was exhilarated. Your sweet, warm, naked, screamy, wiggly body was placed on my chest, and I looked into your beautiful face and smiled.
Since then, it's been a year of new adventures, and I think we've all learned a lot, especially me. You are the sweetest boy I've ever met. I love you more than you can ever imagine.
Happy birthday my darling boy.
love,
mama

A farewell to pumping...

Today was a momentous day in Domi's world. It was my last time at the pump. I am ecstatic beyond words. I wanted to take a picture with my pump and then throw it out the window. But I didn't do either. I will give it a giant smooch before I sterilize the pieces, washout the cooler and put it away, perhaps for another day in the far off future. I will say, now that I'm no longer cursing it's invention, that that pump was a gold mine. I don't know how much we saved from not having to ever buy formula, but I bet it was a tidy little bundle. I should go out right now and buy myself a present with all the money I saved!
I've talked about this with other mothers, particularly my fellow lactator at work, and I feel like now is definitely the right time to stop. We made it to our goal of breast milk for a year, Domingo is now starting to drink whole milk mixed with breastmilk, and as the frozen stock pile dwindles, the mixture will squew more and more towards whole milk until that's all there is. So it was just time. I mean, it's not like you get a medal for longest pumper (but if you did, man I would be all over it!) Although I am pretty darn amazed at the marvel of the human body. My body produced Domingo's entire diet for 6 months, and the bulk of his diet for a year. Domingo is made of milk, that I made. That is pretty incredible, especially considering the size of that boy.
We will probably continue nursing in the morning and at night before bed at least for a little while, we'll see how long the supply will last, but I would really like to cut him off from the over-night boob-buffet. I think weaning Domingo completely will be a bit of a trick as he's really grown accustomed to it as part of his bedtime routine, as well as a source of comfort. He asks to nurse in sign language pretty much as soon as we get him out of the tub, and first thing in the morning he wants to have a cuddle and some nursing time. Although on the few occasions when we haven't been the ones to put him to sleep, he doesn't seem to miss it. I don't want to cut him off cold turkey, especially now that he can articulate that that is what he wants, but I do want to gently encourage him towards weaning, and other sources of comfort and self-soothing. As touchy as those words are, I really believe there is a lot of value in the whole self-soothing concept and want to encourage that in Domi.
As a somewhat unrelated aside, I slept in my aunt's bed until I was like 11 years old, so, not really much of the self-soother myself, but that doesn't mean I don't think it's important.

All these little milestones don't really seem like such a big deal at the time, but looking back, pumping was such a huge part of my life for the last 8 months (I only pumped once a day or so for the 4 months while I was on maternity leave) and now it is over. I suppose I could feel a little meloncholy over it, but I don't at all. Pumping, especially at work, was such a drag, and a total time drain. I hope to use those extra 30 minutes a day to be more productive and get home earlier! (Yeah right! What it will actually mean is I don't have an excuse to close my door w/ my "enter at your own risk" sign so I can go online and read my daily dose of blogs! I'll have to sneak it in at lunch.)
I'm sure I'll feel a little whistful when we actually quit nursing, but I am really looking forward to wearing bras that don't give me "double cleavage" as Chris puts it.
So it's with a grateful sigh of relief that I bid adieu to my pump in style. No longer will it need to reassure me with its' eerie mechanical "goodjob goodjob" and then hear my sharp inhale as it changes gears to "feelthebeat feelthebeat". Ah mammeries, I mean, memories. No we shall not say goodbye, but only, until next time, Medela pump in style, until next time.

Photo essay of our time at the cottage

Family photo on the deck.


Dinner in South Haven.


Typhoid Jenny. BTW- No cold symptoms for Domi as of today's date!


Three generations of Sverres.


Give your dog a bone.


Iconic photo.


Super Cool!


Beach bum.

Domi's World Secrets, REVEALED!!

Sorry we've been incommunicado this past week, here's a little baby beefcake to make up for it! After the storm of the century, Domi et al, hightailed it out of here and went to the Michigan dunes for a week of fun in the sand and sun. It was a super nice and relaxing week, I'm just so sad it's over. I have loads of pictures to upload, much to talk about, and the all important 12 month update to get on here! (WHAT? 1 year already! I can't believe it!!!!)
But first I've had a few inquiries about some statements and photos recently made on Domi's world.
First, the Elvis photo:
A few weeks ago, we were at my parents' house and the neighbors had this insane party with pineapple centerpieces, flower leis, karoake, Cubs/White Sox baggo, an Elvis impersonator, this weird dancing bald guy who called himself "Mr. Six", and Otis the Town Drunk, and Barney Fife from the Andy Griffin show impersonators. It was completely surreal. Chris said it was like a Fellini movie meets Nick at Nite. The twins were somewhat apprehesive at first, but they saw other little girls dancing and playing with Elvis, so they joined the fun. It was the weirdest party I have ever been to, and I've been to some strange get togethers.
Second, the house comment.
Chris and I have been thinking for awhile now that it would be nice to have our own place, with a yard and a gas range, but mainly, laundry facilities of our very own. You know, the stuff dreams are made of. So we have been doing a lot of online house hunting, which consists of Chris sending me houses saying, "wouldn't this be great?" and me replying "yes let's get it!" and then coming home and sitting on the couch eating nachos. Well the other day we left the couch. We went to see this house that Chris saw posted on Craig's list, it was not much to look at onscreen, but there were a few intriguing little details on the advertisment that made us curious, (not to mention that it was considerably more in our price range than most houses we see in that area) so we went to have a look. Of course we both really loved the house, and the owner and his two dogs and pretty much everything about the place. I had two gripes, 1. the back yard was small, too smal for a swing, or a sandbox, or even a backyard barbeque; and 2. there was only one full bathroom. But even my gripes had solutions. There is a giant park a block away with ample swings, sandboxes, and picnic tables, and the owners had extended the pipes from the first bathroom upstairs so all that is needed is to construct a second bathroom.
This place is most definitely NOT my dream house (historic chicago red brick octagan bungalow w/ 4 br, 2 full bath, giant kitchen, 1st floor laundry room, wood fireplace, 1.5 car garage and nice big oversized yard- do you know of anyone selling one of those for, say $50 US? tell them we're buying!) BUT it was a really lovely, light filled, and interesting space with lots of potential to make it our home.
Did you see that? OUR home. Every place I've ever lived has been someone else's place. Even now I still say going home is going to my parents' house. Everywhere else is just so transient feeling. Chris and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary this summer, and our china is still neatly packed away in the original boxes, safely tucked away in my sister's ever-flooding basement. (Home ownership strikes again!)
Not that I don't completely appreciate and feel a never ending amount of gratitude for having the place where we currently live. It has enabled us to do things we would never have been able to do if we were paying rent or had a mortgage. Things like have a nanny, go on vacation, and even more fundamentally, take "lifestyle" jobs rather than soul-draining law firm jobs, just to manage our astronomical student debt. I will never be able to repay our families' generosity, so this is in no way looking a fabulous gift horse in the mouth, keep those gift horses coming!
That said, maybe it's the delayed nesting instinct in me, but I really long for a place that is all mine, (Minus the annoying things that come with home ownership, like a mortgage and fixing your own clogged drains, flooded basements, but even still...) where we enjoy staying, and can finally stop behaving like nomads, packing up every weekend and taking laundry with us to every relatives house we crash.
So that's the story. Well, not the entire story, we took a look at our expenses, crunched some numbers, and without making some very fundamental lifestyle changes (i.e. the nanny), this particular house is not quite within our reach. But the bright side is that we are now even closer to being ready to start looking at houses (that's a bright side?), and are taking steps towards being really ready to say "we'll take it!" when we finally find our house.