For bonnets and chairs

I knit this cute little bonnet up in just a few hours last week. It's a little small for Annabelle, but since it's intended to be a birthday present for a one year old, the size will probably work perfectly. The lilac is a super soft kid mohair/wool blend and the I-cord detail is made from a 100% angora remnant someone gave me a few years ago that I hung on to for just the perfect project. I got this pattern out of my Last Minute Knitted Gifts book that I picked up last month. I am really loving this book right now... and am already working on my second bonnet. After it's complete I think I'll make one up in Annabelle's size.



Dave bought me this ladderback chair in Eureka just a month or so after we'd moved up to Humboldt. I have always loved it, but never liked the color of the stain very much.

Finally, more than three years later I got around to painting it. Green... my favorite color. Now I'm keeping my eye out for the perfect fabric to recover the cushion. (It only just now occurred to me that I should have waited to find the fabric before painting the chair, but I guess it's too late for that.)

Happy Harvest Time!!!

There is something that I always want Halloween to be about and every year that I try to participate in the holiday I'm a little disappointed. Last year I ignored it altogether. But this year I wanted to mark the season with a celebration. I just didn't want the celebration to be about scary costumes (or even worse: Disney costumes) and candy. I wanted it to be about the harvest, about bright autumn colors, the first rain of the season, animals and hay rides. Roasted chicken with root vegetables and apple crisp warm from the oven. Warm sweaters and wearing hats. Cuddling under the covers in the morning before slipping into the chill morning air.

This year I really tried. We took Annabelle to two pumpkin patches. I started the tradition of giving her a handknit gnome doll (two, actually, to make up for last year!) We had a small dinner with grama and grampa. We marked the occasion. I took pictures. And I made a video montage because, well, it was just so much fun.

Harvest Festival 2006

For the love of handknits

The warshrag.

So, I know you know I've been knitting lately but I want to talk about it a little more.

I first learned to knit in the fourth or fifth grade. My mom and I made slippers. After that project I didn't pick up needles again until I was in my late twenties and completing my foundation year at Rudolph Steiner College in hopes of becoming a Waldorf Teacher. Now, after nearly three years, I am at it again. And it's wonderful!!

The best part about knitting again is that it is a sign that I am starting to feel back inside myself. I am getting a tad more sleep, enjoying my long days with Annabelle, really getting into living in this new apartment with my family, and able to focus just a little bit of energy on myself.

My first project was a scarf. It was safe and simple. My next was a dishcloth. Or, if you are like me and have paternal roots in Missouri, you know it's called a warshrag. The pattern forced me out of my little garter stitch shell... and opened up a world of knitting ambitions.

Wait till you see what I've done over the last six weeks! I've been having the best time, knitting at playgrounds while sitting on a blanket in the shade watching Annabelle play, stuffing a ball of yarn in my pocket and knitting while following Annabelle around on walks, keeping a little project in my bag and knitting whenever I'm waiting on anything at all. Hats, dolls, sweater, purse, scarves... I have a lot to share.

Stay tuned.

Connecting GERD reflux and pesticides: a probability?

Annabelle has gone exactly two weeks without her reflux medication. Two weeks. Two weeks!!

My little girl is going to be okay!

It has been a long and difficult road helping Annabelle and the whole family through life with Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease, GERD. Many people don't know what reflux is all about, or about the impact it can have on your day to day lives (sometimes hour to hour!), or the many things a parent will do to help their little one. Talking about it with these people was sometimes a relief, a chance to tell my story. Other times, I felt defensive around them, as if I had to prove that I was a good parent and didn't mistakenly DO SOMETHING to cause my daughter's reflux. Once I had an older woman tell me that she only realized through my sharing that her daughter had had the same problem but the doctors never figured it out. (This happens all too often!) And I was able to offer some moral support and practical advice to one parent whose doctor was trying to convince her to start medication to help with her daughter's GERD.

And, sadly, there were so many people who offered canned advice who knew nothing about the issue. Or felt that their singular experience with the disease made them an expert on the subject. GERD has tested me in many ways: I have come to realize the actual benefit of some alternative medicinal practices that I would have previously discounted as weird or "all in their mind", I have grown to be more tolerant of the ignorant ways people offer what they think is help, I have come to trust myself as a mother and am more willing to trust that other mothers are truly doing what they believe to be best for their child.

I only realized this past week that I hadn't believed Annabelle would be able to get off the medication this soon. I had fully surrendered to the idea that we would be going through our hated nightly ritual of medicine giving for at least the next two years. And I had expected some major ramifications during the last two weeks as her body adjusted to not having the medication, but there really haven't been any.

What a relief.

Reflux is a crazy thing for a parent to watch. It manifests itself differently in different people. It can cause permanent damage and lifelong stomach issues if not addressed properly.

Annabelle had terrible colic from week 2 to week 11. She had always been a big spit-up baby. But the spit up seemed to me like a lot. I called people. I asked the nurses. All I heard was, "Oh, yes, all babies spit up. It's normal. Don't worry. Totally normal." Finally, at four months I got out the measuring cup and started measuring the amount of "spit up" Annabelle had at certain times of day. I wanted to know for sure: What exactly was normal? Why were my alarms going off? Why did Annabelle cry after each spit up?

I was able to determine, with the help of my measuring cup and a few calculations with the nurse on the phone that Annabelle was actually vomiting several times a day. And her colicky crying at bed time was because GERD hurts like hell. Even at six months, after trying three different medications to see what worked the best, after trying to get her to sleep more than two hours in a row (didn't happen until a year, no kidding), after buying her a new bed that inclined, and putting even the changing table at an incline, after always making sure her head was above her stomach, and after going on a severe elimination diet and working to figure out Annabelle's food allergies/sensitivities, we still didn't have it figured out.

I know all those things helped a little bit. But I also know that Annabelle needed a lot of help. And I now understand what it means to be a mother who refuses to stop seeking help if her daughter is hurting, even if the medicine masks the problem. Sometimes doctors got frustrated with me. More frequently, I was the one getting frustrated with the doctors.

I know that, for Annabelle, chiropractic treatment was critical in her recovery. So was eliminating allergens from our diet. (Some people still believe that breastfeeding moms can eat whatever they wish because it really has no effect. I heard advice from so many of these moms and I never knew how to respond. I mean, really, they go ahead and eat at McDonalds and then watch their baby cry for the next day and a half and are STILL selfish enough to insist that they had nothing to do with it. Give me a break!)

But the last major breakthrough in Annabelle's recovery was so simple: we started eating organic. One doctor mentioned that there is the smallest amount of evidence that shows a relationship between reflux and pesticides. And so I did a little research and learned that pesticides are oil based. This means that they don't come off when you rinse them with water. You have to use a fruit/vegetable wash of some kind to wash it off. (They sell them in health food type stores. And when I wash our produce I can actually feel the residue coming off all slimy.) Also, pesticides are stored in fat cells. So the more animal fats you eat, the more likely you are to be exposing yourself to pesticides. We started buying organic produce and I gave up red meat completely. And Annabelle has started sleeping four hour stretches. She's even gone seven or eight hours two or three times!

And here we are now, looking back at 13 months of medication, knowing that it's finally behind us. For real.

I have wondered how many mothers out there know the anguish that I have felt, continuously, for my daughter's situation. And how many of them know the utter relief and joy and tears I have now.

Monday afternoon bragbook: Annabelle's new hat

I knit this hat for Annabelle over the weekend. I searched online for the perfect pattern and couldn't find anything I really liked so I made one up. It turned out differently than I expected, but I guess I shouldn't be too surprised... It's not like I've ever made up a pattern before. Fortunately there's a little growing room in it. Better than doing all that work and having it turn out too small.

A visit to the pumpkin farm

Tanaka Farms is purportedly the only place in Orange County where you can pick your pumpkin right off the vine.

I got caught up in the allure of doing this before I fully realized what it entailed. Mature pumpkins have little thorns. The ground is very muddy. The pumpkins are caked with both wet and dry mud. You have to saw the squash off the vine and then load it into a wheelbarrow and cart it to your car. The pumpkins aren't set up in a nice row, organized by size.

Basically, the pumpkin buyer is saving the farmer from having to pay laborers to do this work. And since I've never actually purchased a pumpkin from a patch of any sort before, I was really glad they had a section set up with clean, nicely shaped, priced pumpkins in a tent off in the corner. Complete with petting zoo. (Actually the petting zoo was a cage filled with about fifty goats and one pig.)

But the primary reason for our visit was to take advantage of the beautiful colors and get some great pictures. We have to have proof that we did something to celebrate these little holidays with Annabelle, right?

Low cholesterol: I bet a million bucks you didn't know it could be a problem.

Months ago Dave and I applied for life insurance. Part of the application process required that we give a blood sample. After about a month, we received our lab results -courtesy of the insurance company. I glanced over my results and everything seemed great. I knew I was healthy, only now I had confirmation.

Then, a couple weeks later my insurance agent called to say that they were raising my premium 20% because I had low cholesterol.

What? Low cholesterol is good. The lower, the better, isn't it?

So I went online to do a little research and found very little information about low cholesterol as a health problem. But there was this one site, created by a woman who had the problem, that listed a couple very interesting points:

1. Nobody will believe you have a real problem. And there is very little information or research out there to help you figure out the risks or solutions.

2. There are several side affects, mainly depression and/or anxiety.

3. Low cholesterol may indicate hyperthyroidism, liver disease, or malabsorption.

Anxiety. You mean, the primary problem I've had since Annabelle was born? Since I'd moved to Orange County? The same problem I've been dealing with since I started the elimination diet and stopped eating any dairy and most red meat (among other foods) to reduce the allergens in my breast milk?

Apparently cholesterol levels below 160 have been linked with anxiety disorders. And those under 180 are at greater risk for hemorrhagic stroke. Anything around 180-200 is optimal.

My number? 120.

And, actually, my blood was drawn before I gave up red meat. (Eliminating red meat from my diet has shown to have a dramatic improvement in Annabelle's ability to sleep more.) I can only imagine that over the last couple of months it's dropped a little bit more since I've gone from eating beef three to four times a week to zero.

When I looked up hypocholesterolmia in Wikipedia I learned that there are some people out there who test below 50. Strangely, it make me feel a little relieved. But I know I've got to get this solved before problems arise.

I've already informed Dave that as soon as I wean Annabelle I'll be putting myself on an ice cream diet. Oh, and lots and lots of butter on everything. Gosh, doesn't that sound delicious? Maybe I'll just bake a ton of shortbread and eat that all day. Yum!! And while I'm here talking about food that I haven't been able to eat for the last seventeen months, I'll list the first things I'm going to shove in my mouth the second I nurse Annabelle for the last time: brownies, brie cheese on water crackers, squaw bread, bagels with cream cheese and lox, a peanut butter and banana sandwich on whole wheat bread with a tall glass of milk, a white russian, some baileys on the rocks, whipped cream and berries, poached eggs with toast, and chocolate cake. All that would probably solve the low cholesterol issue, don't you think?

It seems weaning Annabelle is coming up here pretty soon. Actually, she's slowly self weaning. Twice this past week she only woke up once to nurse. A miracle!! And so, I've had two 24-hour periods when I only nursed her three times. I can also tell my milk is not as present as it once was... we're definitely closing in on the end of that section of Annabelle's babyhood. Sigh. I look forward to it sometimes, but mostly I try not to think about it too much.

Visiting a park in the SF Bay Area

Recently Dave and I attended his sister's wedding. It was the most beautiful and perfect wedding I had ever been to... no kidding. There wasn't a single detail missed, from the perfect Heirloom Tomato salad, to the gardenias floating in the fountains, and from the little gift bags left in each hotel room greeting out-of-towners with wine, maps, sweets, and coupons to having a highchair for Annabelle at our table. I have never been to a wedding like it!

You might expect that I would have pictures of the event to share here, but I don't. Sorry. (Unless you want to see pictures of me getting ready in the hotel room... boring.)

All I have are some shots of Dave and Annabelle playing at a park near the hotel the day before. But, gosh, isn't she cute? She was so freeking crabby and tired and whiny I was going out of my mind. But the pictures turned out okay.

She sees me from a distance and breaks out in a run, giggling... it's enough to melt my heart.


Approaching me offensively, very determined to wrest the camera from my hands.

Pissed at me for not letting her play with the camera. I figure that's the last time I see her happily run towards me in glee across a swath of green grass.

I loved how she squatted in the lone patch of sunlight, lighting up her pigtails.

An afternoon at the Irvine Spectrum

I've joined a couple mom's groups in the area, hoping to make some friends and find some little ones for Annabelle to socialize with... We recently went on an excursion to the Irvine Spectrum, an outdoor mall that typifies the OC consumerism habit during the day and doubles up as a singles scene during the night. They do, however, have several fountains that Annabelle enjoys, including one at ground level that is safe for her to play in. Here are a few photos from our visit there. We had the best time!!

These little fountains would shoot up high really fast, then disappear entirely before coming back to their original short height. Perfect for enticing a toddler.

Annabelle would shriek with delight when they blasted up a few feet out of the ground.

There were two of these turtles and I thought they were so beautiful. Annabelle enjoyed several minutes of standing directly in front of them so that the water would hit her belly, drenching her entirely.

Summer End

Some of you might not be aware of the fact that Dave got laid off from his job in the middle of July. After allowing one day to freak out about money we both decided to really appreciate the time together, whether it turned out to be two weeks of unemployment or more...

Well, Dave starts his new job this Monday. We had nearly the entire summer together, just the three of us, and it was a dream. Dave really got to know Annabelle in a different way, learning the rhythms of her day and getting in some serious daddy-daughter time. The three of us got to visit new playgrounds every week, explore some of the far reaching corners of Orange County, check out the aquarium in Long Beach, sneak into the playground at the Disneyland Hotel, try out new restaurants, fly up to San Francisco for a couple of weddings, and take a road trip up the central coast.

We fixed a few things too: Dave and I both did some pretty intensive therapy on our necks, we took Annabelle to a chiropractor, we started eating organic produce, we covered some major ground in the getting "us" back on track post-baby, and we came to terms with what it means to be hippies living behind the orange curtain in Southern California.

And while we are both excited to have the financial help it offers, it's going to be hard to let go, I think. Big changes are ahead for everyone. Dave is going to start working ten hour days. Sigh. Annabelle will miss him. So will I.

But I think we will remember this summer for the rest of our lives.

Putting on the pounds...

Annabelle has finally started to gain weight! After a dramatic slow down of weight gain (falling from the 90th percentile to the 50th with a gain of only 3 ounces in six months) Annabelle has started to eat. She has eaten well every day for about ten days.

It's such a relief!

I can't tell you how much it bothered me to suffer through an entire day or two of her refusal of food. On those days I would work SO hard just to get her to eat maybe a single rice cake, a bite of cucumber and half a banana... and that's all she would eat besides nursing a few times.

And, true to form, all it took was Annabelle finally making up her mind that she wanted to do it. Until I met Annabelle I never really knew how willful a one year old could be.

We owe a large part of our success to Addie, Annabelle's new little dolly. Last Saturday we had a garage sale and my mom pulled open a bag full of stuff I had decided to sell a long time ago. Annabelle reached into the bag and yanked out this terribly ugly homemade doll made with plastic parts and bright purple acrylic fiber. It even had purple hair. I couldn't stand it. Annabelle didn't put it down for two hours.

Since my daughter had never played with the same toy for more than ten straight minutes in her entire life, I immediately recognized that she was ready to attach herself to a transitional object. I started to panic, not really feeling ready for the moment. I didn't have anything at hand that I could use to encourage her attachment. I instantly remembered this doll I had seen at Target.

So I picked up Annabelle and we dashed off to get her her very own Addie. And wouldn't you know, Annabelle hardly lets go of her. She nurses with Annabelle. She dances too. Annabelle even hugs her tight in her sleep.

But best of all, they eat together. And when Annabelle feeds Addie she places the food to her doll's lips and then quickly shoves it in her own mouth, chews, and swallows. Some nights when Annabelle is done eating dinner after only about five minutes, "Addie" will continue to eat for twenty minutes or more! It's wonderful!

There are, of course, some side affects- both good and bad: Dave and I can finally enjoy some extended conversation during dinner because Annabelle is engrossed in the activity of feeding Addie. This is really nice for us. Annabelle has visibly gained weight. This is a relief and also a mixed blessing... I sit here with sore shoulders and a really sore back! I've been schlepping the same 24 pounds around for the last four months, and I actually noticed the jump in weight this past week. My baby-weight routine just kicked itself up a notch, I guess, and I wasn't prepared for the harder work.

Annabelle signing to Addie about eating.

An open letter to my daughter

Waving at the ducks today in the park near Independence Hall at Knott's Berry Farm.

Dear Annabelle,

I cannot believe how entirely entertaining and fun you are these days. You are growing way too fast, but it is the speed with which you are learning that makes you so enjoyable!

There are moments that I live for: the way you pat me on the back when giving me a hug, when you leave to go for a walk with your dad and then run back into the house smacking your lips asking for a kiss goodbye, when you are crabby and cranky and whiney until I pick you up and you lay your head on my shoulder as if that's all you ever wanted anyway, the way you point with your finger at my eyeball after I say, "I love you" as if to identify the "I" as "eye" and you are trying to sign "I love you" back to me... and especially the way you crawl into bed with me in the morning to wake me up, remove the t-shirt I've thrown over my head while laughing as if it's one eternal peek-a-boo game, then crawl down and point at my water, knowing that I'll sit up and take a sip, then run to the bathroom, knowing that I'll go there next, and then run into your room and point at the chair while holding up your nursing pillow. You've got our morning routine down to tee.

And you have surprised me so much over the past month! Like the time you brought a bottle of nail polish to me and handed it to me and then pointed at it and then pointed at your toes. You have never seen me paint my toes, yet you seemed to have matched that exact bottle of polish to the color I was wearing on my toes. Or this morning when I was having an allergy attack and you brought me a box of kleenex from the bedroom.

Lately you have been fascinated by the smallest things, like ants or flies. Or only what seems small- this week you noticed airplanes and helicopters in the sky, signing "where?" as soon as they fly out of sight.

And last Saturday you finally started to talk! I know that about six months ago you said "mama" over and over. But then you stopped. We haven't heard much other than grunts and babbling for months. Dave assured me that you would talk when you decided to and he was right: you ran into the bedroom with a book opened to a certain page, plopped it down at my feet, pointed at a picture and said, "bay-bee!" very distinctly with a big smile. And then you ran for the bathroom shouting, "Mama! Mama!" Later that day you said, "Up!" when trying to climb up on the couch, and "Dad!" when walking down the hall. Then you pointed at the door and said, "Buh-by"... I think you must have been secretly practicing in private and wanted to just shock me by unleashing all your words in a single day. Now when you wake up in the morning you cry out, "Dad!" knowing he's the one to get up with you when you wake up every day.

But the most impressive thing about you is how happy you are. You smile and laugh your screaming cackling laugh at everything, especially new things. Everything I show you brings a smile. Every new noise, new sight, new toy, new place, new event, new habit makes you happy. I love it. I love it so much!

You are pure joy. Thank you for choosing me to be your mom. My love for you is boundless.

The stare.

Annabelle is mastering a new look. It is one of extreme concentration and judgment. You would think she had started to read the old testament or something by the way she can stare down the most innocent looking person.

Two days ago I took Annabelle to the mall so that I could get out of the heat and simultaneously let her run around in a protected environment. (As guilty as I feel about it, I have to admit that I have found shopping malls to be the best substitutions for playgrounds whenever I need an "easy" day.)

So, on Tuesday I had started to wrap up our playdate with mall folk and began the familiar chanting of "This way, Annabelle!" and "C'mon! Where's the car?!" to try and get her to hurry. Or at least walk in the right direction. I turned around to see her standing about ten feet in front of two teenagers seating on a bench. These kids were dressed entirely in black, wearing some studded belt jewelry around their arms, pierced all over their faces, and had hair arranged in a complex design of spikes. They were doing a decent job at being goth.

And they were squirming under the stare of my 16 month daughter. She was giving them her best-ever stare. I enjoyed it for about thirty seconds. And then I started to call to her, but she was completely entranced with them. So, being sick and tired, I sat down on a bench and watched her watching them while I blew my nose.

She watched them for TEN MINUTES. She stood there, silent and utterly still. With the stare. It was a very long time. The goth kids laughed, acted embarrassed, motioned to her, looked around for her mom (I waved), and basically freaked out. It was very entertaining.

Eventually she looked around for me and toddled over. In a weird way, I was very proud of her.

Travel Log: Our trip to the Bay Area

Screw the fork!

We stayed with Dave's parents. Fortunately for Annabelle they had just purchased a new refrigerator and saved the box. It was a favorite of the trip.

The best thing about visiting the San Francisco Bay Area is getting to see old friends. My best friend Kristy came over for an afternoon and we hung out in the backyard with Annabelle.

Grampa Frank and Grama Shirley gave Annabelle this monster truck- she loved it. When I dressed her in this little outfit I was reminded of my favorite blogging baby, Juniper.

My dear friend Gina came to visit one evening. We had a blast. I don't know how to explain it, but this picture is just so her. (I straightened my hair for a wedding earlier that day and couldn't believe how long it was.)

A great picture of my mother-in-law, Grama Shirley, at the wedding.

A small plastic bowl of water, two unripe cherry tomatoes picked from the backyard garden, and one paint brush went a LOOOONG way in terms of toddler entertainment.

She's a screamer!

Doing her thing at a wedding last Saturday.

Today I met an old friend at the mall. This mall happened to be rather new, with an enclosed playground for young children. We took our kids there to munch on our salads and chat. In between conversations I was pondering the joy of the carpeted playground (thankful that I didn't have to contend with loads of sand in Annabelle's shoes) and noticed how quiet the 20+ children playing around me happened to be. The kids and moms were talking, but there wasn't any yelling/shouting/scolding. Well, except for one unruly child off in the corner who kept screaming.

Yes, that would be my child.

Everyone's playground experience was being punctuated by shrill screams every minute or so. And sometimes more frequently.

And unless you actually saw her screaming, you would never imagine that it was my girl. She was the one toddling around in the cute brown dress with a smile plastered on her face. The screams were those of pure joy. I'm guessing she just was so excited that the happiness was overwhelming her little soul and she just had to let it out in repetitive bursts.

At one point I looked to my friend and said, "You hear that one little child who keeps screaming over and over?"

She said, "Yes!", smiling in wonderment.

"That's Annabelle." I replied.

"REALLY??" she answered in (more) wonderment.

It really was pretty impressive, all that screaming. It was quite loud. I think I was the only one laughing about it. Maybe I'm finally used to how loud she is... and that's definitely taken me some time to get used to. But I have just started noticing how other people jump to attention at her screams and screaming-type laughter and realized that used to be me who would startle and get whatever she was asking for. Finally, finally, my nerves have relaxed and I can enjoy her screams as much as she does.

We're home. We're exhausted.

Annabelle has begun to mimic facial expressions. Her favorites are the most serious, most scowl-like, most un-approving-looking expressions she can muster. But each is always followed by a sweet smile, letting us know that she is either joking or proud of herself or both.

We had the best time visiting Dave's parents. A little shopping, getting my hair done at a salon, a wedding, a wedding shower, several visits with friends, a couple plane rides, Annabelle's joke making and loud laughing, and beautiful weather made for a perfect five days in the Bay Area.

Coming home was okay. It really has been so nice to be somewhere where I didn't have to worry about vacuuming or cleaning the windows. Our place is really becoming a wreck these days.

And in our absence some ants moved in. Not good. Not good. I have the creepy crawlies.

More pictures to come. But for now, sleep.

Travel Journal

We have all returned from a fabulous trip up the Central Coast of California. It was awesome. It was beautiful. It was the perfect break. It was too short!

Annabelle was a super trooper. Dave and I could hardly believe how well she did for the entire duration of the holiday. She slept the same, ate the same, enjoyed the car rides, enjoyed her new toys, had fun wandering around new places... it was a relief and we all returned home feeling happy and rested.

And now we are leaving again- this time to San Francisco for a visit with family, a friend's wedding, and Dave's sister's wedding shower. I'll be gone until next Tuesday. But before I go, here are some pictures of our adventure along the coast.

We stopped for a short rest on our second day. Dave napped under a tree while I did a photo shoot with Annabelle up against the corrugated metal wall of an antique shop adjacent to the park. This is a picture of the exact moment that Annabelle noticed the shutter snapping inside the lens of my camera.

And here she begins to find the shutter amusing...

Nursing on the road!

Annabelle now knows about twenty baby signs. It is truly an amazing thing to watch her grasp the concept of a new sign and begin to use it! Here she demonstrates "Hat" while hanging out in the little town of Cambria.

Saying "Frog" is her all time favorite sign, hands down.

"Apple" has been really helpful.

Her learning "Pig" was a surprise to me. I had been trying to teach it to her the longest time- over a month. (She has learned some signs in less than a minute.) And then, after playing with a piggy bank at grama's house she came home signing "Pig" over and over...

Passing through Santa Maria we were starving and desperate for a place to eat. We ended up at this dive burger joint named Jim's. It was the best burger I've had in a LONG time...

Annabelle is just barely starting to use the crayons for coloring more than eating them... Dave and I have always loved searching out the crappiest looking diners for breakfast. We swear they have the best food and the best people. This one in San Luis Obispo wasn't as run down as it had seemed from the outside, though still delicious and fun.

Our visit to Morro Bay was a little bit colder than I had planned so I ended up buying a new hat and denim jacket. Here in SLO I'm happily modeling both for the camera. As it turned out I had braided my pigtails the day we were to arrive in Solvang. I had no idea that the whole town of Solvang had this Danish theme going on... it was like walking into another country. Several of the store clerks and waitresses were dressed in costumes to look like they were from Denmark. So when I was wandering around in my skirt and pigtails several people asked me where I worked and if I had just moved to town. (Because obviously no tourist would ever dream of dressing up the way they were forced to daily!)

Annabelle has healthy love for slides. She needs help getting going and help landing at the end, but loves them all the same.

BTW - Spellcheck isn't working on blogger, sorry if you caught any typos!

Gone till next Tuesday...

Tomorrow the whole family is leaving town for a drive along the coast. I could get caught up in wondering how Annabelle is going to handle it, but I'm not letting myself think too much about it. Dave and I are desperate for a change of scenery so we're just going. See you later!

Pool time with daddy!

Kick! Kick! Kick!

I'm not a lady!

My previous posts about being angry were, apparently, upsetting to some. (I received negative feedback from about four different people.) I have really thought about my outbursts and talked through the experience with a couple of my closest friends and have a lot of feelings in response to those who were made uncomfortable by my feelings.

Getting crazy angry is a sign of the need to change. And when you feel stuck in your life and unable to conjure the energy/motivation to create that change, anger gets you unstuck and moving on it. Anger is an authentic feeling. This feeling has been pushed down, pushed around, hidden, masked, betrayed, ignored, and denied. Women are especially adept at keeping displays of anger buried. This, I believe, is a fault. A fault that I have!!

It is possible to really appreciate one's own anger. I wouldn't have believed this before last night, before my dearest friend Kristy simply explained my angry emotional outburst as a turning point. She said that in a month or two I will be able to look back and pinpoint that day as the day change started happening. It was, from her point of view, the moment I realized that *I* need to be a priority too. From my perspective I can definitely say that it was the point at which I could admit my need for help and also absorb the idea of putting Annabelle in some sort of daycare without feeling crushing guilt. For that I am grateful and could have probably stood to punch the microwave a couple more times.

Honestly, I don't know why anger is supposed to be so embarrassing. Are people so repressed that they can't admit when something pisses them off? Do people endure their whole lives without ever feeling uncontrollable anger? Are those people in denial or leading very shallow lives? Feel free to enlighten me.

Dave and I have a little inside joke between us. It's a joke that's not a joke. When we had just barely started dating he called me a lady. I was quick to correct him: No! I am NOT a lady. We laughed, because the implication of what it means to be unlady like is actually pretty funny and wide-ranging. (The term "un-ladylike behavior" could be used to describe an adolescent girl wearing pants and a boy's shirt as equally as it could be used to describe a bawdy sort of call girl.) To me, a lady is a woman who is demure, who follows the rules (and The Rules!), who doesn't speak her mind, who never expresses anger, and who worries more about social decorum than self-actualization and authenticity. I, most certainly, am not a lady. And when we are out in the world people inevitably refer to me as a lady. When that person get out of ear shot Dave happily proclaims, "Oh! You're no lady!" We laugh. He gets me. He likes the joke. And it's a compliment.

Certainly every generation before mine believes, more or less, that being a lady is good. I can't fault them. Ladies serve a purpose out in society. Ladies make for some very excellent reading material. And I don't think I'm in great company with my thoughts on the anger subject or the lady subject, but I don't care. You may be reading thinking that you've always identified as a lady. Great. You might also be taking offense to my opinion. Not great. I don't mean to upset anyone, this is simply my opinion. If you agree or disagree leave a comment.

I'm not writing this post to make people happy, just to offer a little more perspective to the criticism I received. It's just my blog. A space to purge thoughts. A MUCH NEEDED outlet. A lot of my readers and my favorite bloggers are becoming my friends and have offered perspectives that have changed me as a person. Here in Orange County I feel lonely. Here in the blogsphere I have a community of parents that buoys me up when I'm drowning.

What is happening to me?

Yesterday morning I freaked out. I was very hungry. I was angry at someone who was TWO hours late arriving at our apartment. (They never called and we were waiting to have breakfast until after their arrival.) I was frustrated that my day was already planned with chores and seemingly little fun time with my family.

I cracked. I became someone I've never seen before... a sobbing, screaming, angry woman. A woman who felt so entirely pent up with no outlet for her frustrations that she was clenching her hands and body. A woman who, in trying to explain herself to her confused (and probably scared) husband using lots of swear words and exclamations proceeded to punch the microwave with her right fist. Hard. Hard enough to bruise her hand and make a couple knuckles sore. Hard enough to make her husband restrain her, wondering if we were going to have to replace the microwave.

I really have no idea where all this anger is coming from. I am not an angry person! Happy!!! I am a happy person who uses too many exclamation marks in emails!! I am a woman who gets compliments from people saying, "Gosh! You are always smiling!" People have described me as having a "sunny personality" and wish they could match my optimism. Diplomacy and positivity are some of my key elements as a person.

WHAT IS MY DEAL??

One of my loyal readers suggested in an email that I might be depressed. Perhaps. But doesn't that come with hopelessness? Lack of motivation? I don't feel those things. I am familiar with depression and have never seen it manifest this way in me. (I'm not ruling it out, just talking out loud.)

Dave decided that we are going to take a road trip and get out of town for a few days. We're going up the coast. Only fun days allowed. Fun day followed by fun day times five. No chores. Lots of stops to explore. He bought me a book by the Lonely Planet, "Coastal California" to help me get started on getting together our itinerary. In the section about our state's culture and lifestyle there was this exert:

People are pleasant- sometimes to a fault. In fact, in polite society everyone is so determined to get along that it can be hard to find out what somebody really thinks. This increases the further south you go. Political correctness thrives along the coast. Sometimes it's annoying. If you stick around one of the larger metropolitan areas for a while, you'll inevitably exchange telephone numbers with a person who expresses interest in seeing you again. In most parts of the world that means, "call me". Not in California. It's just a nicety. Often the other person never calls, and if you make an attempt you may never hear back.

This all flies out the window on an extended middle finger on the state's always busy freeways. Road rage has become a serious problem... ...Expect to encounter self righteous, irrational, angry people who won't hesitate to cut you off, then flip you off.

After reading that I realized I had made so many mistakes: expecting return phone calls from the 12-15 women that have given me their phone number over the course of the last year, thinking that people only flip you off when you've done something wrong, believing that a smile is a smile. Essentially, people are SO much more shallow that I had initially thought.

I have never been very good at two things: Not taking things personally, and letting things slide off my back. If I could manage to learn how to do either (or both) my time in Orange County would greatly improve. Obviously.

When I read the passage to Dave he observed that both he and I have become MUCH more aggressive drivers than we ever had been previously. We have also developed more self-righteousness than either of us feels comfortable with. We each have an edge to our personalities that wasn't there two years ago. Sigh. What happened to our low-key, laid back hippy selves? We learned so much about how we wanted to live our lives during our two years in Arcata. It didn't seem possible that all of that could be undone in such a short time. We knew in advance that we would have to shelter each other here, that we would be without the huge community we enjoyed in Humboldt County, that we would have to fend off the contagiousness of consumerism. We weren't quite expecting the onslaught of loneliness or the need to compromise just to survive.

Today we went to Seal Beach to walk around. It is probably one of the most liberal parts of Orange County. It was fun. There was definitely a different feeling there that I haven't felt throughout the county. It was a tad bit more relaxed. Some people drove cars that were more than five years old. We saw a couple bare chested men with beards grown out grey past their shoulders. It was such a nice day. A much needed nice day. We plan to go back...

Goat's Milk as an alternative to Cow's Milk

Experimenting with the timer...

Today Annabelle hardly ate a thing. Barely nursed. Refused even her favorite snacks. Is she teething? I have no idea. Is she getting skinny? Certainly. Do we need to get her to eat more? Absolutely. I have attempted to give her a little goat's cheese, hoping to slip right by that dairy allergy and see if goat/sheep's milk will do her better. True to form, she spit it out. She pretty much spits everything out that's not some kind of rice product or made up entirely of avocados or cucumbers.

You might be a little familiar with the trials we have gone through with Annabelle and what it has taken to figure out her allergies and avoid her consumption of these allergenic foods. (A brief reminder of what she is allergic to: wheat, dairy, oat, soy, oranges, papaya, nuts) And because I'm breastfeeding and hope to eliminate her exposure to these allergens, I have had to eliminate these foods from my diet as well.

So you might be wondering why I chose Goat's Cheese to try out first. Well, simply because I'm craving cheese like you wouldn't believe. So I ran a little pretest and ate some goat cheese. It went okay. So I ate some more! And THAT went okay!! MORE!!! OKAY!!! YEEESSS!!!!! Thus, it's now Annabelle's turn to try it.

Next I'd like to try out goat's milk. They sell it here fresh right next to the cow's milk in the refrigerator. Does anyone know about contraindications regarding feeding goat's milk to a 15 month old?? There doesn't seem to be much online. Our pediatrician recommended it, but I just want a little confirmation before forging ahead. If it works out for us, then it might be just the ticket I need to begin to gently wean her down to just a couple feedings a day. THAT would be heaven. (Until Annabelle can have dairy I have to breastfeed her to make sure she's getting the iron and calcium she requires for healthy growth.)

Also, to update you about her constipation problems: I think we solved her constipation issues through the magic of chiropractic care. I mentioned Annabelle's problem to her chiro and he said, "Oh! Let's just adjust her here and see what happens." She pooped a giant diaper before we even left the office. And for the rest of the day it just kept coming. Ever since that day she's been a pretty regular girl. Magic, I tell you.