This Little Piggy Went to Louisiana

Matt took Temple to Louisiana for our nephew's wedding.  I was sad not to go.  I just got this new job 4 weeks ago, and, after getting the unusual weeknight schedule I asked for, I didn't feel right asking for days off, especially so soon and during Octoberfest (mouths of gift horses, you know).  I was going to fly down for the weekend, but then a co-worker needed coverage because he is getting married.  So, I stayed, they went.  I was sad to miss the trip and the wedding, but it seemed like the right thing to do. 

It is weird being home alone.  I'm up at 11:45pm, watching TV, and I just ate my dinner.  I put T's toys up in the loft, because we are having an open house on Sunday.  I hope to get up around 8 each day, do an errand, enjoy being able to do an errand easily, go to the gym, etc.  The mornings are going to be the strangest, I think.  I'll eat sitting down, probably.  That'll be a nice change.  I feel guilty for having looked forward to this alone time, especially because Matt and Temple were delayed on the runway for over an hour, and without milk.  But, I'm the introvert, and I hope this little sabbatical will refresh me, and cause me to appreciate my family more.  Not that I don't miss them.  How could you not cry when you leave that little piggy?  

The Return of Liquids

It's been so long since last I blogged.  There is too much to tell about everything T has been up to since July, so here's what happened before 11am today:

Temple and I went to the playground mall, as we are wont to do on Friday mornings.  We used to have a moms' coffee group that got together, but since all the babies started walking, the band seems to have broken up.  I'm so grateful to that group, though.  They helped me get out of the house in the early months. Anypoo, earlier this morning, I was changing Temple.  She was bare-assed on the table, squirming away, talking trash, and the new box of diapers was just out of reach, and unopened.  As much as I like to see T walking around with no pants on, I wanted to get her panted so we could hit the road, because I was jonesing for my daily 20 ounce McCafe, to which I am addicted.  Seriously, I get nauseous if I don't have one before 10:30am.  It's just like Trainspotting.  I kept my left hand on Temple's squirrel belly, and blindly rooted for a diaper on the shelf of the changing table, and I came up with a swimming diaper.  I figured the differences between the swimmy and a regular one was the swimmy went on like regular panties, was a little more expensive, and had fish on it.  If anything, I thought, it would be more leak proof, since it, allegedly, kept the business in the pants in the pool.  Airtight, I thought.  While I briefly thought I should save the expensive diaper for real swimming, I am extremely lazy, and decided to go the easy route.  

Back to the playground.  We were there for a few minutes, and Temple had gone up the stairs and down the slide about 29 times, and she was headed for the submarine.  She was struggling to get through the port-hole, and I went to shove her butt through when I noticed that she must have sat in a puddle.  Her bottom was soaked, and not just around the edges of her buttcheeks, which is where she usually gets wet if she busts a diaper, but nearly dripping wet.  Upon further examination, it was pee.  I thought, for a second, that I had forgotten to put a diaper on her.  That's what it was like.  I snatched her up, and tried to hold her in such a way as to not get pee on me.  I was unsuccessful.  In the nearby bathroom, I dried her off, wiped her clean, and re-diapered her.  I had no spare plastic bag, so I tossed the shorts she was wearing.  She wasn't going to fit in them for much longer anyway.  Then, we went to a nearby Gymboree to buy a new pair of pants.  

I generally don't put shoes on Temple until after we are done at the playground, because shoes aren't allowed there.  So, we are in Gymboree, and Temple is squirming to get out of my arms, so I put her down to walk around.  She is wearing a tee-shirt and a diaper.  No shoes, no pants.  She looks like a hobo.  I'm scanning the store for a cheap pair of shorts.  Someone who works there asks if she can help me.  I point at pantless T and say, "my daughter obviously needs some pants."  We bought some nice leggings that will last her through the winter.  Done.

Part II - we go back to the playground and mess around for a bit longer, and Temple starts saying "bye-bye" and going for her shoes (and the shoes of others), and as I'm trying to put her socks and shoes on her (which is much like shoeing a horse), another mom starts feeding her kids Cheeze-Its.  Temple reacts like a goat in a petting zoo - she heads for the food.  I try to get her away, but the mom is very nice and offers Temple a Cheeze-It, and asks me if it's ok, and I say sure, and thank you, and Temple starts wolfing down the Cheeze-Its like I don't feed her.  On the one hand, I don't want Temple to hog someone else's snack, but on the other, I'm glad to have found another food she'll eat, and I'm making a mental note to buy some Cheeze-Its when Temple gags and makes a noise like she's coughing up a hairball and barfs.  It wasn't like she spit up the Cheeze-Its, she vomited into my hands. 

I decided we were done with the playground for the day.  

Because my hands were full with a pee-baby, then yack, I took no photos of these events, so I leave you with a recent photo of Temple coming for your soul.

Misty watercolor memories

Beautiful picture, right?  It's from Matt's work picnic.  To me, it symbolizes the innocence and hopefulness of childhood.  Temple is at such a beautiful age.  

You know what else symbolizes this time of wonder and exploration?  Me sticking a fork in my eye because it's 2:00 am and Temple has been screaming for the past two hours for no reason.

Our Friends in the North

Clearly, Temple is not used to the camera.  She was upset by the flash.  That look is why you aren't allowed to take pictures of the gorillas at the zoo.
There with T is James (in the gray), and Joseph.  Stef, their momma, is on the right edge, and my schnoz is hanging there in the left lower corner.  Fortunately, Temple has Matt's nose.  Matt went to Egypt last weekend, and rather than sit home by myself and find reasons to be angry with him while is halfway around the world, me and Temple went on a ladies' road trip to visit our friends in Long Island.  Temple was an angel on the trip.  She slept nearly the whole way there and the first three hours of the way back, which was sad for my bladder.  She wasn't the best sleeper while we were there, but we had fun staying up late in the hotel and watching My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding.  I love a clean hotel room.  Even thought T didn't nap very well, she was content to hang in her Pack 'n Play with Babcock and Owl Pacino for two hours each afternoon so Mamma could get some horizontal bed time.  It was a refreshing change to chill during T's afternoon T time.  I'm usually cleaning or interneting.
It was indescribably wonderful to see Stef and her family.  Spending time with such an old and dear friends was energizing.  I'm so grateful for the weekend.
The rest of T and my week went well.  We held it together through Matt's trip.  No major surgeries or housing crises.  Stay busy, that's what I say.
I'm going to try to blog more frequently.  I feel the writey party of my brain atrophying.
In non-Temple related news, I went for a short and horrible walk last night.  It was short because I had just eaten 5 baby back ribs, and was hurrying home to eat 5 more.  It was horrible because of several horrors I observed.  I saw a deer with what looked like an infected bullet wound in his eyeball.  It was black and covered in flies.  I saw a soaking wet, shivering baby raccoon (actually, that was pretty cute).  A black cat crossed my path with what I thought was a dead bunny in his mouth.  It turned out to be an almost dead bunny.  Finally, near the dirty house where the drug addict mother lives, I saw posters on poles from the National Foundation for Missing and Exploited Children.  The fifteen year old skanky daughter is now an "endangered runaway."  I noticed that she is my height, and weighs 40 pounds less than I do.  Tracy, the gossip, tells me that the girl is "selling herself."  We really need to move out of this neighborhood.

Kindness

Yesterday, I went to Sam's Club to get Temple a crate of diapers.  She wears a size 5 now.  She's got her mamma's junk in the trunk.  As we were getting back in the car, I was telling T about all the other errands we were going to do before going home for lunch.  Then my car wouldn't start.  I had left the light on several times, draining the battery, and now the thing was just done.  Fortunately, Sam's has an auto store, and it only took a few minutes for a nice gentleman to give the car a jump, but I took it as a sign that I should schedule the 100,000 maintenance.  

Good thing I did, because this morning, the sucker wouldn't start again.  I jumped her again with Matt's estranged truck, and we headed toward the dealer for service.  Our favorite diner, Double T, is less than a mile from the dealer, but rain clouds loomed.  We left the car and hustled our buns up West Street.  It started raining when we were about a quarter mile away.  We took refuge at a gas station while I put the poncho over the small section of stroller not covered by the water resistant canopy.

To this point, I was, surprisingly, holding it together, but I could have fallen in to a bad mood/panic easily.

We were seated, and I ordered myself eggs to eat, and got Temple some pancakes to throw around.  She ate zero pancakes, but did have some beef sausage.  She mostly chewed on containers of cream and jelly.

Except for the pancake throwing, she was very well behaved and darling, as usual.

When I asked for the check, the waiter told me that someone had already paid it, and wouldn't tell me who it was.  Isn't that nice?  The kindness of strangers made my day.  I'll proceed with gratitude and pay it forward.

Gwowth

The above is a picture of Temple from Stef's baby shower on August 29, 2010.  T was about 4 months old.

This is T dressed as a bunny wabbit in Target.  She is about 10 months old here.
T-sauce is going to be a year old in just a few weeks!  My wittle bitty daughter is getting so big!
You know what else is gwowth?  The stink bugs.  They are nasty and omnipresent in my house.  I think they are all in my house.  I haven't ever seen one outside.  They live here, like us.

Laissez les bon Temple roullez

Joyeux Mardi Gras!  No one here in Maryland gives a rat's A about Mardi Gras.  Honestly, I don't have a special relationship with Mardi Gras, either, especially since I quit drinkin'.  I had the opportunity to go to the Mardi Gras my senior year in college, but punked at the last minute because I'm an idiot.  I thought it would be more fun to spend spring break alone in my house.  We like to celebrate holidays around these parts, though, just like monkeys do in the zoo.  Holidays break up the year and we get to wear funny hats.  Temple and I wore our matching Fat Tuesday outfits, and people looked at us like we were clowns, probably because we were dressed like clowns.  

We went to Whole Foods to get the makings of a gumbo for my tater.  Matt's got some slave in him, so the bar was high.  For the roux, I used the bacon grease I had been saving for many months.  I saved it instinctively any time Matt went on a bacon kick, but I never knew what I would use it for until today.  Recipe:  Equal parts grease and flour over medium high heat until it smelled toasty, like popcorn.  Add diced yellow onion, celery, and okra.  Sweat the veggies.  Add beef broth and a can of tomato sauce.  Bring to a boil.  Add andouille and chicken.  Heat until meat is done.  Season with Tony Chachere's and Crystal.  Enjoy.

Matt dug it big time.  I took a picture of his satisfied face, but he told me not to put any douchey pictures of him on the internet. 

We also had King Cake today.  My recipe for King Cake: buy a King Cake.  Eat it.

Here we are in our matching outfits.  I look pregnant in this picture, don't I?  I'm not.  I'm full of baby Jesus cake.  By the way, it seems that Whole Foods' King Cake is decorated with beads, but contains no baby Jesus.  Uh, derp?

Lent starts tomorrow.  Lent is really bikini season prep for Catholics, so I'm thinking about going old school and saying farewell to flesh for the 40 days.  The last time I tried to go vegetarian, vegan, actually, I lasted 5 days then ate a whole live pig, so we'll see how this goes.  I'll also be speaking exclusively latin and wearing a hair shirt.

Adeste Fideles, todos mis amigos...  

My Gyro

Since she was born, the Sleep Sheep has been Temple's constant companion in bed.  It is one of the few items she has used since birth (one of the others is the McClaren Chair.  Thanks, Kat, Stef and Emily!).  I wrote about it before.  It is an adorable stuffed sheep that emits soothing white noise.  Temple prefers the sound of the ocean, but also available are sounds of a babbling brook, a rainforest, and the wind whistling through the trees.  Even after Temple met Owl Pacino and started sleeping with him every night, the Sleep Sheep has kept watch, a faithful sentinel shushing baby T to sleep.   

                            So it is particularly grotesque that Temple's favorite food, really the only protein she will eat, is gyro.  Apparently, she's got a little Greek in her, because she will go to town on some tzatziki and lamb.  Of course, Matt and I think it's great.  Every time she eats the gyro, she seems to sleep longer at night, and that means Matt is sleeping more, which makes gyro Matt's hero.    

 

"You make me baahrf.  I don't know how you sleep at night...O, wait."

The Droid

Emily tells me that it doesn't count as a post if there are no pictures.  Matt already shared this one on Facebook, but Emily is all "Anti," so here it is again.  It's a great picture Matt took of the T while they were on a walk last week when the weather was beautiful and I was at work.  You can't see it, but she's got teeth growing in there.  Her bunny teeth are still working their way out.  Did I already write about how she sounds like R2D2?  Well she does.  Beeps and phonemes in the sing song of English, but no intelligible words.  Although, this morning, I thought I heard her say mamma.  She slept through the night again, and I heard her cooing around 8am.  She usually yells and yells until I go get her, but this morning she was pretty quiet.  I went to get her around 8:15, and she was laying on her back, chewing on Owl Pacino and waving Gigio around, content.  When she saw me, I really thought she said something like mamma.  Probably she was just saying dada again, but with her mouth full.

I started writing this post last night when Matt fell asleep on the couch at 8:30pm, but I found I didn't have a lot to say.  Of course, T is doing new and exciting things every day, but you could read about most of those in a childhood development book.  I'm working out, working, and taking care of the house.  Not a lot of drama over here, and I have been pretty serene mentally, too.  I hadn't been sleeping well, which I thought was due to sinus trouble, but my doctor thought was residual sleep disruption from Tiny T.  He gave me a prescription for Lunesta (the one with the commercials with the neon butterfly), but I'm weary of taking a prescription sleep aid.  It has been known to cause hallucinations and suicidal thoughts, and while the hallucinations sound like fun, I'd rather not roll the dice with the more serious side effects.  A friend suggested melatonin.  My reflex is to think that holistic stuff doesn't work, but I gave it a shot, knowing that the narcotic option was still available, and it seems to work.  I'm waking up more refreshed and with more energy.  I've also reduced my caffeine intake from 40 ounces throughout the day to about 20 ounces before 11am.  Sometimes it bothers me that I don't have more to write about.  In the early weeks and months of Temple's birth, I wrote on this blog a lot, and I realize now that it helped me work out a lot of emotions.  I am grateful that I'm more at peace these days, but I miss the ease of writing.  I'm also a little out of practice.  I'll try to write more in the mornings while Temple is roving, climbing, and terrorizing the dogs.  I leave you with another picture, this one of Turbo Temple.

Gnocchi Dokey

Updates in bullet point form, random order: 

• Temple is 9 months old.  Holy cow.  She weighs 23.5 pounds, and is 29.5 inches.  Her rate of head growth has leveled.  She has sensitive skin, like her mamma, and so gets a bath and a coat of Aquafor every night.  We have to wipe out her folds because, as the doctor said, "she is a St. Bernard."
• Temple says Dada.  She calls everything Dada - Matt, me, dogs, tv, stink bugs.  She also says Ee Dee Dee, but we haven't figured out what that means yet.
• Temple is teething.  She's got two lower teeth, and she is working on the upper bunny teeth.  She has been a little cranky, but I got her some Nighttime Baby Ora-Gel.  It claims to be safe for babies four months and older, but I can't get over the feeling that I'm giving her drugs.  Not that that is a problem.
• Temple went to her first yoga class.  It was a mother and baby yoga class at a real yoga studio.  All the other babies sat with their mothers and did as instructed.  Temple wandered all over the studio messing with other babies' stuff.  She didn't even want to sit with me during shivasana.  Temple wins the Independent Spirit Award. 
• I still love my job.  I missed it so much when the restaurant was closed for a three week winter hiatus that I asked a favor of my brother in law and worked on pasta at his restaurants for a few days.  It was tedious and back breaking, but worth it.
• My hair is dry, brittle, and falling out.  I shouldn't keep it up all the time, but I do, because if I didn't, Temple the Tazmanian devil would tear it out.  

That's all for now.  I'm sorry I'm not more entertaining.  I spend all my wit on the post title.

Temple and St. JP2

It seems that Pope John Paul II will be beatified on Temple's first birthday, May 1, 2011.  Perhaps this is the Lord telling me that I should return to the Church.  Or perhaps this means that I should serve kielbasa and perogies at T's birthday party. 

Ill, and not the good kind

My T and my M are sick.  Temple got the stuffies and the coughies from her "friends" Jarin and Tobin, who were here last weekend to enjoy Matt's 15 hour smoked pork shoulder.  They brought their parents, Tim and Lucia, and did not actually eat any pork themselves.  They were too busy spreading disease.  It's not too bad.  Temple doesn't have a fever.  She has been having trouble eating because of the congestion.  On Thursday, the first night of the sickness, she woke up after only 3 hours hacking and snorting like a bull, and we couldn't get an accurate read from the ear thermometer because of all the head bucking, and we couldn't get her to hold the conventional thermometer in her mouth for the 12 minutes it apparently takes to get a read.  She didn't feel warm, but Matt panicked, and raced through the night to get a thermometer.  He had to go 20 minutes to the 24 hour CVS, where he saw two gentlemen in chef's jackets shopping.  One bought a Tombstone Pizza.  The other, a family size bag of Doritos and a jar of Salsa con Queso.  Sounds like a party.  By the time he got home, Temple had had 4 ounces of formula, and was asleep.  I was smugly feigning sleep.  I was concerned about Temple, too, but a thermometer is not a cure, and she did eat some and fall asleep.  I called the doc in the morning.  There's nothing to be done but make sure she is hydrated.  Matt keeps flushing her nasals with saline and the sucky bulb, like she's a nuclear reactor, so now, in addition to congestion, she had a chapped face.  His neurotic concern is touching, and it's a shame that Temple will be emotionally scarred from it.