Thursday, June 14, 2012

And now, for the brilliance of Tina Fey

Okay, I don't have daughters, but I think the majority of this applies nonetheless. This is courtesy of Her Awesomeness Ms. Tina Fey:

"The Mother's Prayer for its Daughter"

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it's the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach's eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered,

May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half

And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her

When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the nearby subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called "Hell Drop," "Tower of Torture," or "The Death Spiral Rock N' Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith," and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance.

Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes

And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I'm asking You because if I knew, I'd be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.

Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long,

For Childhood is short -- a Tiger Flower blooming

Magenta for one day --

And Adulthood is long and Dry-Humping in Cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever,

That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers

And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister,

Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends,

For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord,

That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 a.m., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

"My mother did this for me once," she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby's neck.

"My mother did this for me." And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental note to call me. And she will forget.

But I'll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.


Monday, June 11, 2012

The One In Which I Bleed All Over My Kid

Last night as we were getting Carter ready for bed in our room (G goes to sleep first, so Carter's nighttime routine now takes place in our room so as not to wake the little one), Max was reading Curious George while Carter and I lay on the bed snuggling together. Suddenly something in the story was REALLY EXCITING because The Roo sprang upright, pointed to the book with a joyous exclamation of some kind (it's a bit blurry), and just as quickly flopped back down - RIGHT ON MY FACE.

Oh, the pain of an almost-three-year-old falling directly onto your nose. I saw stars, checked that my two front teeth were, in fact, still attached, and excused myself just as my nose began bleeding. It's been probably twenty years since I had my last nosebleed, but I stopped it up fairly quickly, dulled my pain with carmelized brussel sprouts (GAH! Adore!) and a wee bit o' white wine, and forgot the incident.

Griffin awoke around 4:45, and I brought him into our bed for his early morning nursing session, as I always do. As usual, I drifted back to sleep while he had his snack, cuddling cozily up to his warm little baby self.

...until ten minutes later, when I awoke and sleepily wondered why Griffin's forehead was damp.

Yes, you see where I'm going with this. Yes, my nosebleed had come back with a vengeance, ALL OVER my sweet baby's head. Yes, sopping up your blood from your sleeping baby's face is a delightful way to begin the week.

Little G looked like he was part of a super-tough baby street gang and had just been in a rumble with the babies from the wrong side o' the tracks. Or maybe HE'S the baby from the wrong side o' the tracks?


Don't freak out - those are beets, not my blood. I couldn't resist.

Thursday, June 7, 2012


- My parents have been in Jordan and London for the past ten days, visiting my sister-in-law's family and my cousin, respectively. They haven't traveled internationally for almost forty years, so hearing about my small-town folks trekking about the Middle East will be a HOOT, let me tell you. That said, I miss my mom - I never realized how often I call her, mainly to whine about how tired I am, and I keep having to remind myself that she's not an option. Until tomorrow, when she comes back. MAMA!

- We had our orientation meeting for Carter's new school today and I am once again blown away by its awesomeness. He's getting very excited about it and has been telling everyone that he's going to a NEW SCHOOL and he's going to make NEW FRIENDS! Hopefully this excitement will dull the inevitable anxiety during the transition. I told his current school that he was leaving a couple of weeks ago, and it went better than I anticipated. The director didn't give me crap about it or make any snide comments, but that's probably because I got all teary when I was telling her and made it a point to reiterate how much we like her facility and how great they've been and how it's nothing negative about her school, etc. Then I had to tell his current teacher - more teariness from yours truly. Then she started sniffling too and all was forgiven.

- We have no major trips planned this summer, and I am very pleased with this. When Carter was a baby we hauled our asses to Cape Cod and Boston for a week, and as lovely as it was, traveling with tiny babypeople is a stressful experience. I'm perfectly content to bop on up to see Grandma and Grandpa for a long weekend in July and call that our summer vaca. It helps that I'm from wine country. There will be wine - oh yes, there will be wine. And candy. And really, really good coffee.

- Little G has quite the sniffle today and I've been sucking snot out of his face like it's going out of style. I find myself once again praising the heavens for the brilliant Nosefrida - and I'm also quite grateful for our happy little humidifier friend.

- Speaking of the Schmiffins, we did a little sleep training back in late April, and for a few lovely weeks everybody at Chez Draitser was sleeping through the night. Despite all my hand-wringing about it, it was easy as pie - the first night he fussed for about 35 minutes (Carter and Daddy slept on the living room floor) and then conked out til 6am, the second night for five minutes, and that was it. Then he started teething and the whole thing was shot to hell. He's currently waking up once a night around 2am, and I do an 11pm dreamfeed before going to bed. Once these accursed teeth break through (DEAR GOD, TEETH! WHERE YOU AT?) and the cold evaporates, we'll re-train. I had forgotten that's how it works - something always arises - sickness, teething, whatever - JANKS your great-sleeper up, and you need to redo everything. Sheeeeeesh.

- I am really loving on Farmer's Markets lately. Our old Hollywood one was not particularly kid-friendly, but I discovered an amazing one in Studio City, just over the hill from us, with an incredible petting zoo (bunnies and duckies and piggies, oh my!), train (not that Carter will ride on one), pony rides (ditto) - the whole shebang, and Carter's daycare friends go every Sunday so we've been meeting up for playdates in which they basically run around like hooligans while we (okay, me) scout all the celebrities with their kids wandering by (what's UP, Jason Priestley and family!?!). Throw in some organic produce and everybody's happy.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Last night as I was changing Carter's diaper, he was holding his Lightning McQueen racecar from Cars in one hand and his Scruff train from Thomas the Tank Engine in the other and he proceeded to make his friends have the following conversation:

"Oh, hello, have you seen The Lion King?"
"Yeah, the meerkat and the warthog are friends and then they fight like this:"
(racecar and train attack each other in clanking jumble of wood on metal)
"Okay, now it's time to talk about Monsters, Inc."
"Yes, the scary monster is in the boy's room and then he trips over the soccer ball and falls down on his bottom and it's SO FUNNY!"
(proceeds to laugh hysterically while train/racecar clank once again)

Sidenote: while he went through a huge Lion King phase a few weeks ago and wanted to watch it repeatedly every weekend (yes, TV is still only a weekend treat), he hasn't seen it recently and has only seen Monsters, Inc a few times, weeks and weeks ago - apparently that soccer ball scene made a big impression. Occasionally we'll be driving to school and he'll pipe up from the backseat - "Mommy? The scary monster was in the boy's room..." yadda yadda.


The other day I realized that the days are just FLYING past and that my boys are growing bigger with each one that passes, and I'm not writing ANYTHING down lately. Yesterday I was reading a magazine while pumping (for the 40,873rd time) and there was an interview with some 70s female rocker - Stevie Nicks, maybe? - and she said that she writes in her journal every night, "because if you don't write it down, you'll still remember it, but it will be just a ghost of a memory." And by damn, I don't want ghost memories of my babies' childhoods, I want the total, whole-hog, detail-packed EVERYTHING of a memory.

Oh, these boys of mine. Every (crazy, exhausting) day is something new. Lately Carter likes to tell us "the plan" and tick things off on his fingers. As in:

"Okay, here's the plan: 1: We go home. 2: We take off our shoes. 3: We wash our hands. 4: We take a nap. 6. We wake up from the nap. 5: We watch SUPER WHY!!!"

...all said while ticking the items off on his little fingers, held up in the air. I have no idea where he got the "here's the plan," but I don't think Max says it, so perhaps it's just another of the many things that I say regularly that I am not fully cognizant of, so that when he repeats it later I am taken aback and have one of those "kids say the darndest..." moments until I realize that I probably said that very thing to him yesterday.

The Super Why fixation is a new development over the past few weeks. Of all the kids' shows I know, I couldn't have picked a more educational one for him to obsess over - plus racing to his "Why-Flyer Chair" is one of the only ways to get him into his carseat each night when I pick him up, so bless you, Super Why. Sometimes we'll be out for a walk or at the park and he'll take off running and shout "SUPER WHY!!!!" at the top of his little lungs. Pure joy. It's also his inroad to making new friends, as I've noticed him walking up to strange children at the park and saying "I'm going to go home and watch SUPER WHY!" Usually these are much older children and they just look at him like he's a little insane, but watching my shy boy become more sociable is pretty much the most adorable thing I've ever seen.

Griffin is 8.5 months, crawling and exploring everything and everywhere. He's simply the happiest baby, so much so that when he does cry, it is so strange and rare that we all just stop and look at each other like "who is this strange child and what has it done with our baby?" Then two seconds later he's smiling again and bouncing, dancing, up and down in your arms. He's pure joy and love and big squishy baby thighs all wrapped up into one sweet roly-poly little package (weighing in at 19.6 lbs at his 8-month check-up, solidly 50th percentile across the board, yet he seems so huge compared to Carter's tiny 10-percentile self).

It'll sound crazy, but I do believe that Griffin has now said two words - the first, Carter's name, was uttered over a month ago, and he IS talking about his brother - "Dar-duh! Dar-duh!" No Mama, no Dada - this boy only has eyes for his big brother. And for the ducks in his bathtub and on the walls of his bedroom - "Duh! Duh!"

Brothers. Watching their relationship develop is both magical and nervewracking. It's all sweet and fine until somebody gets their head sat on. "We don't hit/squish/step on/crawl over/tease/steal toys from the baby" is a daily conversation with The Roo, who has become FIERCELY protective of his train set and lets out a "NOOOOO, Baby Griffin!!!" wail whenever Little G starts heading toward the tracks. He could be ten feet away, but if his smiling, drooling little self is pointed in the general direction of the trainset, panic ensues and the frantic "NOOOOO-ing" begins. Sharing does happen, and is getting better, bit by bit. There are lots of "CanIPlayWithThatToyBabyGriffin?" asked AFTER the stealing of the toy has already occurred, but at least Carter's asking. Not that Griffin ever minds. His brother can do no wrong in his eyes. On weekends, when Carter is perched on the couch watching his precious Super Why (or Thomas, or Dinosaur Train), Griffin crawls over and pulls himself onto his knees just to stare at Carter and wonder how on earth he can himself up there and join the party. Then we start with the "Carter, please don't kick the baby in the face" talk, because I don't need an errant heel to the noggin interrupting my (desperately needed) morning coffee.

And now, as I run off to a meeting, I leave you with 87,231 pictures of my kids.

Matching jammies - because I can.

G helping with the laundry (this entails flinging it out of the basket and all over the kitchen).

6:14am. Let the madness begin.

Just like Daddy

Demolishing a cupcake - THAT is my boy!

Mommy's birthday breakfast

Visiting Grandma & Grandpa - Easter

He was still just a little pumpkin here - February, 4 months old

At their 6-month/2.5-year appointments, with Grandma

This is what happens when you let your two-year-old eat yogurt on the couch.

"I'ma gonna GETCHA!"

Baba's Birthday

Everything! Is! So! Exciting!

My little love - May 2012