|May 9, 2013||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
So… this is me.
I needed a head shot, quickly, and I just so happened to have dinner plans with my homie Mollie last night, who is a photographer, and a close enough friend that I can boss her around, so I told her to bring her camera to take my picture before dinner. Then she bossed me around, told me to look here, smile, and we were done. This is the first pic of me that I’ve liked in a long time because a) I think I actually have a natural smile, rather than the “possessed OMG look how happy I am” smile that I usually wear in pics, and 2) I am pregnant, but you can’t see my bump so I can use this for a while, but I do have the pregnant boobs which are really just regular sized boobs for a normal person, but whatever, bonus.
Why did I need a head shot?! So glad you asked. I am going to be a speaker at the Texas Style Council Summer School this year. I am going to be showing people how to accessorize and which shoes to wear with what. HA. Stop laughing. Actually, don’t because I was cracking up as I was writing that. Obv, I have no business advising anyone on wearing anything. Every time I have something to dress for I have to ask George, Alice, my friends in the computer, and my neighbor if it looks ok and I know my ass is huge but is it REALLY huge in this and ok, what about necklaces and oh, can I borrow that one? Yesterday I had to run down the street to a friends house to steal dresses, then come back and have a fashion show for George, then have him pick a dress so I could pick a different one.
Anyway, I’ll be hosting a Q&A for the style ladies to ask me anything as a lawyer and then I’ll try to answer their questions or at least get their card so I can look up the answers and get back to them. The fun part is that I get to attend the rest of the conference, so hopefully being around pretty ladies who dress great will rub off on me.
Participating in an event like this isn’t exactly going to put me in my element, but it feels good to be doing something just for me.
|May 3, 2013||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
Baby soup. ex: “What’s that, Mama?” “It’s my bathing suit.” “Oh! I yike your baby soup. It’s so bootiful.”
Funny tail. ex: “I want a funny tail in the back like Mama. Mama, put my hair in a funny tail like you. You want a funny tail, too, Mama?”
And she used to say, “starburrs” for strawberries, and “blalalala” for banana, and
pooputer” for computer, and “happy circle” for hexagon, but because time is evil, she is growing up, and now says all of those things the right way.
I brush my teeth and she asks for her toofbrush, because, “I want to be Mama.” I do my hair and she mimics, because, “I want to be Mama.” Not like Mama, she wants to be Mama. My heart is full and my ego swells and I soak it all up because I know in less than 10 years she’ll be asking me to drop her off around the corner for fear that the other tweens know that her mom drives her to school without makeup on. I love that she can communicate with me, that she can tell me what she’s thinking (this morning she saw a monster from a space ship but it’s ok it was a nice monster), and that I can tell her I love her and know that while she can’t fully grasp how much, she can hear it, and she can say it back. This age is amazing. This girl is amazing.
And the sweetest is this:
Staring hard at my belly last night, she peered right into my belly button, patted all around and said, “Yittle brudder need to come out so I can give him a tiss.” And I died, right there, thinking that maybe this two kid thing isn’t going to be so bad after all.
Oh, blog, I forgot to tell you that I’m gestating. It’s ok, the rest of the world already knows. It’s a boy. We are calling him Baer, unless I freak out at the last minute and give in to G and make him a junior. I feel amazing lately, after a rocky first tri where I was sick and went on meds that had horrible side effects. But it’s been smooth sailing now for a month or two and, after about a day of HOLYSHITIKNOWNOTHINGABOUTBOYS… I’m excited. After the nurse told us there was a penis on the baby she left, then came back to make sure I was ok, so shocked was the look on my face. Oops.
So, a boy. I’m starting to look at little blue onesies and room decor. We are all slowly potty training– as much as we can with only two hours at night with her and weekends. Yesterday was a banner day with three times gone in the potty, lots of smiles and cheers and proud looks on chubby toddler faces. We’ve also started swim lessons, and if last week’s first lesson was any indication, it’s going to be amazing. I’ve been counting the days until we can go back. Just one more sleep. It was a half hour of her giggling. I can’t think of anything better.
|February 7, 2013||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
I haven’t totally forgotten you, dear blog. I’ve just been living and enjoying and smiling and loving and working and sleeping and thinking, “I should write about this!” and then not doing it. So now I do it.
Oh, my baby. Baby, baby. I’m at work, eating lunch at my desk, and my eyes are stinging with tears. I am gripping my desk and taking deep breaths, willing myself to stay in my chair and not to run out of the office, out of the building, across the street and to my car to drive across town to run into your school and pick you up and feel your smooth, warm face against mine and smell your hair. I miss you, still, even though we’ve been at this for over two years, this routine where I drop you off and go do other things while someone else makes you laugh and feeds you and fills in for me. Some days it’s not hard at all. It’s easy. Other days it hurts my heart.
But I’ll leave you there for another few hours. And wait until it’s time and when it is I’ll bolt out of here, happier, already, at the thought that in 30 minutes or so I’ll be kissing your face with the snotty nose and squeezing your chubby thighs and pleading with you to just buckle the damned seat belt if you are going to do it, or else I’ll do it for you. I’ll do my work, work that seems so trivial and worthless when I think that I’m getting to do it in exchange for being apart from you for 10 hours a day. I’ll push through, knowing that you are waiting for me, that you’ll run to me, and that in just a few more hours, my arms will be just as full as my heart is with you.
|October 18, 2012||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
I kissed your daddy’s feet well before you were born, before you were even a, “Maybe we’ll have a kid someday…” It’s a funny idea- kissing your loved one’s feet, but I guess not when you consider that it’s just another way we are intimate. I love feet. I think your dad puts up with it because he knows it makes me happy.
I kiss the dogs’ paws all the time, too. They hate it.
When you came along, I could not keep your teeny, wiggly toes away from my lips. I remember the day you were born, you were about 4 hours old or so, and I was feeding you in the nursery when I realized I hadn’t seen your toes yet. They wrapped you up pretty quick in the delivery room so I hadn’t gotten a chance. It’s funny the things a mama remembers. So I unwrapped you and rubbed your bony feet as you nursed. They were soft and barely there.
I’ve kissed your feet at every diaper change since then. I didn’t know if you thought anything of it, but this week you started offering them to me. I lay you on the changing table and you hold ‘em up. “Tiss piggy!” And I do.
This morning Dad and I drove you to school and were waiting for them to open when you lifted your little ham feet to us and demanded more kisses. I was just thinking how symbiotic it is- me loving to kiss your little toes and you loving them to be kissed.
You fit just right on my hip, too.
|October 1, 2012||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
In honor of our favorite man’s birthday, Alice and I made a movie montage. Well, I made it and she banged on the keyboard a few times in between Yo Gabba Gabba and Bubble Guppies. But I guess she did provide all of the cute in the photos, so we’ll call it even.
|September 28, 2012||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
Life’s cruelest lessons are sometimes learned too early.
Boobin was happily enjoying her “breakfast cookie” this morning.
Feeling generous, she offered Odie a bite of it. She offered it out of love, both of the cookie and of the dog. Is there any act more kind, more loving, more selfless than inviting a beloved four legged friend to share in the deliciousness of a warm, chewy, fruit and nut filled pastry? I cannot think of one.
But instead of just a bite, Odie took so much more. And Boobin was bitten in the proverbial ass.
He took not a bite, not two… but the entire cookie. Her breakfast cookie was snatched from her hand and swallowed whole. Triumphant, he sat in front of her, begging for more.
Boobin’s face went from smiling, loving, inviting… to hurt, sadness, anger, defeat.
“DOG!! COOKIE!! DOOOOOOOOOOG!!!! PUPPY! ALICE’S COOOKIEEEEE”
At that moment George came in from the garage to find his baby sobbing, gasping for breath, as if she’d been smacked hard in the face, or broken her arm, or punched in the gut.
“Is she hurt?!” he asked, concerned. “Only in her heart,” I replied, frantically looking for his breakfast cookie to offer her.
“Here!” I exclaimed, handing her the cookie, wanting to make the screeching stop (ohgodmakeitstop!).
She took it, but even a replacement cookie could not, would not, repair her broken heart. She hiccuped and clutched the cookie to her heart, boring laser eyes at Odie while he lay sheepishly on the rug across the room.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. You have to be careful when offering the dog treats. Sometimes they don’t understand that you only meant for them to take a bite.” I soothed, wiping her tear soaked cheeks with a tissue.
“Puppy, cookie,” she whimpered, catching her breath.
Her friend had betrayed her. She offered him a little, and he took a lot, leaving her with nothing (well, nothing but her dad’s cookie which she didn’t even eat but a bite or two of but whatever it’s the principle!). It is my hope that over time (actually, I think she forgot about it by the time we got in the car) she will have forgiven her furry friend. The hurt runs deep, but time heals all wounds.
Oh, sweet girl. You are dramatic and funny and kind. And I love you.
|September 20, 2012||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
Yesterday, you pooped in the potty for the first time and counted to 9. And, I missed it.
The pooping thing isn’t something that I feel so strongly about being present for, although I would have loved to see the proud look on your face when your teachers cheered for you and told you that you were a big girl.
The counting surprises me a little. When we play I count and notice if you’ll count with me or repeat what I’m saying and it rarely happens. It certainly doesn’t go past 2. But your teacher said that yesterday he was counting out snack trays to put down and you started counting as he placed them on the table. He kept going, past what he needed, to see how high you’d count. 9.
When I picked you up they were so excited to tell me. She went in the potty! She counted to 9! I also had a nice thick folder full of art work you’ve created in the past few weeks along with pictures of you playing dress up, playing in paint, playing in paint while dressed up, playing in the sprinkler…
But I’m missing it. It helps that when I pull into the school parking lot in the morning, as soon as you can see the building you yell, “JIMMY!” for your morning teacher, and then “TOMMY!” for your friend. I know to get my kisses and hugs before I get you out of the car because there’s a good chance that Jimmy has something so exciting planned for you (yesterday it was painting on a wall, today it was furry blankets) that I might not get your attention once we enter the classroom for a proper goodbye. Today we walked in and you ran into the room, screaming and laughing, threw yourself on a furry blanket and squealed with delight. I know you are having fun at school. I know you are learning. I know you are loved there.
But, I miss you.
|August 30, 2012||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
I don’t know how to say this other than to just come out with it. Although it may seem like a subject that should stay private and dealt with behind closed doors, we do live in a digital age. And, since I frequently share the good things with the world, I figure it’s only fair to also share the bad.
In early 2010, I had some weak moments. Two, to be exact. George knows and we’ve worked through it, mostly for the sake of Alice, but lately it’s apparent that though we’ve almost completely moved past my indiscretions, there will always be a constant reminder of them… well, I’m rambling now.
I was unfaithful to G and now we don’t know who Alice’s father is.
There are two possibilities:
|July 10, 2012||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
So, yeah, it’s been a couple of months. And then a couple of months before that. Whatevs. Nothing huge has been happening around here unless you count tons of talking and dancing and communicating. We have a half-pint that tickles us and gives us a mischievous look then runs to the corner so we can catch up and tickle her. “Can you say ___” is followed with a resounding yes. Yes, she can say it. Everything. It’s awesome.
Temper tantrums have also been happening, accompanied by lots of deep breaths and counting to ten. But, thankfully they aren’t the norm and most days we are able to swim and play and dance without incident. We’re having a lot of fun in our house.
And (this one is mournworthy)… the little one has been thinning out. She has one well defined leg roll now, but the rest of her legs are getting quite thin and her belly barely spills over her diaper anymore. Sad mama.
And it’s not that I wasn’t moved to blog in the past few months, because I was. But we had an issue with our storage something or other and I couldn’t upload the giant pic files from my camera and without the pics of the cutie pie there really only is my blathering and I just didn’t want to waste the space.
Until today, when something so monumental occurred that I couldn’t let it go by without documenting it with the same verbosity and meticulous manner that all rites of passage in a young girl’s life deserve. Are you ready? You aren’t, but here it is.
I know. It’s ridiculous. That was the outside photo shoot. Next up is the shoot we did inside. When you see these you’ll understand why there needed to be an outside shoot. Someone wanted to kiss the cute baby in the phone rather than pose for a pigtail optimizing photo. Ugh.
Yeah. So, more pigtails.
And they aren’t perfect. The part is off and there are flyaways. Alice is a squirmy worm and didn’t like me messing with her “haar”. So we ended up with lopsided, half up, and misplaced.
But, then again… they kind of are perfect, don’t ya think? Kinda like her.
|May 27, 2012||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
We are at Mimi’s for Memorial Day weekend, lounging in the pool and soaking up sun and toddler giggles. Alice awoke this morning way too early (5am!) and the moment she saw that we were in the same room she wanted to get into bed with us. It’s a novelty so there was no way she was going back to sleep, but just when I started to wake up enough to get annoyed I felt tiny soft hands on my face. Her fingers traced my eyes and nose and settled on my mouth. The next thing I knew she put her head on my pillow and pressed her lips to mine in sweet baby kisses over and over. Unsolicited and so precious. She can wake me up anytime for that.