My Second Mate (or "Finally, a Post about the Second Kiddo")

Just because I haven't written about my son yet doesn't mean he isn't front and center in my life. Quite the opposite, in fact -- I'm not writing because he has joined HD as the main focus of my little life these past few months. So as we embark on his 7 month anniversary here on this planet, I write for my Callum Lad (CL):

My handsome little devil,

There will be times in your life where I'll feel the need to preemptively apologize to you, because you will be subject to many comparisons to your sister. This is not in anyway because she is better or more or bigger or what-have-you. It's simply by virtue of her being older and the sheer fact that she was able to do most things first.  But you've got one-up on her.  She's got the burden of being our first exposure to all aspects of parenting, so you'll be able to learn from her mistakes if you pay attention.

I'll not sugar-coat it, son -- HD was an awesome baby. She was rarely fussy, easily soothed, almost always happy, never sick, a good eater, a great sleeper. She cooed at folks, and they cooed back.  Because of this, your daddy and I just sort of assumed you'd be a demon baby. How could there be room for another awesome baby in the Brill family?  Did we already use up all the awesome with our first?  We were positive you'd be very needy, the male high-maintenance counterpart to our daughter. And that first month you did require a tad more hands-on managing than she did...but I attribute that to you being a newborn during cold weather instead of her summertime first months (our house was pretty cold).  But as we've come to know each other, you have proved yourself to be remarkably low-key and loving.  Then again, that may be due to the fact that Hurricane HD is 3, and the laws of nature allow for only one drama baby in a family at any given time.  Thank God.

CL, you have proved our demon theory so very wrong.  At a young age, you are already a little daydreamer.  You love gazing at sunlight, shadows, and wind blowing in trees, fascinated by the patterns in the light and always trying to physically touch that bit of magic you see.  You can entertain yourself for long periods, working out the mechanics of toys or kitchen utensils.  You are an amazing self-soother, calmly finding your thumb during moments of potential stress. If I happen to be holding you at such a moment, your free hand will stroke my hair (this slays me).  You love to mimic sounds.  Initially, you are serious upon seeing new people, sizing them up and drinking everything in.  But my, do you love to laugh.  Tickling, funny noises, and especially your sister are your primary sources of entertainment.  You adore your Sissy above anyone else.  Craning your neck to look after her movements, you will quickly dive toward her for a hug if she comes close by.

I'm in love with my bright boy.  And STRONG.  You are a serious yoga baby -- already doing full plank position in anticipation of crawling.  You'll get there soon, I have no doubt.  And as you pass each growth milestone, Daddy and I remind ourselves how different you are from your sister.  You've got her beat in some departments (crawling before she did, for sure), and will probably be a bit slower in others.  I can promise that as a family, we will work together to see what talents each of you present and what interests each of you as you get older.  You will like some of the same things (reading and music, IhopeIhopeIhope).  You will also have separate interests.  I just hope above all that you two learn to lean on each other, and remember that your parents love both of you for who you are, not for how you work as any sort of matched set.

And I promise, no photos of y'all in matching outfits over the years.  The one time that happened, it was a total accident, I swear.  I think Daddy dressed you that day.

3 Years Gone By...

Dearest, funniest, most imaginative Hahper Dahlin--

Today, you are three years old.  At this exact moment in time, you are tall, gangly, all limbs and long brown hair and eyes with killer lashes.  I have to refrain myself from exclaiming over how pretty you are, so you don't get a big head or think that looks are too important.  You are a mile-a-minute ball of energy who will pull every trick in the book to avoid bedtime...only to pass out cold for a solid 9 hour stretch once you've wiggled/sung/whispered/cried all your ya-yas out.  You are tenacious; insisting that other kids be your friend ("I'm talking to you!" you proclaim, your face peering a mere 3 inches away from theirs), or repeatedly jamming puzzle pieces around until you make them fit, or repeating your request until you've gotten your object of desire (or a suitable substitute).  Yet, you exhibit strange wells of patience and calm, be it when "reading" a book to yourself, allowing me to teach you songs, or talking to your younger bubba and letting his fingers rove your face while he coos.

Your favorite colors are "yellow and pink and blue."  Like your mama, you refuse to limit yourself to only one favorite of anything.  Your current obsession (now going 6 months strong) is The Wizard of Oz, and you were completely dazzled by the "ruby red slippers" and Wicked Witch doll you received for this birthday.  You have zero fear of the witch; in fact, you seem to believe her main objective is just to keep Toto as her own pet.  You adore "I'm Walkin'" by Fats Domino and the King's version of "Hound Dog."  Whenever Daddy gets home at the end of the day, you squeal and run for a hug, which utterly makes his day.  You have a monster set of pipes and abhor being shushed when you're crying...it only makes you holler louder ("I will not be quiet; I will cry LOUD!!" -- yes, we know).  You enjoy extra garlicky hummus, raw lemons, fish of any kind cooked in any fashion, pickles, olives, and fresh ground pepper on your entrees. 

You call your brother "my baby" and love to show him off to anyone who will listen.  You pet his head and like to kiss his eyes.  Other than your parents, Bubba is your biggest fan, and I love to watch his gaze follow you around the room.  You enjoy the villain characters in your movies and stories more so than the princesses, although you like them too.  You make me exercise all my old acting muscles by insisting that I portray various characters at the drop of a hat (just this week, I've had to be Santa Claus, Jafar, and the Wicked Witch).  You have a huge capacity for love, a memory like an elephant, the vocabulary of a 5 year old, and the fashion sense of Cyndi Lauper. 

I can scarcely believe that you used to be the length of my forearm, with jet black downy fur on your head.  The easiest baby ever, you're making up for lost time by now challenging your parents every single day.  You are 3 going on 13.  But tonight I will still snuggle with you and Pink Puppy, sing "Embraceable You" (you call it The Mama Song) and "Hide Your Love Away," and tuck you in with a kiss.  I will do all these little-girl-and-mama rituals as long as you'll let me.  I'll continue to pray for your health and safety every day, and I'll go to bed excited for all the new independence, ideas, and discoveries that this year will bring for us both.  You are my own special girl, and I love you always.

--Your Mama

No Rest for the Weary (or, "No, That Title Sums It Up")

Yesterday morning, I awoke to the thump-thump-thump of my daughter's footsteps running into my room, looked at the clock (6:01am), and tried very hard not to burst into tears.  My stoic face lasted for about 3 minutes.

Allow me to back up.  A lot has happened the past couple of months.  You know, little things like wrapping things up at work before a leave of absence, the holidays, the birth of my son -- I'll refer to him as CL.  I've been a parent of two for a bit over 3 weeks now.  For the most part, it's honestly been okay.  The most needy the baby gets is that he eats and farts constantly.  Usually at the same time.  HD has been pretty cool with the whole big sister thing.  She realized that the baby doesn't really do anything and that Mama & Daddy will still try their hardest to give her individual attention, so the most she interacts with CL is to occasionally pat his head or imitate my mama behavior on her baby doll.  Hubs spent 3 weeks at home on paternity leave, so that was really nice.  And we had 2 weeks of cleaning/HD playing assistance from my parents.  I do realize how easy I had it.

So what happened yesterday to set off waterworks?  Aside from the standard rush of post-partem hormones?  Mostly, I blame two days of only 10 hours of sleep.  Those folks who tell you to sleep with the baby is sleeping?  They may be well-intentioned, but I wager they are also the people who don't ever feel the need to do laundry or dishes or grocery shopping.  They probably also aren't trying to eat when the kid's asleep (sort of a must when you're breastfeeding a barracuda baby and ergo constantly starving).  And I guarantee that those people haven't encountered a baby who grunts/sings/snores in his sleep and who has a radar to start in on those noises the second that the adult in the room has finally nodded off.

Thursday night/Friday morning, I had been up with CL to feed him at 3:30am.  Hubs was in another room catching more sleep since he had gone back to work.  I don't fault him at all for this -- he does the burping/diapers during the first feeding shift (which is midnight-ish, usually).  Besides, it's not like he can feed a boob-only baby.  CL took an hour to feed, burp, change, and nod back off.  Then he started in with the grunting.  And weirdo little moans and cries in his sleep.  Which meant I didn't get to sleep until 5:20am myself.  Then the pitter patter (read, major foot thudding) of my daughter a good 45 minutes earlier than normal to wake me.  Begging me to find one of her lovies that was lost somewhere in the folds of her bed.  My toddler just doing what toddlers occasionally do.  Believe it or not, I did know that I signed up for this occasional behavior when I decided to become a parent.

I drag my exhausted, stinky (breastfeeding = weirdly major boob sweats every single freaking night), incoherent ass out of bed to her room.  I can't seem to find the damn lovie.  I utter a single sentence to plead with HD that it's still nighttime and she should get back in bed. Because she's 2.5 years old and a total morning person who wants milk & Yo Gabba Gabba now dammit, she starts to whine over this request.  And I sit on the floor of her room and bury my face in my hands, willing the tears to stop when they start spilling.  Advice to new or would-be parents -- try your effing hardest never to cry in front of your kids when they're little.  It scares your small child when you show a moment of true, fed-up weakness, especially if they in any way think it's their fault.  For reals.  Parents are toddlers' touchstones, their pillars of strength and knowledge.  When poor HD saw me, her steadfast mama who always has the answers to her questions, just start to lose it...well, it understandably freaked her out.  Full on screaming fit commenced at 6:05am, making it even harder for me to calm myself down, nevermind the kid.

Sure, exhaustion and frustration over lack of sleep kicked off the tears initially.  But I think what truly brought them on was the thought buried in the back of my head (and the heads of all mothers, everywhere) is the doubt that you'll ever be enough for your family.  The thought that there aren't enough hours in the day.  The feeling that you miss movie nights with your husband, and sex, and sleeping past 7am, and eating your supper slowly.  Worst, the thought that you're not present enough for your kids.  That you'd love to just play tea party with your daughter, but it's 5:45pm and you have to  make something nutritious for the family to eat.  That you want to take your son out in the stroller in the wintry sunshine, but the house needs to be vacuumed because the dust is causing the whole crew's allergies to act up.  That you want to kiss your husband, but you still haven't had time to brush your teeth in the 4 hours you've been up already.  Normally, I'm pretty good at taking all these things one at a time.  But that particular moment, every doubt in myself and my abilities backed up on me all at once.  

So Friday morning at the first onset of HD's tantrum, Hubs hightailed it upstairs to relieve me.  God bless that man (although he did clock about 2 hours more sleep than I did, so I didn't feel too bad that he woke).  Still blurry-eyed himself, he shuffled me to our bedroom, told HD I needed to rest, and got her all calmed and ready for the day and shipped off to daycare.  I breathed deeply, fed and cuddled my newborn son, and managed to get him back to sleep.  I turned off the tv, peeled off my smelly spit-up crusted pajamas, and made myself lay back in bed.  Slept for another hour.  Was lucky enough to score a shower since CL was still asleep when I got up.  That evening, I played Wizard of Oz with HD.  I joked with Hubs about our Superbowl plans (they're non-existent, hence the funny), and sang silly songs to CL.  I did my job as a mama, and I tried to grab fun doing it when I could.

Cabin Boy (or, "Nursery Sneak Peak")

Hubs and I have been slowly piecing together our old guest bedroom to make a space for George Harrison's arrival. With less than 2 months (and the holiday season!) to go, it's definitely still a work in progress. But here are the tidbits I can share:

-- I don't do themes when it comes to kids' rooms. Or, hell, any room. You will not see recurring cartoon character/nautical/sports team motifs. I suppose Pottery Barn kids does make a mint on folks who like that kind of thing, but I don't want to inundate my poor son with a pre-planned "here's what you must like because you are a little boy" anything. We make a room we like that's functional, and kid can make changes when he's older and has some sort of preference. Rant over.

-- Any sort of strange cobbling of a "design concept" for this room is centered around a metal kitchen cart from Ikea. Photo below. Yup, it's aqua. Yup, it's actually going to be in his room and has an actual purpose.  And yup, I'm stoked it has wheels.

-- Of course we're re-using some of HD's old stuff (crib, rocking chair, etc).  That's just non-negotiable, old fashioned, good sense.

-- So I'm obviously unenthusiastic about themed stuffs in a baby's room. This naturally made finding baby bedding a joyful and completely simple task.  Apparently anything that's not themed for little boys is either red, pastel and/or navy blue, or white. Or some combination thereof. Thank God for buying a la carte pieces and putting together our own crib "set". Going with varying patterns in grey and aqua, below is a photo glimpse at what we've got.

-- I totally purchased a bitchin' black & white baby quilt with mustaches all over it.

-- Yes, we will throw a little pirate homage into the decor. Because obviously.

Oh the Tides, They Are A-Changin' (or, "Election Day")

Am I weary of TV campaign and proposition ads?  Yes.  Am I tired of having to read everyone's political opinion and not-so-friendly discourse on Facebook?  Yes.  Do I think my vote matters?  Of course (hell, I handled my research and ballot 2 weeks ago in a fit of excitement).  Do I believe that any one proposition, candidate, or political party can provide all the answers?  Bitch, please.  I'm not that naive.

For the past 3 years, I stopped voting for myself.  I stopped thinking about what was best for my current life situation, or solely based on my own ideals.  I do more research on each candidate and ballot measure than I did for the first 9 years I was able to vote.  For the past 3 years on into the rest of my life, I vote for my children.  I vote for my daughter's right to handle her own body. I vote for my kids' civil liberties, and those of their future friends and peers.  I vote for their public education and their environment and over economic and foreign issues they will inherit long after you or I see any true progress on them.

I feel my son twitching and cartwheeling around in my gut, and I pray that I do my part to give him the best possible world to live in.  I pray that all of these kids will one day be proud of what their parents and teachers and elders have done before them.  We may have been here first, but they are going to be the ones taking care of us someday.  Don't screw it up for them.

Cabin Fever (or, "Daylight Savings Is the Death of Me")

http://instagr.am/p/Rm_Fvzsz13/

I just typed out a full 4 paragraph post on my phone, and managed to lose it before posting.

I dislike my stupid out of date phone, I heartily loathe the Blogger app, and as the you can tell from my post title, I care very little for Daylight Savings.  and on the tech-hating side is posting pics as well, hence the Instagram link (my handle is dreadpiratemama; feel free to follow).  Long story now condensed a whole hell of a lot:

-- kids ages 0-7 are dictators who don't understand sleeping in, and don't roll with schedule changes very well

-- if you love "falling back" and this whole (now mythical to me) extra hour of sleep, you may want to consider never having children

-- HD made things way harder than normal by having her first real nightmare last night...inconsolable sobbing-turning-hiccuping kind of deal where she (very weird for her) insisted on getting in Mama & Daddy's bed

-- (aside from the 1st 2 months of HD's life) Hubs & I decided long ago that co-sleeping was not the best idea for for our family...last night just drove that notion home.  being 30 weeks pregnant shoved onto 1/4 of a queen bed with a furnace-level body of a 2 year old wedged against you will do that

-- daylight savings especially sucks when you're up so early that the beautiful early morning solace of Starbucks hasn't even opened yet

-- always press "save" when you type anything on a phone that likes to turn off at random

-- passing thanks to my own parents who let me bunk up with them when I had a nightmare -- I now fully feel your pain, and totally understand why you eventually pointed me to my brother's room instead

Twilight Time (or, "Heavenly Shades of Night Are Falling")

On a typical weekday, we try really hard to eat sitting down as a family.  Since HD is a monstrous talker, it's getting pretty cool to engage her in conversation while we eat. Especially now that conversations are all about how much she loves singing Frankenstein decorations.  But I digress. We usually get supper in (thanks to ingeniously short recipes and/or pre-cooking on the weekend) around 6pm.

Then, it's our fun little 30-45 minutes of family playtime.  Running around in our study, catapulting from the ottoman to the couch. Gazing at the illustrations from Big House in the Little Woods (can't wait to read that one with HD in a few years) and reenacting the scene where Pa pretends to be a mad dog to scare his daughters. Playing with her vintage Fisher Price Little People house, just like the one I remember from my childhood. Lots of giggles, lots of attention, lots of singing. It's a great way to bond as a family and get everyone's wiggles out before bath and bed time.

And while HD's shrieks of glee don't really jive with an old Platters song, Twilight Time is my favorite part of the day.

The Kracken (or, "The Creature from Hell that We'll Refer to as Last Week")

You know those weeks when every little stupid stress in your life compounds into the perfect maelstrom?  When the normal (and normally manageable) little roadblocks pile up to the point that you're suddenly slamming into a wall rather than climbing over the rough patch?  To the point where ever your metaphors for those weeks are overly worked because your brain's been on hyperdrive for way too long?

Yup, we just came off one of them weeks.

Like I (tried to) say, if you take the following items individually, you can handle what life throws at you.  But throw them all into the same 5 day stretch, and you've got a Type A gal like myself cowering in a corner each night with a loaded bowl of ice cream as her only source of solace.  Exhibit A?  HD came down with a fever last Monday night.  Keep in mind that she's never had anything more than a cold, so her dumbass parents take a good 15 minutes to figure out the baby thermometers we had on hand.  Oh, and STILL didn't use them correctly until my lovely mother-in-law (a former nurse) showed us how 2 days later.  No other major symptoms, just massive fever spike every 4-6 hours.  HD's out from daycare the rest of the week, leaving us scrambling for care (in-laws for the win, holla!!!) and poor Hubs trying keep me from her in case she was contagious, since fevers + pregnancy are a huge no-no.  Hubs was the true hero of the week, shouldering a major burden of doc appointments, easing night sweats, and carrying around our very fussy little girl.

Oh yeah, so couple all that with the fact that Oct-Nov is the absolute worst time of year for me at work. Y'all know about benefits open enrollment season at your employer?  The period of several weeks where you can make any changes to your health benefits through your company?  Well, I'm solely responsible for making that magic happen for about 600 employees each year.  In addition to trying to plan for my upcoming maternity leave.  Being the sole benefits rep on the whole HR team, I've been trying to train some co-workers in how to keep up compliant with all federal and state benefits and leave of absence laws for the 3 months I'll be gone (starting from a level 0 knowledge base).  It's a picnic, let me tell you, especially when you already feel like the worst parent ever for not being able to help take care of your kid.

And in the midst of all this, we thought it would be super fun to try to paint the new baby's room.  Ha.  Ha ha ha.

Several doctor visits and 4 days later, we have a categorized urinary tract infection on our hands.  The good news?  Well, she wasn't contagious and we didn't have to worry about baby 2 in ute getting sick too.  Bad news?  Hubs and I felt horrendous -- frigging parents of the century for dealing with something that should be preventable.  The doc mercifully wouldn't let us beat ourselves up about it.  HD was one of the wackadoo cases that exhibit no symptoms other than fever.  Anyway, we were finally able to get her some antibiotics last weekend, and she's been her old self ever since.

Lessons learned?

• Hubs is the best partner ever (I already knew this, but it was further proof), a true champ.
• UTIs are not just for folks having lots of sex in their 20s.
• It is scary when your kid gets sick and you don't know what's up, even if you know she's going to be fine.  In 2.5 years, we've never experienced more than a cold with HD.  
• Holy crap, 2 kids sick at the same time is going to make me want to hide under the covers.  
• We're not bad parents, even when it feels that way.  We didn't idle, waiting around for HD to magically get better without seeing the doc.  But we also didn't needlessly freak out and jump to OMGhospitalnow type conclusions.  We comforted her as best we could, and it worked.  And didn't utterly ruin her tiny lady bits in the process.

Impending Second Mate (or," Thoughts on a Second Pregnancy")

Dear Readers,

My apologies for the extreme lack of summer postings.  Important things such as vacations and Breaking Bad viewing really got in the way of nighttime writing.  That, and the whole exhaustion of my first trimester of my second pregnancy.  That's right -- we're expecting a son around mid-January and HD already calls him George Harrison (no, we're not going to actually name him that).  Which means my belly?  May contain a genius Hindu rhythm guitarist.  Anyway, that about catches you up to speed!  Here are some of the thoughts that have been running around in my head about this for the past few months.

• I suppose it's because I know what to expect this time around, but I feel way more pregnant at a way earlier point this time around.  When I was only 18 weeks in (that's 4.5 months for those in a non-preggo mindset) and I was already all, "Ugh, my hips...bleh, I can't sleep...wah wah wah."  Extra whiny, which you know Hubs loves.

• Everything folks say about how you are way less uptight with a second child?  Well, it's true and it starts very early on.  I'm so much more laid back with this pregnancy.  Lifting a 27 pound child without a second thought, chowing on smoked salmon and bleu cheese dressing despite dire warnings from every pregnancy website, etc.  Sort of relieved to not be so stressed about doing everything perfectly by the book this time around.

• Not only did I apparently stain all my previous tops/dresses and not realize it til now, but I'm completely over maternity clothes very early on.  Too expensive, and/or too freaking dowdy.  I look and feel much better in regular clothes.  I'm just buying a size or two up and working it (note -- this only works with tops and dresses).  Only cheap brands or sale clothing need apply, the looser and longer the cut, the better.  I have the feeling I'll appreciate this decision more post pregnancy when I'm attempting to work off the leftover chunkiness.

• Weirdly gravitated towards purple all summer with random stuff we needed to buy.  Lilac and plum new bedding for HD's new big girl bedroom.  Bought a new bathing suit for myself in "brilliant purple."  Violet tennis dress for HD.  Grape colored tennis shoes are now in her closet.  According to my mother (a former psych nurse), schizophrenics are drawn to purple.  Not sure what that indicates about this little baby of mine, but I prefer thinking that George Harrison just thinks lots of royal thoughts.

• Are we doing a maternity photo shoot this time around?  I counter that question with another -- are you crazy?  I fall in the camp of preggos who don't love having their photo taken.  It doesn't matter how I actually look to the outside world, I feel the size of a mack truck.  Pear-shaped body, cellulite, and bags under my eyes were already my biggest body insecurities, but they're magnetized 18-fold by pregnancy.  I don't care to commemorate them for all time, even if peasant dresses and flower crowns would make me feel prettier.  Also?  This be the reason that no photos accompany this blog post.

• Babymoons?  A stupid word to be sure, but an absolute necessity.  It is so very important to spend a tiny weekend away with your spouse and just enjoy your coupledom before a baby comes. Hubs and I always regretted that we didn't do it when we were expecting HD.  We were smack-dab in the middle of buying a house (closed on the house and moved in my 6th month of pregnancy), so we talked ourselves out of it due to money.  The thing is?  Babymoons don't have to be expensive at all.  Hubs and I just spent a single night in a hotel within 3 hours from our home.  But you could do a day trip together, hit a local spa, go on a hike with a picnic. What matters is that you take the time to get away from your daily routine and go somewhere so you can interact with each other.  Hubs and I talk all the time, but it was really nice to have an evening of conversation that didn't consist of topics such as daycare payments, is HD wearing sunscreen, what's on the grocery list, blahblahblah.  Biggest lesson parents soon forget?  What's good for your marriage is ultimately VERY good for your kids.

• Finally, this was my reaction when I realized that I would be home on maternity leave in front of a TV during the entirety of March Madness.

I'll check in sooner next time with actual goings on, landlubbers.

We Set Sail on the Annum of Tempests (or, "Two Years Old")

Dearest, most dahlin HD--

You are by far the funniest, weirdest, most intelligent and independent kid I could have ever imagined.  You talk and sing non-stop, pulling out large sentences that we didn't think possible for a kid your age (e.g. "Please, Mama, can you play the Ob-la-di song?" or "Harper wants to sit on the couch and drink milk and watch Yo Gabba Gabba").  There is a strong desire in you to do many grown-up things, but then in true toddler fashion you will pull a 3-second reversal and decide to fear your own power.  Case in point?  You lovelovelove to mop (or, "mob" as you call it), but you want to be held if we bust out the dustbuster.

Daddy & Mama are taking full advantage of this as long as we can.

You are currently obsessed with the Beatles.  You have dictated that your new name is Harper-Ringo (you've always dug the drums).  Then there's Daddy-Paul, and Mama-John.  Aunt Jillean just got you the Yellow Submarine book for your birthday, and you you tote it around everywhere.  Song requests for Ob-la-di Ob-la-da, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, and I've Just Seen a Face are very prominent in car rides with you.  Where do you come from???

You love to read books, visit the zoo, and talk about The Lion King, despite the fact that you're only patient enough to sit through no more than 40 minute spurts of the movie.  Legos are your jam right now, which makes your engineer daddy proud beyond belief.  You've mastered "please" and "thank you," which makes your Southern mama proud beyond belief.

We also suspect that your drama queen antics may be your actual nature, and not just natural toddler manic behavior.  I guess only time will tell there.

You turned two this month, and we had a little family party at Golden Gate Park with just the family.  Much more your style to celebrate with a smaller group to ensure that you are constantly the center of attention.  You received a crown and wand and we dubbed you queen for the day.

Mama's not much for decorations or crafty gift wrapping/birthday crown making...but you better believe I will always cook my heart out for you!  We had muffalettas, caprese sandwiches, homemade salsa, French potato salad, and yellow and chocolate cupcakes.  You especially loved the cupcakes and we were stoked that you knew what to do with the candles this year.  You even figured out how to tear open some gifts.

Hands free cupcake eating!  Dainty pirates don't muss their hands unless plundering is required.

After that, we had a blast just running around the playground and riding the carousel.  Aunts and uncles and grandparents all looked on.  

My favorite part was when you first woke up.  Elizabeth, the fairy who lives behind the red door in your room, had left you a wonderful birthday surprise.  You had bunch of balloons hanging out on your bedroom floor, all ready for you to jump and roll in.  They were your absolute favorite part of the day.  Once we got back from your picnic and park party, you insisted on playing in them the rest of the afternoon.  They had floated on over to the guest room at that point, but who cares where they were?  BALLOONS!!!

Dahlin girl, I hope that you maintain your sense of magic, wonder, and enthusiasm as you get older.  I hope that you always work so hard to demand the things in life that you think you deserve (although, with less tears, snot, and squeals).  You have an infectious giggle and are able to make everyone around you (even strangers) smile and act goofy.  As challenging as you are, you are also the major joy in your parents' lives.  It's ok to give us a tablespoon of exasperation, since you help wash it down with so many cuddles and songs and high fives.  Love you, butterbean.

Within the Past Moon (or, "Recently")

May has been knocking the Dread Pirate household around something fierce.  It's mega allergy season, there's lots of plans & events to attend, and we've got a raging near-two-year-old on our hands.  Lots of "Noooooo!" or "This!  I mean, that!  No, this!" going on around here.  Little girl can't make up her mind 80% of the time, but dammit, it's going to be her way once she's made her decision.  And re-made it.  Throw in my new burning desire for reading biographies in bed, and the world suddenly has less time for writing.

So, we'll settle for pics of her being cute for now while I come up with some good non-terror stories to write next.  I'm behind on giving the details on the April AND May dates that Hubs and I had.  It's on the agenda, I swear.

Recent fascination with sticks as toys.  Taught her to say "wingardium leviosa!"

Contemplative.

This is HD attempting to heave me up to play with sticks,  rather than play photog.

The backyard is her favorite spot currently.

New song she requests every mealtime?  "I Wanna Hold Your Hand."  She's a big Beatles fan.

She also claims to identify most with Ringo, due to drumming and liking octopi.  I am so not even joking.

I feel like I will take this exact picture again in about 13 years time.  If Daddy = stoked, then HD = exasperated.

Ok, story time really looks more like this.

Waaaaay belated Easter pic, randomly enough.  She looks all posed any dressy and everything!

What a ham.

Ok, seriously.  My favorite person ever.

The Cap'n Finds a Beloved New Port (or, "Girls Trip to NOLA")

Oh my goodness.  I have found a new obsession.  I tend to have lots of those.  It really started two years ago this very week...the BP oil spill happened in the Gulf.  New Orleans (as well as MANY other communities) got socked with a major disaster and subsequent bureaucratic bullshit just a few years after horrendous Katrina and her aftermath.  In spring 2010 I really started paying more attention to that region, its downfall and determination to revitalize, and firm imprint on American culture.  At just about the same time, the show Treme premiered on HBO.  Now, for those of you who aren't familiar, this is a show about life in New Orleans that takes place just a few months after Katrina occurred.  It's by the same team that did The Wire, which is sort of universally known as The Greatest Television Show of All Time Even though It Was Totally Unappreciated by the Masses upon Its Air Time (it's a working subtitle).  Anyway, Hubs and I watched entirety of The Wire over the course of my pregnancy (we finished the show about 3 weeks before HD was born -- I looked at him, depressed it was actually over, and asked, "What do we do now?"  He replied, "We become parents.").  So, having a budding interest in all things Gulf and missing the brilliance of David Simon, I plunged readily into his new show.  And boy howdy, was I hooked.  Not just on the show.  But on the resilience, the beauty, the violence and madness, and the tomorrow-be-damned festive nature of New Orleans.  It was a quiet interest, mostly played out in learning more about the music and reading up on the news stories that inspired the stories on Treme.

St. Louis Cathedral, view from Jackson Square

Then, around this past new year, a group of my good girlfriends from college all decided that since 2012 is the year we all turn 30, we needed to celebrate it up big.  I talked to Hubs and he thought a long weekend away with the girls was a totally fair present for a big birthday.  He'd use frequent flyer points (from his old job) to score me a free ticket, we'd budget for lodging and hefty food/drink costs, and he'd take the kiddo for 3 whole nights and days.  Have I mentioned how much I adore that gorgeous, kind, virile, crazy-amazing, beefcake man of mine?  And can you guess where my friends and I decided to venture?  I finally got to hit the city that's piqued my curiosity for so long.  And I fanned the flames of my Type-A nature by reading both A Confederacy of Dunces and The Awakening before the trip, not to mention downloading all sorts of music from the area, everything from bounce to zydeco.  What?  I like to be culturally competent when visiting a new place :)

These girlfriends of mine?  They're something else for sure.  There were 7 of us in total, and we're an impressive bunch.  Graduate degrees,  interesting & thriving careers, scattered all about the country.  Then there's little old me, the only mama of the bunch...guaranteed none of the other girls freaked out about how grocery shopping would get done while she was away, or asked her spouse 87 times if it was really ok if she could go.  The trip was wonderful, and we had such a blast just wandering without an agenda.  My days are typically so scheduled and structured, it was such a luxury to do whatever we felt like doing.  The only plans on the agenda were dinner reservations at Mr. B's Bistro and Luke, both were excellent.  Guess which OCD mama was the one to research and make reservations?  Like music and literature prep, researching restaurants is my way of psyching myself up for a trip.  Weird side note on food?  I realized the day that I left that I at ONLY seafood the entire time.  Oysters, fish, crab, shrimp galore.  NOM.

So what did we do?  Oh you know...wandered, ate, drank, and danced!  My first night was sazeracs with my buddy Alisa at Old Absinthe House, since we were the first to arrive.  By next morning there were 4 of us, and we perused all the art and day stages of the French Quarter Festival and hit Cafe du Monde.  As the rest of the girls (women by now, I guess?) arrived at a different time later that day, we all met at Pat O'Brien's home of the hurricane.  We had a lovely time catching up and enjoying our drinks (two hurricanes later, I am pretty sure I lost my eyeglasses there...oops).  Night out at Mr. B's for supper where we were totally raucous and annoying to every other diner in our vicinity.  So it goes when you reunite old sorority sisters.  Then wandering the Quarter, dancing to street musicians.  I capped off the night at the hot dog stand, which I am sure saved me a massive hangover the next day.

The next day split the group in half.  One sect toured the Garden District, and the rest of us checked out the Festival.  Tons of fun bouncing from stage to stage.  We saw a really talented jazz band of kids age 8-13 who have been accepted to play at next year's Rose Parade.  Had a ton of fun cheering our friend Rachel on at the swing dancing stage while she boogied.  Saw the super fun Kermit Ruffins and Barbeque Swingers.  We purchased a lovely birthday hat, and had so much fun celebrating a collective birthday party as we passed around the hat and gave each girl her "turn" at being 30.  The girls were nice enough to let me take it home to HD as a souvenir.  Evening was supper at Luke (along with a couple of prom groups, so cute), then a night out on Frenchman Street at several clubs.  We were taken around by a local, the cousin of one of the girl's boyfriends.  He was nice enough to listen to all my nerdy ramblings about how I boned up on music before the trip out.

Anyway, I'll let the photos speak for themselves, in no particular order.  Laissez les bon temps roulez!

Roasted oysters and french bread at the French Quarter Festival.

My love for high five photos is deep.   Luckily, my pal Rachel is feeling it.

Pirate's Alley Bar.  Obviously my favorite stop.

It may not have been Mardi Gras, but Indians were still about.

Our fun self-made go-cups :)

Rachel and Jen T, sporting the communal birthday hat!

The next generation inherits the birthday hat.

My turn in the birthday hat. 

Big Sam playing at Blue Nile

Coffee and beignets, from Cafe du Monde (of course)

Me and Jen, loving the Carousel Bar.

Indian!!

Jen T & Jaisha line dancing in support of the band on Pirate Alley

The whole gang after an amazing supper at Luke.

Drinking Dom Perignon, courtesy of baller Jillean.  Wooo!

Jen V & me, digging into po' boys at Acme Oyster House.