you too much tv



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Birdy has taken to running around the house yelling "karate-YAH!" while air kicking.

I have no idea where she gets this.

I don't think I would do karate, and I'm reluctant to enroll her in classes where she could, in theory, learn to beat me up for putting her in time-out. It seems...worrying. Because, despite what Miyagi says, fighting is not fighting. No same same.

Plus, with her being taller than a lot of other kids her age, I don't need to give her any unfair advantages in toy, art supply, or lunch money disputes.

Perhaps, if things keep going this way, I'll have to turn into a single parent and move to China. Or send him to his auntie and uncle in Bel Air.

metamorphosis

I have some hard news to share: Birdy may be a vampire.

On the day this photo was taken, she insisted on sleeping with all the curtains shut tight so it looked very close to twilight in the house. And then, when she got up, she wanted a snack. Like anyone would do, I put her in her chair and opened the blinds.

You would have thought the sun was burning her alive the way she screamed that it was too bright. Please note the lighting in the photo--it was cloudy outside. She wouldn't calm down until I found her sunglasses; she proceeded to wear them for the next hour. In the semi-darkness.

Does this mean we have to move to Washington now?

fashion nonsense

Isn't this photo precious? Birdy, holding her puppy away from the other puppy, wearing a poufy skirt and no shirt? News flash: it's endearing when you are a toddler. After that, we wear clothes. Who failed to communicate that to Birdy?

This photo was taken a year and a half ago. Fast forward to now, and the not wearing clothes thing is wearing a little thin. Birdy has always enjoyed being in her underwear, but now that she's three and a half (gulp), I'm kind of sick of it. I didn't get to go to pilates today because SOMEONE didn't want to wear a skirt over her leggings. Now, as some of you may know, I hate it when people wear leggings as if they are pants. They aren't pants. They are underwear. However, all of the women at the college where we live failed to get that memo, and I live daily with women in leggings acting as if they are pants. So this issue? With the leggings and no skirt? It's the hill I decided to die on today. And die I did.

I gave her the option of a dress or a skirt, but none were "comfy" enough. And pants were an automatic no, as all pants are not comfy, unless they are one of the two pairs of Children's Place yoga pants we inherited from the Mak Attack . So after a 2 time outs and much weeping and gnashing of teeth, Birdy decided to compromise and put on bicycle shorts over the leggings. She better get this out of her system now, because no one wants to be friends with the 12 year-old wearing leggings and bicycle shorts.

Though, that would save me from carpooling her friends around...

I've been thinking about that movie Knocked Up.

I first saw Knocked Up when I was barely pregnant. I was still wondering who was going to be my doctor, as my current doctor was also pregnant and would not be around when I was to be delivering the current blob of cells residing in my uterus. So I went to see Knocked Up with my friend Anita, as something fun to do, as I realized my propensity of being able to do fun things planned just an hour before was slipping, like the days of our lives, through the hourglass of time. Depressing, no? But that is how it was in my mind.

So, I went to see Knocked Up with Anita and it was funny, and it didn't make think about things like plot, or denouement, or if some demon was going to be coming though the door to eat someone's soul. It was just a good time. And then we saw our professor sitting two rows ahead with some other guy. We talked about throwing popcorn at his head to get his attention, but for some reason decided against it. At the end of the movie, we went over and said hi and met the friend, who happened to be a doctor. A doctor I was thinking about having as my doctor. For the blob of cells. I realized immidiately I could not have this person who I met socially at a movie about people getting knocked up be my doctor for the time I was knocked up. It simply couldn't happen.

So anyway.

The main reason I was thinking about Kocked Up recently was because of the scene where Paul Rudd is talking to Seth Rogan, while Paul's kids are playing. Paul is talking about how he wishes he was excited for anything as much as his kids were excited about bubbles. And, how their enjoyment just pointed our your inability to enjoy anything. And wow, isn't that true?

What do I (or you) like as much as my daughter likes bubbles? Or the swing? Or slides? Or counting to four (technically, she says 1, 2, 3, 8) and running to me to get a hug?

I mean, I like a lot of things. I like sitting at the table when everyone is either asleep or gone and reading a book. I like baking. I like seeing friends. I like it when it's windy enough for the leaves to move in trees. I like airplanes. I like coffee. But none of those things will get me running around and laughing like a hyena like anything Birdy likes.

Where did she learn to enjoy things like that? And when did we forget?

these two

These guys, let me tell you. They are thick as thieves When we were in Washington, Birdy would look forward to when Grampa would come home--seriously, it was the highlight of her day. When Grandpa was around, no one pushed the swing as well, no one had better shoulders for sitting on, no one made weird enough noises. It was great seeing the two of them become friends, and it's only a matter of time before they start ganging up on me like we did to my mom.

i really hate this toy

This toy is sucking my will to live while simultaniously feeding Bridy's dance fever.

birdy's bookshelf

Birdy loves a good naptime or bedtime story. These are the current favorites...what were yours as a kid?

a year ago...

...Birdy was still a baby. Luckily, she continues to love bath time.

a portrait of the artist with crayons

Birdy got an awesome easel for Christmas from Brandon's parents. And by awesome, I mean something that I would have l-o-v-e-d as a kid, considering one of my most prized possessions was my 96 color Crayola crayon set. I did have some last minute doubts as Brandon's dad and I were assembling the easel the night before we had Christmas with them--what if she liked the wrapping paper more than this gift?

But my fears were unfounded, as the little lady spends about 30 minutes each day coloring, painting or chalking. Or rearranging her crayons. Or trying to use crayons on the white board. Or clap her eraser on me. Or sheepishly eat the paint. Or whatever it is that she does while I'm making dinner in the vacinity of the easel.

Either way, she loves it, and that warms my crayon-loving heart.

sometimes, we don't want to sleep alone

And sometimes, we have so much company its hard to sleep anyway.

cooooooooooooookie!

We've been over at the student union building a few times this week, and thankfully I didn't have any cash on me. Why? Because a student group was selling cupcakes that looked like Sesame Street characters. And they were adorable. And Birdy loves Sesame Street. And I love cupcakes.

But I didn't, and it was just yesterday that Brandon brought home a Cookie Monster cupcake, which took him about 3 days longer than I thought it would. He has a way of spoiling her, you see, that can go from 0 to 492 in about .3 seconds.

The following is a public service announcment: cupcakes in the afternoon are not recommended by the surgeon general for those under 5. If you've done it, you'll know why.

in which we make a 'wich

My best good friend Brianna gave Birdy a sandwich making set from Melissa & Doug, which I very well many marry. We play sandwich shop everyday, and wanted to share it with you.

check out the baby!

Please to enjoy Birdy, the cutest baby in the entire universe.

a smattering of newsiness

First, I apologize for the infrequency of updates. I have no real excuse except that it doesn't feel like anything that is happening is worth writing about, and second I am so tired recently that I'm sleeping if I don't have to do anything pressing. I know, I know. Lame. I admit it. So here is a little about what we have been up to recentlyish.


I put a photo of Birdy rocking out to Guitar Hero when my parents were visiting in October, and my best good friend Brianna made an acutal poster of it, which is cool.

She's just so famous! And cute. Soooooo cute.

We have parents coming to visit soon--Brandon's this Saturday and mine next month. I'm looking forward to seeing them and spending time with them again.

I don't feel like I'm home yet here, and I don't know why. It seems to be taking a lot longer than I thought it would be. It's beautiful and the people are nice and Brandon and Birdy are here. But...but. But it still isn't what I think of when I think of home. Maybe it would be better if our extended family were here, and maybe it will be better in a few months. I just wish it felt that way now, especially because it's Christmas.

One of the perks of this university is that they have a cleaning crew come in twice a year to shampoo carpets and clean the bathrooms and kitchens. For that, I love them. And our carpet needs it. I fear waking up in the morning to bare floors due to carpet mutiny. I'm blaming their current state on Birdy. It's always Birdy's fault because she can't say otherwise yet. :-) The cleaning crew is coming in on Friday, right in time for Brandon's parents to come and visit.

Holiday baking and eating has made it's home here, and boy am I feeling it. Luckily, we're joining the local YMCA and I'll be able to work out again since they have child care, and there is a Masters swimming program, so I can swim too.

What about you all? What is happening in your lives? We miss you tons down here!

fun at natural bridges state beach

walkabouts

To begin, on the news right now, a man named Raccoon is being interviewed. He is very clearly homosexual. He has a coon skin cap, a festive scarf, and large glasses. Toto, I'm not in Eastern Washington anymore.

Secondly, I've become a bit of a walker.

It all started a few weeks ago when Nicole (who is my first peep here) and I took an innocent walk to the park near by. Then we walked to the rose garden. Then we walked to the library. Then we walked to an awesome bakery. The bakery trip was today, and it was awesome. It's called Greenlee's, and seems to be a landmark here in San Jose. I had a chorizo breakfast burrito, and it was so good I nearly saw Jesus and/or a majestic unicorn. It was faint vision due to my eyes rolling back into my head, so it was hard to be sure. But be sure that if you come and visit, I'm taking you.

Nicole also has a daughter, who is just the bee's knees. She's just a bitty baby--5 months old. Birdy is becoming a big fan of her too, which has proven to be adorable. Yesterday, Birdy gave Nicole's baby a hug and a kiss. Adorable.

I do have some new photos to put up, I just have to get them off the camera. As many of us know, that camera might as well be on the moon with the frequency with which photos are transferred to my computer, so be patient grasshoppers.

don't forget ___________.

I am bad at remembering. Really bad.

I try, I really do. But I end up forgetting things, like birthdays, anniversaries, brushing my teeth at night, what I was doing two years ago, what life was like in college, and what exactly it was I did yesterday.The thing is, I didn't always used to be so bad at remembering. There was a time when you could count on me to remember even the most mundane stuff. Stuff that happened years ago that no one else remembered. But then, for some reason I still don't understand, I stopped.

I can, however, tell you the exact time when I realized that I do have a problem with it, though. In college, my roommate and best friend was having some weird health stuff going on. We weren't sure what was happening, and neither were her doctors. They gave her a list of potential problems, and one of them was cancer. It was scary.

But you know what? I forgot about it. I forgot until she mentioned something about a year or so ago, like "blah blah blah when we thought I might have cancer blah blah blah." I did a double take on the phone, thinking, what? Cancer? When did we think you might have had cancer? And she patiently (though she was understandably a little annoyed) reminded me of the time during my sophomore year. You know, when we were living together? In a small space? And we knew pretty much everything about each other? That time? Remember?

And I didn't.

And that seemed very, very wrong to me.

And since then, I've been trying to make a conscious effort to stamp things in my brain. This blog, for one, was created to help me remember things that were happening in my life in a time when I could feel my brain slowing slipping out of my body. I think the weight I gained during pregnancy (which is still here, by the by) was pushing it out my ears. Just a theory. Anyway.

There are things that I remember about Birdy, and somethings that I think of each day so that they stay fresh in my mind. I remember sitting up with her when she was a few weeks old at four in the morning. It was quiet. The novelty of a sweet baby had worn off a bit, as they tend to wake up numerous times in the night wanting food, so I had stopped simply staring at her in amazement a few days before this. I was reading Anne of Green Gables in the lamplight, holding Birdy snugly to my side as she slowly nursed. It was peaceful. It was awesome. It made me feel like an honest-to-God mom. It is something that I hope to remember when she's a snotty teenager (as I'm sure she will be), when she's having her first baby, when she turns 40, 50, and 60. And I hope that I feel the same way about that memory then as I do now.

In the meantime, I plan on trying to remember her like that when she is throwing her snack on to the floor, flinging herself on the the floor, and grinding Cheerios into the floor (and sometimes doing all three at the same time).

And what about you? What do you try to remember?

home again, home again

Hello everyone!

(awesome side note: I am watching the best show I've seen in a long time...Modern Family. Watch it. Love it.)

I am back in the land of sun, sand, and people who's tuition is higher than any salary I'm going to making any time soon. But I digress--The point of this post to share about the fund times we had on vacation! In typical Heather fashion, however, I neglected to take any photos. No fear though, loyal readers--I've got Paint and some free time. Trust me, it will be just like you were there.

The first weekend, Birdy and I went to Pullman. Our first stop was Casa de Cory, to help celebrate Anita's last weekend being a certain age and to celebrate her becoming a slightly different age. We went to pick flowers for the par-tay, and no one got stung, bit, or maimed in any other way.

We also stopped by financial aid to visit the old comrades and enjoy a potluck. We ended up staying longer than we planned, but there were too many people to catch up with. We had great cornbread, chili, and of course Kathy's little smokies. A potluck isn't a potluck without some smokies.

Birdy and I also spent a few nights with Randi and Jason, the most chill peeps I know. They also hosted a get together. There was beer and awesome Costco hotdogs. We spent a lot of time on the porch smoking a cigar and having Jason call us silly girls. It was just like old times!

April and Anita and Birdy and I also watched I Love You, Man. This photo is of April and and I shredding some air guitar to Rush. Believe me, it was as awesome as it looked.

so hot in herrrrrrrr

Hello, this blog comes straight to you from Satan's Armpit, population me. It's super freaking hot here, and the fact that the apartment is 76 degrees at 9:45 at night and it feels super cool and comfy should tell you how hot it was today. Ugh. My productivity gets shockingly low when it's hot. The house is a mess. Am I trying to fix it?

No. Most definitely not. It was hot today, remember? Everyone knows that really hot days are a free pass for any and all domestic activities. It's like a snow day for adults. Thus, in the spirit of Adult Snow Day, I am sitting on the couch drinking a cold beverage of choice and watching Hayden Panettiere in her magnum opus, Bring It On: All or Nothing. It's just so inspiring, you know? And, it's one of E!'s "Movies We Love," and we all know that E! knows movies. Or. knows movies with low syndication rates. Either one.

Birdy and I head out into the wild blue yonder on Tuesday, and I'm already preparing myself mentally. The idea of Birdy sitting on my lap happily for three minutes is something that happens regularly. The reality of Birdy sitting on my lap for two hours is yet unproven. I've purchased several items for the trip in hopes of entertaining her: 1,000 stickers, tiny cans of Play-Doh, a new coloring book, a crazy amount of snacks, and one or two books. I've figured I have 120 1-minute segments I need to fill.

In a perfect world, some of them will be filled with her sleeping. Or maybe the plane won't be full and I'll be able to put her in her own seat with her own car seat. And then maybe, it'll be a frosty day in Hell.

Hey, pop question for parents: when you check a car seat, do they give you one of those bags to put it in? If not, where do they sell such things? And can you think of anything else I can bring to fill my 120 1-minute segments?

time keeps slippin'

First: look at that sweet girl. We were at the beach here for the first time. She's wearing the dress Ben got her from Hawaii, which we felt was only appropriate for an ocean adventure.

Second: You might have heard that I made Brandon read The Host. So far, he says it "isn't bad." Now, in his world, that could mean the greatest thing he has read, or it could mean "it's better than a swift kick in the nuts." For an example of his highest praise that I have received, please read this.

Also note that I have made lesser men faint dead away when eating my chicken tacos.

In The Host, our heroine Wanderer (and why is it so close to heroin? Am I ignorant on it's etymology? Are we women heroes so addicting [like my chicken tacos, but I digress from digressing] that we make men die? Really?), makes comments on not knowing how much time you have left to live your life. And frankly, the thought both scares the dickens out of me and also calms me. It scares me because I've never felt that I will be able to love Birdy as long and as well as I hope. Ever since I fell in love with her (which is different from when she was conceived or when she was born, but that is a different story for a different time), I've never had the sense that I would be with her for very long. Objectively I know she'll grow up, go to college or whatever, have a family, and live her life well. That being said, I don't see myself sharing that with her. I feel like something is going to happen to me so that I can't be a part of those experiences with her.

Let's be clear: I don't see me taking myself out of the picture, if you get my drift. I'm simply not there. I don't know where I am, but I'm not with Birdy, which makes me sad.

Is that weird? It makes everyday things so desperate for me. I just walked through her bedroom and picked her up, wondering to myself "how many more chances will I have to hug her?" And when I was hugging her, I almost cried.

Ugh. How morbid.

So I pose this question to you, whether you are a mother or a father, or a lover of another thing that will die: do you feel this way about things? This odd sense of urgency and protectiveness?

Or, does this just mean that for once in my life I have found something that I would gladly give my life for?

Or, is it just 11:30 and the fact that I've been up for 16 and half hours going at full speed?

Personally, I'm caught between the two, but leaning more toward the latter.