Thankful Times a Zillion

Right now I am stuffed to the gills with delicious food from our first Thanksgiving at home. Similar to last year’s pajama Christmas, this year, as I’m about to burst with baby-ness, we decided that any trip out of town was out of the question, and spent the day just lazing around the homestead. Trent made his first turkey (on the grill, of course) and Lu and I spent the day putting together a bunch of sides. Then we made nametags for the table and pilgrim hats and headresses and glittery bonnets. It was awesome.

Trent and I both mentioned how crazy this whole day felt. Like we were pretending to be grownups, making our own big dinner and starting our own traditions. We probably won’t have another Thanksgiving at home for a while, but it was so nice to have this one, relaxing day of thanks before our lives are turned upside down. We needed it, and I’m so glad we took advantage of the opportunity.

My favorite memory from the day? Mid afternoon, I looked down in to our living room from the kitchen, and found Lulu passed out on the couch, wrapped out in blankets, a fire in the fireplace. It was quiet and warm and she succombed to the comfort of it all. It was a lovely moment.

I hope you all have as much to be thankful for this year as I do. And if this wasn’t a great year for you, I hope you still have a happy enough heart to know it will get better. And if you need some pie, we have tons of leftovers. Come on over!

A Cave of Her Own

When I was a kid, I remember going to my dad’s office all the time. I loved it there, and since he was a university professor, he had a ton of freedom and could pretty much bring us along whenever he wanted. He would walk down to the university daycare and pick me up after preschool, and the two of us would walk, hand in hand, back to his office building. We’d take the elevator up to the fourth floor, stopping at the vending machine on the way for treats, and head to his office and lab area. He had a small office, filled to the brim with books and papers and unorganized clutter. He also had a teaching lab, where graduate students would look at cell embryos and work on experiments that would be later shipped to Kennedy Space Center for launch into space. They may have been annoyed with the four-year-old running around, but they never acted like it. They’d give me candy and keep special treats in their desks. I’d draw them pictures and they’d post them proudly over their workspaces.

Eventually I’d settle in right underneath the extra desk my dad kept in his office. I’d create a path through the stacked books and papers, sometimes stacked as tall as me, and would go into my “cave,” the area underneath the desk. I decorated it with drawings and pictures, I’d read books with a flashlight and enjoy whatever special treat I’d picked from the vending machine. My dad would sit at his own desk, close by, working quietly, but always stopping if I needed help or wanted to show him something. Now my dad has risen in the ranks and no longer uses that old office. He has a fancy desk in a different building, one with a nameplate that says “Dean of Arts and Sciences” on it. But his old office is still there, shut up tight, untouched since he was promoted years ago. He claims he never had time to clean it out, and no one needed it, so there it sits. A time capsule, with my faded drawings still decorating the walls.

There are days when being a working parent is just too much for me. Days when all I want is to let Lulu sleep in, instead of forcing her awake before the sun is up. Days when I feel like I’m just missing so much. Preparing for this new baby, touring daycares and paying entrance fees, makes it worse. I start to worry and wonder, am I doing the right thing? Am I ruining them? Will they resent the fact that I worked, instead of staying home with them, making cookies and going to the zoo?

But then I have those days. Lu comes to work with me, awed by my job and my work clothes and my office. Running from desk to desk, office to office, saying hi to everyone and receiving treats. And soon enough she settles in with a special treat from the vending machine and a box of crayons, and before I know it, I look under my desk and see this:

In way more fun news, check out my new under desk decorations, care of Lulu.

When we leave, she begs to come back again. She can’t wait to spend another day at mommy’s work. And I know that these memories will always be with her, as strong as ones depicting a trip to the zoo.

I may not be doing it the way everyone else does, but I think I’m getting it right.

The Crooked Crown

This Halloween was a little bit strange, and I can’t quite put my finger on why. It’s usually one of my favorite holidays, definitely ahead of Thanksgiving, and close second to Christmas. I love dressing up, decorating the house, the excitement of the kids when they realize they are going to be gathering a crap-ton of candy, pumpkin patches and themed pictures…but this year, it was all just sort of blah for me. I think my blah-ness could be attributed to many things, the giant basketball I’m carrying around these days, the sleep I’m not getting, the fact that we spent most of Halloween day on the road, which was not very comfortable for me and the giant basketball. But whatever the reason, my grumpy mood was contagious. I pretty much had to bribe Lu to put on her costume, the one she’d spent weeks begging me to buy for her. This was the year I finally let her pick out her own getup, and I was less than pleased with her cheap, glitter shedding, itchy, Sleeping Beauty costume, but I kept telling myself this was about what she wanted, not what I wanted for her. We had about 6 pumpkins to carve, but after doing three, we left the others, totally gutted, but no faces on the outside. I drug Lu outside to take pictures, and that’s when the fit started. She didn’t want to wear her crown and her costume was itchy and she was tired and she wanted candy….blah blah blah. It was no fun.

But then I just gave up. Whatever kid, do what you want. Your costume doesn’t fit and your crown is crooked and our pumpkins are pretty lame this year and your hair is barely brushed and it’s cold…I don’t really care. Let’s just goof off, because I’m over this pressure and honestly, my back hurts and I just want chocolate.

IMG_5780

I asked her this morning what was her favorite part of Halloween.

“Trick or treating with my cousins and snuggling with you!”

And that’s what I need to try and remember. It’s not about the crooked crown or the ill-fitting costume or the lack of cute pictures…she won’t remember any of that unless I make a big deal out of it. She’ll just remember that her mom let her wear whatever she wanted for Halloween and she got to eat candy for breakfast. She’ll remember her daddy carrying her from house to house when she was too tired. And she’ll remember her cousins taking her to her first house of the night (not the fact that they whined for 20 minutes that she was too slow).

And plus, when I look back, that crooked crown is pretty darn cute.

Things That Are Awesome

Pumpkin Spice Lattes from Starbucks.
The happiness of my day depends on whether or not I obtain one of these on the way to work. Today I did not succeed in getting one. I am understandably grumpy.

Pumpkin Spice Latte

Lulu.
She is so awesome, it hurts. She says goodnight and good morning to the belly every, single day. She thinks movie night is the best idea ever. She begs for hot chocolate. She hates pants. Especially jeans. She thinks that the fact that she sang “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” loudly with her fingers in her ears is what fixed the weird clicking noise my car was making. She asks me daily if I’m happy that she fixed my car. Then she says it’s because she’s a fixer girl, but excepting cars, she can only fix small things. Her favorite music genre is currently anything that was on Broadway or has a showtune vibe. She knows all the words to “Express Yourself” by Madonna (thanks, Glee!). Last night, Trent and I decided we were both so tired that we’d all just crash in our big bed together. The conversation went like this:

Trent: I love you, girls.
Me: I love you both, too.
Lucy: I love the TV in your room.

She’s awesome.

Lulu

Voting.
I voted via mail in ballot last week, just to try it out, but everyone will get the opportunity next week. Work out those constitutional rights, people!

I Voted Sticker (Hi-Res)

The All Songs Considered 24 Hour Music Channel.
To celebrate 10 years on the air, the amazing group down at All Songs Considered created a 24 hour stream of all the music that has ever been featured on the show. Commercial-free, excepting random stories about the show throughout the years, and full of awesome tunage, this is definitely awesome.

ASC 24 Hour Music Channel

Glee’s Rocky Horror Episode.
There are so many things I loved about this particular episode (best tribute ep so far, in my opinion), but let’s stick with the fact that Uncle Jesse John Stamos did a Meatloaf song. And he KILLED IT. And his dance moves seemed mildly reminiscent of his Jesse and the Rippers days (anyone else notice the “Elvis” or when he jumps off the drumset at the end?)…truly, fantastically, awesome.

33 Weeks.
Holy. Crap. Technically at 36 weeks you’re full term. So, this baby could come in three weeks. Granted, I seriously doubt that, but you never know. Yesterday I realized that next week is November. And when it’s November, that means that I have a baby in the NEXT MONTH. I need to buy some diapers. Crap.

On Being You

Twirling

To be nobody-but-yourself — in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.

~e.e. cummings

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