Moving, Remodeling, and Growing a Baby...

Well... I should clarify... the 'moving' and 'remodeling' refers to the house -- just the 'growing' part refers to the baby.  Only 65 days until our due date with darling daughter deux which is a timeline that provides elation and angst simultaneously.  Sweet, I only have 65 more days-ish until I can start recovering from this crazy neck, leg, back (and G-d knows where else) pain and hold my sweet new little bundle; but, I'm also thinking, Seriously, only 65 more days until this new flooring needs to be in so we can finish the built-ins and finally unpack all that crap in our master bedroom?  Oh, and don't even remind me that we have a door across the hall that opens up to framing and the dirt under our house because we had to completely demolish the bathroom that once resided there.  Yeah, it's all good, deep breaths...

Two Survival Tips (whilst or whilst-not pregnant) for a Mommy of a Toddler During --enter crazy life event here--  (eg. remodeling, holidays, moving, and home upheaval in general):
1. Projects
Neila and I have entered project mode. Projects that I can do while laying down are especially amazing!    Thank goodness for Pinterest because a fun and "easy" (hah!) project is just a click away.  A few of the adventures we've gotten ourselves into this month are:
-gingerbread cookie making/decorating/& partial eating (read: no actual eating of the cookies occurred, just frosting and candy);
-ornament hanging (and re-hanging and re-hanging and re-hanging and re-hanging, yet again) and, yes, I did stop myself from rearranging all of them... it was difficult, but I managed to allow all of our ornaments to reside below a 3ft height all month;
-painting holiday posters for the fridge (I swore I wouldn't be one of those parents who let their kid totally take over the space with crazy messy artwork and other five-second created nonsense, but it's just so darn cute and oh-my-goodness is she proud!)

2. Everything Toddler-Usable at Toddler-Reachable Level
I realized quickly that she has definitely entered the "I'll-do-it-myself" stage (well, half the time -- the other half it's "I-absolutely-could-never-do-that-by-myself-Mommy-do-everything" stage, which is equally as fun especially when you realize you're still spoon-feeding your three year-old at every meal... oops).  So, I've slowly be making sure to keep everything (everything!) that she could possibly ever think of playing with, at a height that she can reach (either on her own, or with her little step stool).  This has saved me, easily, a few thousand tiny little chunks of time that undoubtedly have saved my sanity. Although I'm sure my retention of that sanity would be called into question if my husband knew I was claiming to still have it... I did wander around our new neighborhood lost for two hours yesterday because I couldn't find my way home and I had forgotten to bring my phone with me... oops (didn't I already say that? #pregnancybrain).

In reflection, the new abode, new pregnancy, and new daily toddler-isms really have been super amazing.  I spend so much time reminding myself how tired and "ready" I am to move into a finished house and finished pregnancy that I'm afraid I've forgotten to sit and enjoy the parts that really are once-in-a-lifetime sweetness... baby's little kicks and rolls (and sometimes not-so-little kicks and rolls!), the fact that my first little one is so excited to have a little sister to care for that she talks to my belly in the tiniest and gentlest little voice I've ever heard, my perfect husband who lets me sleep in every single non-working day (seriously, every single one!) so I can get a few more minutes (sometimes hours!) of sleep... there are many more things to be grateful for than to complain/worry/stress/annoy others about and I needed this reminder to stop and reset my thoughts to focus on those.  The truth is I only get 65 more days to soak all of these things in before our family transforms once again... who cares if the bathroom is not done and there are stacks of boxes in our master bedroom?

Here's to a happy, joyous, and grateful new year and to us all remembering to choose which waves are worth surfing.

Take Your Daughter to Work...

day!  until she can't stand the place because you have so much work to do Day! Yay!

I've been bringing Neila around my classroom since she was only a few months old.  In the early days it was pretty easy.  She would happily sit in the bouncer for 15-20 minute stretches with 5 minute breaks here and there and, when she got a little older, she would wrap up nicely into the pocket sling and "help" me with my work.  As a two-year-old, however, she is the neediest and most independent she's ever been. It's so unpredictable!  I've been trying to put together a survival kit -- a sort of Mary Poppins bag of tricks -- that will keep her entertained in mindful activities (versus passive, staring-at-a-screen activities) while I work.  Of course, I can (and have, sshhh!) just used a cartoon for thirty minutes to keep her "busy", but I end up feeling more guilty than I would have, had I not finished my work at all; proving, by the way, that Mom Guilt trumps Work Guilt.  So, what would all the magical things in my Mary Poppins bag be?

1. Dora; the best friend.
An amazing little person who has taught Neila the phrases, "That's right" and "Let's think".  I would not include Swiper the fox who has taught the phrases "You're too late!  You'll never find it now! Hahahaha".  Not cool Swiper; I totally don't appreciate your condescending tone when I'm looking for my keys/shoes/bag/phone/InsertVeryImportantItemNameHere.  I've found, in searching for Mary Poppins bag supplies, that it can be difficult to put a cartoon character in a bag.  It is also stupidly ridiculous (for us) to pay the consumerism machine for branded junk (Did I mention "for us"? Not judging.).  Solution: paper dolls that look like Dora.  We started printing (and sketching when we're without a printer) pictures of the characters Neila loves the most. We choose to color it (or not), we cut it out ("we" means "me" here), and we carry on with awesome make-believe ("we" means "her" here; after all, the point is for me to be able to get work done).
Effort: minimal; Time Commitment: 5 minutes; Time Return: 12 minutes

2. Tree fort; the cool hang-out.
Tree forts are awesome, always have been, always will be.  You feel awesome in a tree fort because you're up in your tower looking down on everyone thinking (come on, knowing) how much cooler you are because you are at a different elevation then The Others.  For Real tree forts (in the spectrum of "fake", "kinda real", "legit", and "for real") also have some super secret element as well; I call this the you-can't-see-me-being-awesome-in-here factor.  Fitting these two elements (elevation + secrecy) into a portable tree fort is difficult to do.  Solution: chair+blanket.  Yes, going under a chair (could be a small table) does put your eye-height elevation lower than everyone else, which could feel not as awesome as higher; however, there is a really high you-can't-see-me-being-awesome-in-here factor.  I toss a blanket/jacket/scarf/poster paper over a chair and she crawls right in.  Bonus points if you are able to line up several chairs (I drape a rug over them) to make a secret tunnel.
Effort: moderate; Time Commitment: 3 minutes; Time Return: 18 minutes

3. Work; the distractor.
I always have very essential work to do: Sticking hundreds of stickers all over papers, testing the buckets of markers on the chart-paper-covered floor to make sure the ink isn't dried out, ripping up magazines and old paperwork and scattering it everywhere, picking up scattered torn paper and putting it in the bin, moving tiny things from one container to another.  The list goes on and on.  Luckily for me, these can all be done by a two-year-old.  I emphasize how important each of these tasks are and ask her very nicely if she could please help me out.
Effort: non-existant; Time Commitment: 30 seconds; Time Return: 10-30 minutes
**Word of warning -- any of these essential jobs may be abandoned by said two-year-old at any time, thus, leaving only you to complete the task.  Big risk, but a potentially big payout.

I'll continue to develop my bag of tricks for Neila's work-time entertainment.  Probably the real trick is figuring out how to get through the final weeks of each semester while not having to put in twelve hour days...

Our Four Walls (well... ten, really)

As long as I can remember, shopping has been my nemesis.  I can't remember ever really enjoying the process and now that I'm an adult (still weird), paying off debt and covering bills makes shopping even more terrible.  I don't even like going to the grocery store because I have to carry around a calculator and put things back once I get to the register.  I think I'm about to embark on the best, worst shopping experience of my life: we're shopping for a house.  Don't get me wrong, I feel so blessed to be able to even venture down this road -- a road I thought we were about ten years away from -- I'm just so excited/nervous/apprehensive/eager/EnterAdjectiveHere about making such a huge decision...  This is becoming my new mantra:

"Home is any four walls that enclose the right person."  

(Helen Rowland)

A. The laundry list.  
When Jordan and I first moved in together in 2007, we found this little one bedroom apartment in Mission Bay, San Diego.  It was super cute with a white open-beamed ceiling in the living room, which, as it turns out, was a wonderful home for the (literally) thousands of termites that fluttered down from above me while I lay snoozing on our futon one afternoon.  One.

Place number two was an awesome condo which we rented out of The Metrome in downtown San Diego. It was really close to Petco Park, so close, in fact, that you could hear the crowd before you saw the hit on TV.  Of course, in all reality, we couldn't afford cable so really you could just hear the crowd faster than our browser would update online.  We were engaged and later married while we lived in that apartment so I always remember it as being my favorite of "our places". Two.

When we relocated to San Jose we lived in an Avalon community prone to mold, crabby employees, and, the ultimate move-considering tipping point: high rent.  There was this great little pizza place across the street we used to eat at on Fridays after work, Rosie's.  We'd share an ahi-tuna salad and each order a slice of pizza.  I can't believe how much money we had then -- eating out every week!  Aaahh, life before babies.  Three.

Now we're up to 2009 and rent was dropping rapidly in the short six months we'd lived in San Jose so we moved again to a little Victorian house near the Shark Tank.  We shared the house with another couple who we're pretty sure were up to some scandalous shenanigans.  The night we first saw them washing their car at two o'clock in the morning convinced us, but really the wooden stakes they hid in the basement were weird, too.  What's up with that?  After Jordan nearly set a fire with the floor heater while babysitting our niece... did I say nearly?  After Jordan did set the place on fire, we moved to The Woods.  Four.

We lived in The Woods the longest, for sure.  It was an apartment community the size of a small town - with several pools, gyms, and playgrounds.  I loved The Woods because our darling Neila was born there. I can still remember walking with Jordan through the community at 7 in the morning, stopping every eight to ten minutes for contractions, meditating on the cherry blossom trees that would bloom again the next year on her first birthday.  Five.

Moving to Seattle (where cherry blossom trees definitely don't bloom in February) was our introduction to a two-bedroom apartment!  The first month we still slept downstairs all together in Neila's room, nervous that she would be sleeping by herself for the first time.  Turns out we had one pretty independent daughter on our hands because the first night we let her sleep alone, she slept in two hours later than normal!  It was nice to be able to roll over in the middle of the night and not have to do it at the pace of a cautious, sleep-deprived snail.  Six.

And now here we are, just five years later, in "our place" number seven: a cute little one-bedroom with ten walls, two windows, and a dining room table (no chairs, though; a story for another time).  We're sleeping in the living room on a murphy bed (my design, thankyouverymuch), eating out once a month ("Remember when we were super rich and we ate at the pizza place every Friday?!" I always say), and shopping for a house!  Seven.

B. The laundry lady.
What shopping experience of a single-income family of three would be complete if not for a fun budget (and by "fun" I mean totally ridiculous you're-never-ever-going-to-find-a-house-for-that-much; so says our real estate agent).  I'm a firm believer in just letting things work out (they always do), so I gave our real estate agent some advice that I tell my students all the time "Shut the f_ up and just do your f_'n work!"; well, that's the way it sounds in my head anyway.  The way it sounds to everyone else is "Just do your best, I know you can do it" or even sometimes "I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't think you could".  Both much nicer versions of the same thing, I think.

In reality, Jordan's on this one.  He's making appointments and scoping out listings.  At this point in our journey, MLS translates to Mental Life Suck, but I bet Jordan actually knows what it really means...  Yay, for super-amazing-awesome husbands!  I'm not sure how I would defeat the best-worst (I'll add scariest) shopping trip of my life without him!

The final month of counting in months...

Before having our first baby Jordan and I decided "We're not going to do that lame thing parents always do and talk about how old their babies are in months -- it's ridiculous.  Who can keep up with that?"  Truth be told, that's about the only thing we could keep up with at first!  Why I couldn't remember to eat lunch, but I could remember exactly how many days, hours, and minutes old our newborn was, I don't know.

Motherhood is a strange thing.  It's the first time I realized that I am not the center of the universe (yes, it took 25 years), the first time I fell deeply in love at first sight (sorry world), and the first time I discovered that I can't do it all on my own.  Our partnership as parents was natural, dare I say easy -- it was not too long before things fell right into place for us.  Remembering each moment since our darling Neila joined our family was even easier.  Now, here we are at month 23, with only two weeks and four days before we transition into describing her age in years and half-years.

Two is a milestone for Neila, but it feels like one for us, too.  She talks now and states her opinions.  (We translate and rephrase her opinions!)  She's beginning to remember parts of her day and retell events.  (Which abruptly reminded me that "That sucks!" is an inappropriate term to use in the house.)  She can count and describe things.  (As long as every color is pink and every quantity is two.)  She can prepare her room for bedtime and recall family rules.  (Using only the purple Snappi and only the pink rule: use kind hands.)  Having an easy-going, happy baby for the past 23 months and 13 days has been a luxury of which we've enjoyed every second; even though it makes me one of those lame parents, as Jordan and I transition as parents into full-on, serious toddlerhood, I hope I always remember how many months old she is.