I get by with a little help from my friends

We've had a lot of changes around here lately.

Moving*

Glasses

(John dressed her, although she added the tap shoes herself.)

Coming soon**



Luckily, we've also had lots of help from friends and family. This holiday season, we're thankful to have made it through everything intact to this point.


For the record, I would not recommend selling your home in a declining market, moving everything you own (knowing that you will be moving it all again within 4 months), applying for financing in a difficult credit environment, and convincing your two-year-old to wear glasses all simultaneously while in the throes of early pregnancy nausea and migraines.


(*We don't yet know where we'll end up permanently, although it will be in the vicinity of our old apartment. We're in temporary housing while we evaluate our options and will let you know when we have some idea of what we're doing.)


(**Early June 2010)

Storybook ending

Yesterday was stake conference. Evelyn and I were running late, of course, and she was begging to wear her tap shoes, so I let her. We ended up sitting in the gym: wood floor + metal chairs + tap shoes + 10 minutes late = bad combo. Two hours of toddler wrangling later, John and I were both exhausted. Maybe, he said, we should rethink our plan to have lots of children. Maybe just two. Maybe just one.

One long nap and a batch of cinnamon rolls later, we were all in a little better spirits. Evelyn wanted oatmeal for dinner, which was fine by me since there were only two servings of shepherd's pie left overs. Evelyn is very sensitive to temperature. Although she sometimes confuses whether something is "hot" versus "cold," she consistently refuses to eat anything at either extreme (ice cream and popsicles excepted, of course). I brought her the oatmeal, and it was still a little hot (i.e., not completely lukewarm and disgusting yet). So, she asked me to blow on it, which I did. I then returned it to her.

John: Is it too hot?
Evelyn: No, it's not too hot.
John: Is it warm?
Evelyn: No, it's not warm. It's not too hot. It's not warm. It's just right!

John: It's like something out of a story book.

Well said.

Boycott?

Without in any way minimizing the much more serious struggles and heroic actions of those who have gone before, I have to say that I am tired of being treated like a second-class citizen on the bus. I offer two examples.

Yesterday, Evelyn and I took the bus back from Boston. It was inexpensive, and that was its only recommending feature. Evelyn is energetic and opinionated. She is also only two years old. She is not capable of sitting perfectly quietly for 4+ hours, and she should not be expected to be able to do so. Unfortunately, this apparently means that taking her on a bus ride is practically illegal, according to the multiple people who loudly, conspicuously expressed their displeasure with her presence during the ride (E.g., "I can't believe that child is screaming AGAIN! If only the mother would DO SOMETHING instead of just sitting there. They really shouldn't expect us to put up with this.") I spent the entire time alternately trying to ignore them, trying to make sure Evelyn didn't understand what they were saying about her, and more importantly, trying to avoid vomiting due to a migraine + motion sickness. It was a fun trip.

As we prepared to disembark at 34th street and 8th avenue, one of our fellow passengers verbally assaulted me in front of all the other passengers. Using various choice words, she emphatically expressed her opinion that (1) Evelyn obviously "cannot handle" a bus trip, (2) I am a bad and irresponsible mother for bringing her on the bus, (3) I made everyone else's trip miserable, (4) I should be forced to compensate the other passengers for the harm I inflicted on them by bringing her on the bus, etc, etc, etc. No one, not one single person, gave me so much as a slight smile of encouragement during or after this tirade. I then had the distinct pleasure of carrying my 30-plus-pound toddler and two bags while pushing a stroller with a carseat in it and pulling a suitcase for over 1/2 a mile trying to find a cab. Four available cabs passed me before someone took pity on me and hailed a cab on my behalf. It was a rotten day.

Today, Evelyn and I took the bus crosstown on our way up to see the Fehlbergs. My world-class headache from yesterday had yet to leave, so I still felt pretty lousy. A few blocks in, a man asked me to hold Evelyn on my lap so he could sit down because it "wasn't right" that she be allowed to take up a seat. (And no, I was not in the seats you're supposed to vacate on request for the elderly or disabled). The gentleman next to me kindly got up instead so Evelyn could remain in her seat. I was informed again in no uncertain terms that it was wildly impolite of me to allow him to do this and that my toddler belonged on my lap if I wanted to bring her on the bus. His rudeness was somewhat mitigated by the woman next to me, who rolled her eyes and glared at him the rest of the trip.

All of which leads me to wonder whether parents are the new second-class citizens. And whether some of these old people shouldn't think long and hard about biting the hands that will feed them 20 years from now.

I think it's a hit

'

(Although I just realized I sound more excited about it than she does in this video.>)

"Two" day

Evelyn's real birthday is Monday, but for those in the area, we're celebrating tomorrow (Sunday October 4) at 11 a.m., a decision we made about 5 minutes ago, thus the late notice. We'd love to see you if you don't already have plans.

Obsession

In my years to date, I've learned that obsessive thoughts are rarely (perhaps never) interesting to anyone other than their thinker. This holds true across a wide variety of topics, including but not limited to:

-whether you look fat

-whether the boy X who sits beside you in class likes you (usually, no)

-whether it's a good idea to cyberstalk boy X (again, usually, no)

-whether boy X thinks you look fat

-whether you will get into Y school (and it's corollary, whether you will make law review)

-whether you want to marry your boyfriend

-whether your boyfriend wants to marry you

-whether you will land Z job

-whether your offer on that apartment will be accepted

-whether the seller will back out before she signs the contract

-whether you will pass the board

-whether your bathroom will be done before you move in so you don't have to live without a toilet

-whether you will be able to get pregnant

-whether you will have your baby soon

-whether you will ever experience a full night's sleep again

-whether you should go back to work

-whether your husband's company will go bankrupt

-whether your husband will lose his job

-etc.

Having obsessed over all the topics above, and many more, I speak from experience when I say that no one, including my future self, finds ramblings on these topics interesting. Not even a little bit interesting. And since my current thoughts are consumed by another list of whethers - whether we will be in contract on our apartment soon, whether the contract will close, whether we will be homeless as of November 2 - I have decided to spare you all.

In the meantime, enjoy this first preview into our family photo session from Saturday, courtesy of the very talented Kathryn.

The Reports of My Death Are Greatly Exaggerated

We will be back with new posts soon. Or in a week. Or maybe two weeks. Well, you get the idea.