Saturday, April 29, 2006

Then and Now

Happy birthday, baby girl!

April 29, 2005:

April 29, 2006:

First car ride:

First car ride in her "big girl" car seat:

Friday, April 28, 2006


Ever since we've been trying to encourage Liza to move (so that's, like, six months now) I've wanted to get her one of these:
But they take up a lot of room, and it cost more than $50 at the time. Well, they've gone on sale at the major retailers now ($43, plus shipping and tax), but I did even better ... I found it at a consignment shop. For $12.99. I am such a bargain shopper!!!! Now, if you'll excuse me, the Great Wall of Liza needs to be hosed down with disinfectant before she contracts syphilis from it. Never can tell what you're bringing home from those resale shops, you know :)

Monday, April 24, 2006

wouldn't it be nice

Recently Jason and I heard a story on NPR that included a clip of music played by a young (14?) violin virtuoso back in the 50s or 60s. That kid was just amazing, zipping up and down the scale, adding feeling to 32nd notes as if they were whole measures long. I remarked that I wish I could do anything that well. It wouldn't matter what it was - bowling, knot-tying, differential calculus - just as long as I knew I was great at it, and preferably a few other people did, too. I know that the violinist had natural talent, years of training, years of practice, and was sweating his butt off while he played, but the fact is that the kid could do something really, really well, regardless of the effort it took to get him there.

It got me thinking about my skills, and how diverse - yet shallow - they are. I have known since high school that while I'm good at a lot of things and actively bad at a few, I'm not great at anything. Many of my friends had definite areas where they excelled - Kara at math, Melissa at history, others at music or writing or art. But I got decent (but not perfect) grades in everything, liked (but didn't love) most of my subjects, and only did poorly in German class ... it made picking a college major somewhat difficult.

Even today, I'm decent at a lot of things. If you want a decent quilt, a passable drywall installation, or a dinner you wouldn't be ashamed to invite your boss to, I'm your gal. If you want a prize-winning quilt, professional-quality carpentry, or a gourmet meal, it would be best to ask someone else, because I'll screw it up somehow. My friends and family either gracefully ignore the defects in my work, or they don't know enough about the subject to point out the flaws - but I know they're there, and it bugs me sometimes. There's nothing worse than being somewhat of a perfectionist when you know that perfection is something you're historically unable to achieve. I've found that I'm much happier overlooking my faults than I am trying to keep pursuing perfection that I almost never attain - it's faster, and I get as much satisfaction out of getting a lot done good enough, as in getting one thing done exactly right. I've told Sam the Electrician that my motto tends to be, "It's not perfect, but it's done."

So I let my house get a little grungy, I don't use my seam ripper as often as I should, and I try my best to avert my eyes from the ugliest of the drywall seams in our attic ceiling. But somewhere in the back of my mind, there's a little part of me that still thinks, "Wouldn't it be nice to be that good at anything?"

new (cute) video

In which Liza investigates one of her birthday presents, which she was allowed to have early because she ripped it out of my hands in the store and started playing with it right away. This surprised me, since she wanted nothing to do with the old Fisher Price piano we tried to get her to play with over the Easter holiday. Apparently being able to "hit the puppy with the stick" on our version makes all the difference.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

As promised ... the ice cream photo

That's my cherry vanilla cone she's totally bogarting at Island Creamery on Chincoteague Island. Yesterday we tried her out on chocolate (which you're supposed to withhold from babies until they're 1, due to possible allergies - Liza was curiously unmoved by its seductiveness), I can go back to eating REAL flavors of ice cream. Like the Marsh Mud Jason ordered so that I could snitch some when Liza wasn't looking - heaven!

Mistress of Death

Last year I embarked on part two of my Ivy Eradication Campaign, which was necessitated by the previous owners ideas that English ivy, Virginia creeper and vinca were all cute little plants, even when they developed stems thicker than my thumb and took over one whole wall of the outside of the house. Eradication involved lots of crawling around on my hands and knees (while 8 and 9 months pregnant) pulling bushels of vines, then hosing down the pulled areas with Roundup. I am pleased to report that I only had to hunt down and slaughter a handful of volunteers in those areas this year - hurray for herbicides and stubbornness!

Ivy and other vicious creeping plants virtually eliminated from the front of the house, it's time to begin eliminating some of the other invasive things that neighbors seem to think are fine to use as ground cover, things like "ground ivy":

Ground ivy roots at each joint whenever it touches the soil, thus making it difficult to hand pull. Ground ivy is hard to control because you can't pull it out easily in lawns and many commercial broadleaf lawn weed killers have little or no effect on it. Preemergence herbicides do not control ground ivy, accordingly, we are left with postemergence controls.

taken from:
Translation: My wonderful next-door neighbor, who has allowed the ground ivy to take over her entire yard in lieu of a lawn, has doomed me to years of pulling this stuff out of my flower beds, lawn, and rock walls, one stupid inch-long segment at a time. Despite the web site's insistence that most herbicides don't do diddly to this stuff, I've found that liberal doses of Roundup - and I do mean liberal - manage to hold it at bay, even if they don't completely eliminate it.

What this means from a practical point of view is that, in the last year, I have gone through more than one gallon of Roundup. This week I ran out and bought a new container, and boy, am I glad I did. They've changed the applicator, changed the formula, and I've got to tell you, I like what they've done. The applicator now lets you spray continuously for about 30 seconds, rather than having to keep squirt squirt squirting ... my fingers approve of the change. And the new formula is definitely improved - some of the clover had a definite case of malaise within 45 minutes of being sprayed, and almost everything I hit is looking pretty peaked today. This stuff kicks some serious weedy ass:

I spent a couple of hours yesterday spraying anything I couldn't identify as a plant I had approved for use in the yard. Ground ivy - inundated! English ivy invading over our back fence - hosed down! Stupid spring-loaded yarrow plants that my application of last year's Roundup left unfazed - saturated! Dandelions - liberally spritzed! Bamboo that's creeping into the shady perennial garden I tried to start last year - soaked! I was cackling with glee as I sprayed toxic chemicals over any and all plants I couldn't identify ... it was so much more fun than actually weeding!

At one point I told Jason that the only way I could become a more efficient Mistress of Death is if the sucker came with a firehose attachment ... oh, what I would give for that to be available. Oh, wait, it already is:

Do you think they make one that comes as a backpack, maybe with a flamethrower attachment for those really tough jobs? Because I've got a row of yew bushes with a price on their heads at the back of my yard ...


One of the things I struggle with when it comes to writing here is making the decision about exactly how much to share. Because I spend so much time writing this blog, I don't keep a separate personal journal anywhere else. So in some ways I use this blog like a diary ... but there are things I can write in a diary that I'm not necessarily comfortable sharing with strangers, much less people who know me and might be offended if they knew exactly what I thought about things they had done or said.

So far I've erred on the side of caution, trying to make sure that I don't write anything that could offend a friend or family member (strangers, you're on your own). But that means that I have several very funny stories and sardonic comments that I can't share because I know one of the participants would be upset if they saw my reaction to the situations. In some cases I've just avoided writing altogether for a few days because I knew I would be too tempted to talk about whatever topic I'd internally declared off-limits ... or I couldn't come up with anything that was as good as I thought the forbidden topic would be.

It makes me a little uncomfortable to censor myself that way - in a lot of other areas of my life I tend to say what I think, regardless of other people's feelings. (That could be why I don't have a ton of friends ... ) But I know that face-to-face communications are easier to interpret than written ones, especially when it comes to touchy subjects. If I say something to my mother and tick her off, I can tell right away and mollify her if I choose. If I write something in my blog about something idiotic a friend said, she won't know whether I'm being serious or just going for a laugh, and I won't know if she's offended unless she comes out and tells me.

What I've been trying to do is use as a guide for how to handle the situation with at least a measure of grace. As far as Heather is concerned, anything she, her husband or her daughter says or does is up for grabs as blog material, but she's much more careful when writing about her family and friends. Apparently she offended some family members with a post a few years ago, and she's learned from her mistakes.

I think I'll learn from her mistakes, too, because I certainly don't want to piss off any of my loyal readers. Here's the deal - if I have to talk about anyone other than Jason and Liza, either I'll word the story so that even you probably won't recognize yourself in it, or I'll see if I can make it obvious that I'm lovingly teasing you, not bitching about your behavior.

If anyone has any thoughts on how they think I should handle the balancing act between full disclosure and not offending anyone unless I mean to, stick it in the comments section here. I'd love to hear from you!

Learning the lingo

Liza has recently become very vocal, talking at anything and everything. Of course, it's in some foreign language only understood by her and some Inuit woman 1000 miles from here, but it's still exciting to hear it. What really amuses me is that it's not made up of the expected "easy" sounds - ma da ba and such. She's making up her own dipthongs and leaving out most of the vowels; it sounds like she's a cross between a Kalahari bushwoman and a Dutch person eating a cracker.

Occasionally Liza finds words she especially likes, and then she applies them to every situation.
For a while last week she was stuck on making a sort of whistling "sss-T" sound, which was pretty amusing. I was almost sure I was going to have the only kid in town to learn how to whistle before learning how to talk, but she's moved on. This week she's been saying "gm-tkum," with a swallowed "g" at the beginning and a hard "t" in the middle. I have no idea what she thinks it means, but the other night we had a five minute conversation that consisted of both of us saying "gm-tkum" back and forth to each other, with various intonations. She seemed satisfied that she was getting her point across.

Blobby the wonder child

As you may recall, we've been waiting to hear whether the First Steps early intervention program would accept Liza. We've spoken with her services coordinator, who came to the house and filled in a 10-page questionnaire about what Liza can and cannot do. This included questions like, "Can she turn pages in a book?" (yes) and "Can she roll over?" (yes, but she hasn't bothered in months). Some of the questions were a little unfair, because they were things that I hadn't even thought of trying to teach her to do, like sharing. When I told Jason about that, he got a little huffy, and sat down the next weekend and taught Liza to share ... in about five minutes. I managed to convince him it wasn't necessary to call the service coordinator to correct our answer, especially since if we wanted the services, Liza had to be sufficiently delayed, not sufficiently advanced. Since then, Liza has been sharing like a maniac ... she shares when you ask her to, she shares spontaneously, she tries to share with other kids she sees in restaurants, she tries to share toys with the cats, and if you don't notice she's trying to share, she's liable to whack you with the toy, then hand it to you again. It's pretty cute, if a little painful sometimes.

Anyway, the services coordinator was sufficiently impressed with Liza's delay to have another assessor come to the house to run some tests on her. This included things like seeing how she picked up her Cheerios (pincer grip, except when she wants more than one, which is when she attempts to grab 20 of them and shove them in her mouth at the same time) and whether she would walk when I held her hands (yes, but with very little knee action, so it's still pretty zombie-esque). The assessor filled in another 10-page form, then graded it later that evening.

What this whole thing boils down to is that Liza is not sufficiently delayed to qualify for First Steps. She shows moderate delay in her motor development, but is at or above the recommended development levels in all four other areas. The assessor says that if the questionnaire was scored differently - with gross motor skills rated separately from fine motor skills - Liza probably would have qualified. Apparently her fine motor skills are really good, and it skewed the overall motor development score. Like I've been saying, she could knit you a sweater, just don't ask her to crawl across the room to reach the yarn.

Based on the delay in her gross motor skills, the assessor is writing the report to recommend that we pursue an official physical therapy assessment through our pediatrician. She thinks that a little bit of PT would go a long way toward getting Liza up off her cute chubby little butt and start running me ragged around the house. She also showed me some stuff I could do in the meantime to encourage Liza in the right direction with sitting up, etc.

I mentioned to the assessor that I thought part of the problem was my aversion to hearing Liza screaming, what with the soul-sucking it causes and all. She said I'd probably have to get over that if we were going to do the PT, because that's all about encouraging the baby to do things she doesn't really want to do. "So what you're saying is that when I go to get the PT referral from Liza's pediatrician, I'd better get a prescription from my doctor for a higher dosage of Zoloft?" "Yeah, that probably wouldn't hurt. Some earplugs might be helpful, too."

I haven't written much about this because A) it's so complicated, and B) how I feel about it is so complicated. In some ways, I was disappointed that Liza didn't qualify for First Steps. I know, it's a little sick that I'm upset my kid isn't bad enough for federal help, but at least in the First Steps program there is a set timeline for doing things, and the reassurance that I'm working with a system that's helped thousands of other parents get help for their kids. Now I'm back to being a paranoid mother, allbeit one with a recommendation from a professional that my kid get further assessment. I feel like I should feel more excited that Liza didn't qualify, but really all I feel is resigned to chasing down the appropriate help on my own. Luckily, I have some friends who have backgrounds in PT and OT, some of whom are getting help for their own children with a local PT/OT. So hopefully I'll be able to convince the doctor to write the referral, there will be space with the PT/OT lady I've had recommended to me, and she'll agree that Liza needs a little bit of a push in the right direction.

Or, even better, maybe Liza will figure this whole thing out before her 1-year doctor's appointment the first week of March. There are some signs that the idea of moving under her own power is finally starting to penetrate her brain. Before we left on vacation she was starting to reach for toys that were almost out of her reach, straining to get them and not giving up if she missed the first time. I've been encouraging her in this, telling her how close she was and trying to convince her to give it another shot. Over vacation she realized that when we change her diaper on a bed (rather than her changing table at home) there are usually lots of fascinating things she could attempt to kill herself with lying just out of reach, and she began a complicated series of Pilates/Yoga/martial arts moves to fling her prone body in the right general direction. Bad mother that I am, I purposely put the plastic grocery bags we were using for dirty diaper disposal just barely out of reach, so she would try to fling herself over that way to get them. There's nothing like plastic suffocation hazards with warnings printed on them in huge letters to motivate that kid, I'll tell you that. As cute as this was when she was on a queen-size bed, it's less cute now that we're home and she's back on her narrow changing table. This morning while Jason was changing her she apparently managed to flip all the way over onto her stomach ... luckily she was flipping toward the wall, rather than toward the 4-foot drop onto hardwood floor. But we decided it's time to move her to a more spacious (and shorter) location if she's going to keep doing her daily contortion routine, so we're changing her on the bed in her room now. I have a feeling that once she's actually mobile, I'm going to have to tackle her and change her on the floor while keeping one knee on her chest to keep her from running naked throughout the house ... she's shaping up into a streaker, this baby is.

In addition to the diaper exercises, she's shown a lot more interest in rolling over to get toys when she's on the floor. The First Steps assessor pointed out that Liza will probably never learn to sit up if we always put her in a sitting position when she's playing, so we're back to laying her down and letting her try to figure it out herself. Just today she's started actually putting her arm in the right place to try to push herself up when we roll her on her side ... she hasn't spontaneously tried to sit up yet, but at least she's making the effort to help when we tell her we're going to sit her up. She's also been a lot more tolerant of kneeling, which she would never willingly do until a few weeks ago. I've been working with her near her Adirondack chair, showing her how she can support herself with it when she's kneeling, and how she can stand up and crawl into the chair. Again, she's not doing it herself, but I can definitely see the wheels turning in that little brain, and she seems to understand that it's a good thing.

Her walking is improving - when she holds onto my fingers she'll now walk away from me, rather than walking toward me while I back up. She also sometimes lets go of my fingers and grabs onto furniture that comes near our course - the container we use to store recyclables is a favorite that's probably going to have to go live in the closet sometime soon. I swear, the kitchen and family room are filled with safe, stable objects she could grab, but she has to hone in on the unstable one filled with glass and sharp metal can edges ... it's like she's got a gift for sniffing out potential danger and then flinging herself into it headfirst. She doesn't try to walk once she's holding onto the furniture, but again, we're making progress. Yesterday she managed a pretty decent walk from the middle of the kitchen to one end of the family room, where she grabbed a side table and attempted to bite the corner off of it.

One of the questions that came up during her assessments was whether Liza follows directions (like "put the ball down") or points to things on pages in books. Again, it had never occurred to me to start teaching her how to do those things, so we've been working with them a little this week. I am particularly proud that I have now taken three different books on three different days, gone through them with her once pointing things out, and then had her (mostly) successfully point to things when I went back through it with her, even a day or two later. One book (Belly Button Book, by Sandra Boynton) has a baby hippo on every set of pages, and Liza manages to slap the "tiny hippo" almost every time, even when it's dressed up in a snowsuit. We haven't gotten to the point where she uses one finger to point - she just smacks the heck out of it with her open palm - but I'm not going to complain.

So that's the update on Liza, at least what I can think of right now. I'm going to take a break for a while - I've lost all feeling in my fingers thanks to my hideous posture in front of the computer - but there's plenty more to talk about in other areas of our life. See you soon!

Friday, April 21, 2006

Another attempt at the video thing

Since my personal website has very low limits on the file size I can post, I decided to try one of the free video hosting services. This one is a beta setup through Google, so it shouldn't come with any nasty viruses, spyware or adware, unlike some of the others that are out there. Let me know if this one works for you, or if you have problems. If the link above doesn't take you to it, you can go to and search for "lovely liza."

And just as a warning: it's 20 seconds of her crying because I wasn't fast enough picking her up after a nap. I'll try for "cute" next time, I promise!

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Woohoo! I figured out how to post video!

I can record short video clips on my camera, then download it to my personal website and link to it here. Here's the crappy trial clip:

Just click on the hyperlink on that page to get to the Quicktime video. It's not much right now, but the mind boggles at the possibilities for the future ...

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

In praise of blogrolls

While I haven't figured out how to add one to my blog's template (yet), I love the idea of blogrolls. These lists of other blogs the author finds interesting can be a gold mine, especially for people like me who spend time aimlessly browsing, looking for other interesting sites. But blogrolls are seductive ... you start down one path, and an hour later you've looked at 10 different blogs and have no idea how to get back to the one in the middle that you found most interesting. For example, today I started at, my favorite blog. Heather posted some photos there of a doll she received from another blogger, so I followed the link to her site. I wasn't super interested in her site, but I picked one of HER favorite blogs from her blogroll, and I found this:

For those of you who are too lazy to follow the link, it's an entry in a blog where the woman talks about a quilting project that went horribly, horribly wrong. I mean, I've screwed up some quilts, but this lady takes the cake. Here's her description of the project, from an earlier post:
How about the whole story in one big long run-on sentence? Make sure that when
you think you're clever and can get all
Gee's Bend with the
ubiquitous red shirt section of the thrift store that one, you buy enough shirts
because otherwise you'll run out and end up with half the front pieced with red
gingham sheet you'd picked up for the backing and two, you have a single big
enough piece of batting so you're not basting overlapping bits and pieces of
batting so they don't slide right out of your pillowcase binding and three, you
don't try to combat the 'I wanted to make something beautiful out of thrift and
all I did was make something that looks like it should be discarded at the
thriftstore' effect by attempting a very cool skinny stripe machine quilting
because if you have a sloshy, ill made pillowcased quilt it will pucker and
gather and end up a discarded ball of effort on your craft room floor.
In fact, the quilt turned out so badly that she actually printed advice to other quilters onto pieces of fabric, and then added them to the quilt. It's kind of hard to make out, but this one says "Puckering is not a design feature."

I laughed so hard I cried ... I NEVER would have thought of doing that, but it is SUCH an awesome idea. It fits right in with the "dorky homemade look" advice from Lisa Boyer, a quilter whose style I seem to be unconsciously imitating. Here's a link to her book on Amazon:

Two of my favorite pieces of advice from Lisa:
"Realize that patterns and templates are only someone’s opinion and should be
loosely translated. Personally, I’ve never thought much of a person who could
only make a triangle with three sides."

"Throw away your seam ripper and repeat after me: "Oops. Oh, no one will

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go try to find that site again so I can bookmark it, and then I have to go work on a quilt that a friend commissioned. Luckily, it doesn't involve any triangles, at least not intentionally ...

Monday, April 17, 2006

My daughter the shriner

Waiting for our flight in Louisville

In case you can't read Liza's shirt, it says "Hello, I'm your future X-Girlfriend."

I found this and many other snarky iron-on transfers at Michael's. A couple bucks for the transfer, a couple bucks for a white onesie, and I've got myself a kid that looks just as cute as if I'd spent $18 for one of the designer snarky shirts. Although I still think she needs one of these:

Jumpin' Jehoshaphat

Jason and I returned to Kentucky today, early enough in the day to be thoroughly disgusted with the state of our lawn. Jason mowed while I tried to use up the last of the two gallons of Round Up we bought last year for our Ivy Eradication Project.

I had forgotten that last spring I kept getting startled by things jumping out at me while I was weeding ... it took me forever to figure out that they weren't bugs, it was some sort of booby trapped seed pod from a weed that grows all over our yard. The slightest touch and SPROING - little spiral seed thingees shoot all over the place, as far as five or ten feet away. A few minutes of Internet searching turned up a likely culprit: Yellow Wood Sorrel.

photo credit:

Those cucumber-looking things are the (unexploded) seed pods, I think. Anyway, I found out today that the stuff is so sensitive that even spraying it with Round Up sends seeds flying every which way, so I think there's going to be a lot more spraying in my future if I want to eradicate it. And oh, yes - I WILL eradicate it. Just ask the ivy ...

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Message from the land of abysmally slow Internet connections

Happy Easter, everyone! I hope you've had as joyful of a week as our family has ... I'll tell you all about it when I get an Internet connection that isn't operating at 29.2 kbps (I wish I was joking about that ... I have to go and do a few minutes of embroidery every time I click to a new page). In the meantime, here's a precis of what we've been up to:

We flew back East last Saturday; it was the first time Liza had been in a moving vehicle without being strapped down to a seat, and boy, was she excited about that:

She was so excited to be able to look out of the window ... I'm hoping the marks from where she bonked her head repeatedly on the window won't be too noticeable in the photographs from this week. We didn't have much problem with her during the flight - she slept for a good portion of it, which was a blessing. I'm also hoping the feeling will return to the arm she was sleeping on sometime before we get home.

Anyway, one of the reasons we went to Delaware was to get Liza baptized at my parents' church:

Yes, she is wearing The Dress, although The Shoes didn't last through the whole ceremony. Luckily we didn't have to have to fish them out of the baptismal font.

On Wednesday we drove down to visit with Jason's family. Both of his sisters were home, too, so it was a full house. We went over to the beach at Chincoteague one afternoon so Liza could check out the ocean. Unfortunately it was 20 degrees cooler there than it was inland, so we weren't really dressed appropriately to spend a lot of time there.

We stayed long enough to confirm that yes, Liza does like the sand and the ocean, even when it's something like 45 degrees in the water. Later we also confirmed that she likes cherry ice cream, but those photos will have to wait for a faster connection.

Friday, April 07, 2006

Random Thoughts

Yesterday I went to buy more deodorant, and, just like the last few times I've gone shopping for this stuff, the store didn't have exactly what I wanted (Secret Soft Solid Powder Fresh, in case you were dying to know). There are an astounding number of deodorant choices at Wal-Mart, but if you want my favorite, you're out of luck. I was able to find the "soft solid" type, but only in the new "plus Olay" version that supposedly moisturizes as it de-stinkifies.

Now, there are a lot of parts of my body that could use a little extra moisture. Heels? Check. Elbows? Check. Face? Check. Underarms? Not so much. Maybe it's because I don't shave as often as I should, but underarm dryness has never been a problem for me. It makes me wonder - how decadent of a society do we live in that not only do we want to erase all trace of our natural body odor, we also want to have flawless skin in a location that 90% of people don't see anyway? And is it really that hard to use regular moisturizer in your pits? Geez, some people need to get a life.

All ranting aside, I ended up buying the "with Olay" version because it was the closest to what I wanted. So as far as their sales figures are concerned, I am indeed one of those people who should get a life.


One of the nice things about our town is that there is plenty of interesting architecture to check out. These are all from Main Street:

And here's one I'm especially proud of:

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Matt, Sybil - you have got to try this

National Spew Bodily Fluids Month - the Trilogy

April 4th, continued: I felt fairly bad all day, but din't actually get sick. I checked my weight, and was officially down by 10 pounds. By lunch time I felt well enough to eat some chicken soup, and for dinner I got a bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwich from Sonic. Not exactly standard recovery food, but I was going to smack someone if I had to eat another saltine. Jason, meanwhile, slept like the dead and turned green anytime food was mentioned. Liza was (thankfully) easy to put down for naps and bedtime.

April 5: I get sick twice in the first 45 minutes I'm awake. So much for recovery. By 11 am I feel so bad that I call the (mostly recovered) Jason at work and ask him to come home to help out. I call my doctor, only to remember that she's off on Wednesday. I decide to wait and see if the OTC drugs I've broken down and tried work before hunting up the doctor on call. They do, as do the five hours of naps I manage to take during the day. By dinner time I'm feeling fairly well, and manage to eat a grilled cheese sandwich and some soup. More to the point, I'm feeling well enough to finally get out the Chlorox and Lysol and go to town on the bathroom, our bedroom, and the kitchen.

April 6: I still feel a little rocky and have taken two naps today, but I'm definitely feeling on the mend. I decided to exorcise the demons from our bedroom - only instead of burning sage and chanting, I opened the windows, washed the sheets and vacuumed. I wish my head didn't feel like I've been trying to read in the car, but at least I've got an appetite again and I don't think I've turned green even once today. And probably the most telling sign of my recovery - I managed to go shopping at Wal-Mart without spewing on anyone or anything. Hurray!


I bought a cheap DVD for Liza today at Wal-Mart. It's called Curious Buddies: Exploring at the Beach.

Is it just my imagination, or does it sound like I've bought my baby gay porn?

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

April - National Spew Bodily Fluids Month, part deux

April 3: 3:45pm - I get sick, just like my daughter did the day before. "There, that's done with," I think as I clean out the defiled trash can in our bathroom. But apparently, the "puke once and you're better" thing only works when you're under 1 year old. I got sick or was on the toilet approximately once every hour until about 3am Tuesday. I gave up washing out the trash can, I gave up brushing my teeth ... I just reveled in the foulness that surrounded me.

April 4: Jason decides to stay home to take care of me and the baby, then promptly pukes 45 minutes later. He goes back to bed, from which he emerges blearily four hours later. I'm feeling better, but am still mostly on the Saltines and Ginger Ale diet.

Since I'm sure you're not looking forward to all of the gory details of what's been going on for the past two days, I'll present it in the form of a quiz ...

1. Number of pounds I've lost in 24 hours.
2. Number of Saltines I ate yesterday.
3. Number of Saltines that reappeared an hour later.
4. Number of times I've uttered the phrase, "Oh, God" today.
5. Approximate number of gallons of waste I got rid of, based on weight loss.
6. Number of times we tried to get Liza to bed after I had to interrupt her normal routine to run for the bathroom.
7. Approximate number of hours we finally let Liza scream because neither of us could get her to sleep and we just couldn't take the effort anymore.
8. Approximate number of times I woke up last night.
9. Price of the "Thai Smile Noodle Soup" that was the only thing I could stomach for lunch today.
10. Number of ounces of Vernors Ginger Ale currently present in the house.

A. 5.95
B. 2
C. 47
D. 0.80
E. 15
F. 8
G. 0.75
H. 108
I. 1.75
J. 4

Monday, April 03, 2006

April - National Spew Bodily Fluids Month

April 1: Liza manages to pee around her diaper while she's in her Jumperoo, completely soaking the seat, her pants, her shoes, and an 8" section of the patio underneath her. Jason returns from Italy, coughing up pieces of lung.

April 2: Liza wakes up with a little vomit on her shirt, then doesn't want to eat much breakfast. The blueberries she had for breakfast show up in the diarrhea diaper she has after her fitful morning nap. She doesn't eat much for lunch, then on the ride up to Lexington she makes that wet slapping squelching sound no parent wants to hear. I take one look at the vomit-covered disaster that the car seat has become, do a U-turn and head straight for home. Liza contentedly eats the recycled cottage cheese off of her arm and falls asleep. Jason and I roll down all the windows in the car and try not to join the pukefest. It takes 45 minutes, about half a gallon of Clorox and two loads of laundry to clean up the car seat, her clothes, our clothes, the bathtub and the tub toys that Jason decided to use despite the fact that Liza was covered in puke and poop. Liza takes a 3-hour nap and wakes up rarin' to go.

April 3: I decide to open the windows to take advantage of the warm weather. After about 45 minutes I realized that this was about the time of year last year that I had a really bad allergy attack ... just about the time that my sinuses open up like a floodgate. I grab a box of tissues, slam all the windows shut, and resign myself to the fact that I'm going to be cooped up inside for the next few days unless I want to be really uncomfortable.

Edited to add: Oh, and the cat puked on my sofa today ... again.