This is what zero degrees looks like

HOLY CRAP, it's cold.

My car wouldn't even start this morning. I almost wished (or perhaps it was winter ignorance) that my gas tank had frozen and I would have an excuse to stay home and cuddle with Ethan. It would've been nice to stay in bed where it is at least 68 degrees ---- that's 68 degrees higher than downtown Charleston temperature where I instead have to battle the bitter frost weather for two blocks walking from the parking garage to my building!

"Bundle up" is the favorite slogan of the week. Today, I am wearing my long trench winter coat on top of a turtleneck sweater on top of a long sleeve shirt... with gloves and a scarf and knee high winter socks and STILL, I am frozen. I might just break down tonight and head on to Walmart to get the most fashionable hat I could find. Or better yet, I should just grudgingly give up all sense of fashion until Spring and just perpetually wrap myself in Gortex, polypropelene and fleece until the temperature picks back up to 75. You would think this extra layer of lingering fat would help me warm up just a little...... uh, no. Useless piece of fat!

But the worst is yet to come... our friendly meteorologists are predicting tomorrow to be a snow day (only for the kids, darn it) with snowplows wrapping up the job of clearing about 3-5 inches of powder. Sounds pretty, doesn't it? Maybe if I was vacationing in the alps and sipping a nice warm cup of hot chocolate while waiting for the ski lifts to open!! In reality, it means my drive to work will be slick, arduous and LONG... seeing as some idiots can't compensate for the icy roads and insist on going 85 mph with no regard for everyone else.

So if you are reading this from sunny California or rain soaked Florida or any other warm port of call, I hate you with every frozen bone in body right now.

Birthday Photos

My creative writing juices are dry tonight... but I did want to post some shots from Ethan's birthday party last weekend. So here goes....

Where's my Boyfriend?

I read somewhere that if a couple thrives (or survives) the first year of their marriage, the chances for a successful marriage increases. Not that I think our marriage is unsuccessful. Our first year was definitely a little more arduous than most, and we had to work twice as hard to stay in the "honeymoon stage". Granted our priorities had to shift a little bit after Ethan made us a family, but I don't think either one of us took the time to re-evaluate about how we were going to keep "us".... US. Neither one of us thought romance was something we'll have to put on our never ending "to-do list".

When I'm not thinking about how to dreadfully catch up on laundry or what to fix Ethan for dinner, lately I've been reminiscing about how things were like before we get married. How exciting things were when we first started "going out"--- How my heart raced everytime someone even as much mentioned his name. How giggly I got knowing we were going to breakfast together. How often we exchanged love letters, trying to outdo each other by how many pages we could fill and how creative we could fold them. How I made up random excuses just so I could "run into" him sporadically throughout the day. How exciting it was to plan a night "out", even it meant illegally making smores and setting the backporch on fire. How he used to walk me to my door at 2am, even it was freezing temperature outside. How we stayed up all night sending text messages until one of us finally fell asleep. How shocked I was to get to my hotel room in Florence, Italy and was greeted by a dozen long-stemmed red roses for Valentines day.....

I had hoped (and still do) that the same affection, conversation and recreational companionship can carry on to exist in a marriage -- and not just during the "stage" of dating. Granted going on dates meant getting to know each other which could lead to falling in love and then eventually marriage. Why should it have to stop just because we said "we do"? I have to admit it's been hard lately -- between work, school, chores, raising Ethan, and sleep... who can find the time? Or am I just back to making excuses again?

I don't need to set the backporch on fire to feel nostalgic... and I don't need a box of fatty chocolates. I just want my "boyfriend" back.

This is a photo of me and Mike in 2003 - the very FIRST time we went out in Bosnia (not together, but with a bunch of other people). You could swear like we were together already then though!

Apples, Brats, and Coach Purses

They say "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" and there are days when that thought scares me just a tad bit.

This morning, as I was strapping Ethan in his carseat to go to "school", he pointed at the brand new portrable dvd player (that mommy and daddy got him for his 1st birthday) hanging in front of his seat and started to whine.

Me: No whining please, Ethan.
Ethan: [still pointing] didida dadi
Me: Do you want to watch a video?
Ethan: [the whining gets louder] didi!
Me: I will turn it on in a sec...
Ethan: [starts screaming] mumma deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!
Me: [scrambling to get the straps buckled] Okay! Okay! I'm turning it on! Don't be such a brat....

And as I drove to work, listening to Barney sing about manners for the hundredth time, I realized that we've been calling him a "brat" a lot lately. 100 pieces of new clothes for Christmas.... brat. New toys to clutter the living room..... brat. Portable DVD player and new DVDs to watch.... brat. I couldn't help but wonder if calling him that (even though it's only playfully) can have a negative connotation. It's not his fault we're buying him all these things... so why should he be subject to the name calling?

I, on the other hand, have a $300 coach purse sitting in the closet that hasn't even seen the light of day. It was a Christmas present from Mike, and although I love him for the thought (especially after he SWORE that he'd never spend that much money on a purse even on my deathbed), I've been trying to get him to return it or exchange for a different purse. Did I need it? Surely not. Would I have paid as much as he did for one? Hell no. Did I want one? Of course... I just want a different style. Waaaaaaa Waaaaaaaa Waaaaaa

***Brat radar going off***

I really want Ethan to grow up to be someone who doesn't feel fulfilled by stuff, who doesn't buy into the get-it-now society that constantly bombards us. I want him to live free of the pressure to be like the "cool" kids and always have the latest toys and games, to know that his real worth comes from who he is and how he treats other people. As an adult, I want him to be responsible with money and free from excessive debt. I want him to know the different between wants and needs...

But how do I teach him that while I complain about a Coach purse that I refuse to use because I WANT another purse with a different strap? I know... how about I convince Mike to return the purse and spend the money on something we really NEED... like a cleaning lady?

Doh! Don't get me started on that one....

Wake Up, Charleston!

Something really cool - that made me feel excited and nostalgic at the same time - happened on my way to work this morning... I got a call from the local radio station letting me know that they would like me and Mike to be guest DJs in their morning show this coming Friday. Of course, we had to take a rain check since Mike's out of town (although I did selfishly consider for a slight second about doing it solo, hehe). So they re-scheduled it to the 16th... so in a couple of weeks, the wrath of the "Anci and Mikic" show will be broadcasted in the Charleston metro.

I'm sure it'll be a lot different from our radio show when we were in Bosnia... but how freaken cool that we get to be on the air TOGETHER again???

Surviving the Rat Trap

What do you get when you combine a pair of overly excited rookie parents and a giant dancing beanie-baby-looking-rat? You get an overstimulated, ruffled up 1-year-old birthday boy. As soon as I walked past the stamp lady and saw the enormous mass of kids running around with tickets on their hands and parents irately yelling "It's time to go... NOW!", I seriously started to develop a migraine.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Before that, I took Ethan to the museum and let him run around their "Kid Space" where he enjoyed crawling in tunnels and diving down the slide head-first. He wasn't too keen on the ball pit though. I guess for a one year old, a 14x14 box full of balls can be a little bit scary--- there's balls flying over your head, not to mention you can't see the floor which could give you the notion that if you don't hold on to mommy... the balls will eat you up and you'll be dragged down to the black hole of balls and never come back. Poor Ethan.

After that, Mike met up with us and we collectively decided it would be a fun idea to introduce Ethan to Mr. Cheese (for some reason, I feel weird calling him Chuck..... and is "E" supposed to be his middle initial? I wonder if it stands for Edgar.) If you have never been to Chuck E Cheese, here's the most refined description I could find -- Imagine feeding 1,000 kids a pound of sugar each, a six-pack of coke, and an injection of high grade chocolate. Then, imagine releasing these kids all at once into a tightly-confined maze full of bright, flashing lights and ear-drum shattering noises from which there is no escape. Imagine these kids running from one source of light or noise to another at break neck speed while screaming at the top of their lungs... trampling anyone unfortunate enough to get in their way. Well, if you can imagine that, then multiple that image by a hundred and you get a sense of what it was like for us... On top of that, imagine being there on a Saturday night. What were we thinking????

It took us at least 20 minutes to even find an empty table. But I had no shame in standing next to a family who looked like they were about to leave anyway (you could tell because the dad looked extremely irritated and looked like he was about to lose it. I think the beer didn't help much). I looked around and saw that there were about 5 other moms trying to claim the same spot short of licking the table, but I wasn't about to back down. As soon as the dad stood up, I made eye contact and signalled "Are you leaving?" and when he nodded, I swooped right in. In that environment, I learned very quickly that you won't get anywhere if you're anything less than invasive. And ordering food? Forget about being nice! Whoever got the brilliant idea to have ONE register to ring up the food AND the tokens should be fed to wild bears. If you want to eat, you have to fight with parents who are 2 seconds from going postal if they don't get those tokens to their deliriously screaming kids. By the time I got to the counter, the poor cashier was already in tears. I tried to be as uncomplicated as I could, but with Ethan trying to grab everything on the counter, it was kinda hard to do.

While we waited for what seemed like 3 hours to get our grease-filled pizza, Ethan had a blast on every single ride in the "Toddler" section... particularly the Barney truck which he decided would be fun to ride 5 times in a row. I emphasize "Toddler" because there were times that I got annoyed at some kids who clearly were older than the toddler category, yet they continued to hog the slide and pushed the smaller kids aside. Where are their parents anyway? Probably in some corner, trying to suck down another glass of cold beer. Luckily, Ethan just either waited for his turn or played with something else.

As chaotic as it was...... surprisingly, Ethan didn't look a least bit freaked out. In fact, there were 5 birthday parties going on that night and as soon as they started to sing the birthday song, Ethan stopped in his tracks and started clapping along as if they were singing for him! He does this dance, too, where he bends his knees and sticks his butt out like he's grinding -- VERY funny to watch.

Overall, his birthday weekend went great (hopefully, we didn't traumatize him too bad). We went back to the museum the next day so Mike could enjoy it with Ethan for a bit, but the museum closed early due to "inclement weather" -- which really just meant, it's starting to snow a little bit so let's call it a day, go home and watch the football game.

In a Heartbeat....

.... my baby grew from this, 7 lbs and 19.5 inches long....



.... to this, 24 lbs and 30 inches tall.



I'm not really sure whether to be happy or to be sad. I mean, it's not like I didn't expect him to grow up at all.... I guess I just didn't expect it to happen so fast. They do say "Happy" Birthday and not "Sad" Birthday, so I should perhaps just discard the latter idea altogether. Maybe after all the tears stop...

I AM happy. It's a kind of joy that millions of other people have attempted to write about, but I think have failed to convey... because I think it's a feeling that you have to experience for yourself before you can completely understand. Mostly, I just feel relieved that we've actually survived the first year.

Imagine that --

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY ETHAN

Yummmmmmm

Realizing I'm running out of time in getting Ethan's invitations out (his party is supposed to be in a little over a week)... we took him to Picture People to have a first birthday photo taken. I figured, it's free, why not. Although it didn't turn out bad, I wasn't happy. So I set up my little makeshift studio this evening, gave Ethan a cupcake and let him have at it.

Turns out... my baby boy (turning man) loves them cupcakes.....

PS. I haven't decided on the final invitation. I hope to have it done and printed tomorrow and mailed by Friday. *sigh*

Muscles, we meet again.

Has it trully been that long? I got pregnant in April of 2005, gave birth in January 2006 and Ethan will be a year old in three days. From the day I found out we were going to have a baby, I renounced any form of exercise with flying colors. So yeah, it really has been that long. No wonder my muscles are screaming for pain... they're being re-introduced to exertion all over again (which I shamingly admit, has been long overdue).

Getting to the gym was half the battle. For months, Mike tried to convince me to "check out" the local YMCA.

Mike: Hey baby, I got us some guest passes to the "Y", we should go sometime.
Me: Are you saying I'm a fat ass and I need to go to the gym?
Mike: Scurries away to avoid confrontation and learns that suggesting a workout after I had just devoured a row of Oreos probably isn't a good idea.

My strategy to elude the notion of putting myself to work worked for a while... until one weekend when I was cleaning out my closet and realized I had to pack away more "skinny" clothes than I anticipated. Normally, I would just brush it off and use it as an excuse to shop for new clothes that "fit"... but instead I felt like a a total cow and exceedingly daft to be trying to fit back into a size 6 jeans and a size small shirt. Who was I kidding? That's when I decided that getting back a normal workout routine probably isn't such a bad idea after all.

So the week after, I went to the "Y" and signed up for the family package. I figured Mike and I could work out together on some days. They have a daycare that we could leave Ethan in for a couple of hours while we worked out... and when his ear gets better, we could all enjoy the family pool. Best part is that it's only about a five-minute drive from our house and they were open much later from when I would get home from work. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong. Even after I'd already signed us up, armed with little plastic badges and all... I still managed to make excuses. One time, I actually told Mike I couldn't go because I didn't have any work out clothes!

But I did good yesterday... I actually went to a Yoga class with Mike. I'm hoping it would be a regular thing.. we're planning on doing Pilates tonight, and there is a cardio kickboxing class I want to do on Monday nights. I'm still remarkably sore from yesterday. I didn't realize Yoga would have such an impact. Of course, I didn't exactly "take it easy" as a beginner would.. I guess I felt like I had a lot of catching up to do. I know now not to do that... but I guess if it hurts, it must be working, right?

"I don't wanna grow up"

I've come to a really scary realization today... we are in dire need to seriously start saving more money. The thought of playing grownup alone is giving me a migraine, but perhaps we have crossed the threshold of carefree living-paycheck-to-paycheck years... I'm sure it's been a while, we just never wanted to accept it.

In our defense, we have done pretty good for ourselves since getting married and having a baby. We both have steady (though extremely underpaid) jobs that pay the bills, we are blessed with two sets of generous grandparents who constantly array us with clothes and toys and all the other baby necessities, we have excellent medical coverage which leaves us with very minimal (if none at all) out-of-pocket expenses when it comes to the frequent emergency room visits and long list of prescriptions...... So yes, we've been fortunate that beyond paying for our "grown up" responsibilities, we are still able to enjoy our vices --- eating out (when we're too lazy to cook), shopping splurges and even our recent vacation to the caribbeans. And just recently... a very odd purchase of colored stacking cups that we justified as "therapeutic".

Sure, we've saved before. But it was always for a short-time goal. We set aside money for the wedding. Then that was quick and done over with. Then we set aside some money for our honeymoon, which we spent every penny of it (and then charged some). But to save just because? We're working on that... my goal is to have a couple of months worth of expenses saved up, AND also save up for our first home.

Though at this point, it's premature to entertain the idea of buying a house within the next 2 years, especially if the BIG "plan" is to move back California by April of next year. If we were to stay here in West Virginia, perhaps we could afford to buy our first home even with our current deprived salaries. Where else can you find a nice 3 bedroom house with a 2-car garage and a park for a backyard for less than $100,000? But as tempting as their real-estate market is (and while this state isn't actually a bad place to raise a family), settling here just isn't part of the "plan"... whatever that is. What we ought to do is start a separate home savings account -- only to avoid potentially feeling rich enough one day to buy a new plasma screen tv... or run off to Paris for a weekend getaway.

Hmmmmm.... that really does sound good right about now.

Wedding Photos

So I've been freelancing for a while... I shot 6 weddings last year, several engagement shoots and a few baby portraits. While I'll always favor the babies, the weddings are definitely more challenging, more time-consuming, certainly more stressful.... but I do love em. I love em for the raw emotions... all the family craziness that goes on... the details... the glowing brides... the couples in-love. It sort of lets me re-live those crazy times when I planned our wedding... :)

So here are some of the shots I took over the course of last year...

New Year, New Blog

It finally feels like winter. I just peaked through my director's window and saw the snow chomping down on the streets so I immediately changed my mind about slipping out to get a cup of capuccino --- mmm, maybe when the snow dies down a bit. I can already hear my co-workers mumbling... the "California girl" doesn't want to go out because it's too cold. Uh, yeah? I think I'll stick with the vending machine's $1.25 frapuccino, thank you. It's not exactly slow around here either but I've decided to instead spend my so-called 15-minute break writing about well.... whatever I get to.

Ethan will be turning 1 in two weeks. I cringe when I think about the fact that one year ago, I was big and pregnant and miserable. Completely dense from the hormones but thoroughly excited... and more notably, bitching about how those damn coco-butter things didn't keep me from getting those horrid stretch marks. Now, I'm stressing about birthday party invitations and praying he won't get another injury report from daycare again. Still bitching about the stretch marks though... but I learned that even laser surgery can't help my cause. I just can't believe I've lived through the year. After all those times when I second-guessed myself and thought for sure that I was going to mess hiim up. But, here we are, he's still in one piece.. and a very happy boy!

It's true what they say... they do grow up fast. Just last night, he picked up one of his toy cellphones, held it against his ear and said "ahhhh?" (which I presumed was his version of "hello"). He's learned how to climb the slide on the stair part and actually go down on the slide part instead of the other way around. He waves "hi" and "bye" and he'll even give you a kiss... if he's in the mood. He'll wear you out like you've just ran a marathon without having to leave the living room, but he hasn't quite figured out that he's starting to become too tall to run under the dining room table. He gives the BIGGEST hugs and blows the sweetest raspberries at the slightest sight of uncovered skin. He's finally content now since the move to the toddler room... where he can run around freely and everyone eats the "big kids" food. He sure is a big eater... you never have a problem feeding this boy... unless he's feeling under the weather. He'll eat anything and everything, no matter how gross it tastes as long as he sees someone else eating it. At school, the teachers sometimes call him a "bully" because he just goes for what he wants even if it means pushing other babies out of the way or snatching it right out of their hands. I'm sure he doesn't mean it maliciously... but I do pride in that he's the youngest baby in there by 2 months yet he seemed like he owned the room from day 1. Downside is, being around all those kids has made him a fly trap for viruses and infections the past couple of months. He's had at least 4 ear infections (aside from the croup, Hand Foot & Mouth, and everything else!) --- ended up getting tubes put in at 11 months, which seemingly hasn't helped too much especially after getting an infection almost immediately after the surgery. He'll let you know when he's not feeling well, though most of the time, he's happy and content as can be.

He bounces when he hears music (to the rhythm too, I might add), yet he refuses to put his hands together to clap. He does like to wave them around like a monkey... He likes to laugh and giggle -- very ticklish under the feet and under his arms. He especially loves to play hide-and-seek... if you hide under the blanket and yell for help, he will come like your keenest knight in shining armor and rescue you with a big smile. He doesn't watch too much TV, but when he does he favors the Disney's Little Einsteins (or whatever football game daddy has on). He's recently been to Disneyland and met Mickey and Pluto and Goofy -- everyone else BUT Winnie the Pooh (how ironic). He's got 7 teeth so far -- 3 on top and 4 on the bottom... and he's definitely not afraid to let you know how sharp they are. He loves taking baths, sometimes he fusses about having his ear plugs put in beforehand, but after the ordeal, he gets ecstatic splashing away and drowning his rubber duckies.

I'm sure some people don't think these are big accomplishments but... I'm telling you... it was just yesterday when Mike and I were driving to the hospital and I was thinking of getting some chinese food after they tell me it's yet another false alarm. I swear it was just yesterday...

He's Walking!

That's so 2 days ago.....

If Ethan were to start reciting the Pledge of Allegiance at 7.5 months old, you wouldn't know it until he was probably 1. That's how behind I am with my "blogging", which is a shame seeing as I have friends and family who count on my daily rants here to update them on my baby's growing up hooplas.

That's just it! It's like he's growing up so fast.... and every single day he does something so fascinating that I seem to forget (or ignore, either one) to write about yesterday or the day before's fascinating thing. I can't keep up!

So herein is a "quick" rundown... I'm not making any promises, but I intend to get better!

For so many months, it felt like Ethan didn't do much but eat, sleep and poop. But now things are different. Almost every day, I notice something new. Yesterday, I was sitting on the floor trying to introduce him to all the new "developmental" toys mommy picked up from the store, and all he wanted to do was climb right up my chest like the small monkey he is... bouncing and giggling along the way. Mostly, he just wants to stand up. He'll almost always look for your hands/arms to support him. He's gotten really good at holding onto things and even pulling himself up. But he's also getting to a point where he gets cocky and lets go, thinking he can do it by himself. Trying to be independent already??

So yesterday, my baby got in a fight (and lost) at daycare which sent him home with a bruised lip. Apparently, he was trying to pull up on one of the shelves at daycare (probably trying to reach for a toy) and hit his face when he lost his grip. I calmly shrugged it off when the daycare teacher handed me an "injury report". She even apologized and said she tried to ice his lip, but Ethan just didn't want any part of that. He just wanted to keep playing. Truthfully, I'm a little surprised he's lasted this long to get something bruised... That boy had been pulling up and lunging bravely at things, that more often his face ends up planting on the ground. His rebound is so short though, that by the time he realizes he got hurt, he's already ready to move on to better things.

Oh and as of last Sunday, he is now officially crawling forward!!!!!!! None of that scooting backwards bs... which (and I have to say this as a proud mama) was still cute especially when he unexpectedly backed himself into a corner and couldn't figure out what to do. Now, he's ALL OVER THE PLACE.. which sent me and Mike on a much needed trip to Walmart to pick up some safety gates. We were so excited, that after driving back down from Ohio for 4 hours, mommy and daddy spent hours of musical furniture in the living room (including a VERY heavy 32 inch television), trying to figure out the best set up that will give Ethan the most playroom.

This is an especially exciting milestone for him at daycare, because now he can get to the toys that he want unassisted. He doesn't have to watch the other mobile babies longingly anymore, because he's one of them now! (Hence, yesterday's shelf incident...)

Sometimes, I tease Ethan to wait until he's home or on the weekend before he does anything new. But I can't help to be selfish, can I?

A Crawling Maniac

Panic Button

The decision to place Ethan in daycare wasn't exactly unexpected. I HAD to go back to work, for finances and sanity reasons, and we would much rather have him in a childcare facility like the one he's in now instead of a home nanny. One of the biggest downfalls of daycare though is that the kids get sick with all sorts of stuff and it's so easy to pass it on. And man, that hit us hard last week... BIG TIME. Ethan had been sick before... colds, fever... he even caught the croup about a month ago. But this time, this "hands foot and mouth" disease sent me in circles searching for a panic button.

Poor thing was miserable for a little over a week. Sunday, we noticed that he was a little fussier than normal. Monday, other than the fussiness, he didn't really show anything out of the ordinary so Mike and I assumed that he was "just teething". Tuesday, he had a fever so Ic ouldn't bring him to daycare. He had also started to refuse the bottle and would only take a few ounces at a time, but still, as rookie diagosticians, we blamed it on swollen gums. By Wednesday, he was shivering with cold sweat with high fever and a blister on his finger... so daycare basically booted him out and said he couldn't come back until his fever was gone.

The worst part of it all was not being able to console Ethan. NOTHING worked. Not a bottle, not Tylenol, not the toys, not even mommy-holding-him-close-and-rocking-trick... which I thought (up to that point) always worked. He cried profusely with what sounded like severe pain, not the whining kind, and I felt guilty that I couldn't do anything to help. I feel even more guilty now because at one point,a fter waking up every hour of the night with constant crying, I actually got annoyed and yelled for him to stop. I got mad at a poor, crying baby who couldn't help that he's sick! What kind of mother am I??

The fact that Mike is temporarily rendered slightly "inoperative" when it comes to any baby duties (other than making faces) didn't help any. But in his defense, he did wake up several times during the crying spells, which (oddly) made me feel just a tad bit better knowing that I wasn't the only one losing sleep. This was definitely one of those times I realized how badly I want to be back near my family, so they could help me from going insane.

But he's all better now. Back to his usual ol' self.. and back in daycare where he'll likely catch the next strand of virus to get around. The only consolation I have is optimism that by the time he starts preschool, he should be immune from most of these common viruses and diseases... at least that's what I hope anyway.

The world makes sense again!

I found it difficult last night to fall asleep. Different "what if" scenarios kept running through my head, and somehow I knew I just had to come up with an alternative to the alternative. I thought, if they tell me my request got denied, I would just re-appeal it. But what if the appeal gets denied too? If it took about two months for the initial request to be processed, and it takes 2 months to get the appeal processed, and it gets denied again... would that mean I would be gone by Christmas? Would it mean I would have to miss Ethan's first birthday? His first word? His first steps?

Mike let me cry for a while, but he just kept repeating, It'll all be okay, I promise. He meant well I'm sure... but I thought, how could anyone promise something they don't have any control over? I wish I could've tried harder to be more optimistic.

I must've called the headquarters about 10 times this morning before I finally got someone besides a voicemail. I was so nervous I thought I was gonna puke. I told the man who answered that I was returning a call about the decision on my packet, and he put me on hold for what seemed like forever while he rustled through some papers. Finally, he came back on, and told me the most beautiful sentence I've heard in a long time.

Your request has been approved.

APPROVED. That means I don't have to go anywhere. I won't have to leave Mike. I won't have to leave Ethan. I won't have to miss any goodnights or christmases or birthdays. I won't have to fight a war halfway across the world.

He also said my orders will be revoked and that I would be put on "standby" until they re-evaluate my case August 25th of NEXT year. I could care less about that, because by April 25, 2007, I'll be officially done with my 8 year contract and they can't touch me anymore. And I'm not sad to say, that I'll never be putting this uniform on ever again.

The Call

So they finally called to "inform me about their decision". Only I missed it since they called on Friday and we were already up in Ohio for Mike's great grandma's funeral.

Which leaves me all freaked out until I can call them tomorrow morning to find out whether they decided to keep me here and send me out.

How does anyone get any sleep with that in their head anyway?

I put my baby down to sleep in his own bed tonight... and I cried. He had been sick so we've let him sleep on our bed for the past two weeks, so he needed to get used to his own bed again. Before he got sick, he had a routine. Lights off except for the light in the closet with the closet door only slightly cracked open... the mobile round up playing the Winnie the Pooh song... his lullaby cd playing in the background... goodnight kisses from mommy and daddy... and he knows it's time for bed.

But tonight I cried because I started thinking about all the goodnights I'm going to miss if they decide to send me away. I hid by the door and just watched Ethan toss and turn and look for his mommy until he fell asleep... and I quietly prayed the time wouldn't have to come when I couldn't even do that.

I don't know if I could live on if I were to be stripped away from my baby...

Sucker

So Ethan is almost 8 months old, but not ONCE have I ever taken him anywhere to be photographed "professionally". Why should I pay someone when I could do a much better job.... without their hundred dollar backdrops and props and ridiculous tendencies to over-charge for prints.

But tonight, as we entered Walmart to do a much-needed grocery shopping.. an ad caught my attention. Their regular photo package was on sale for 88 cents. 88 cents! With it came an 8x10, a 5x7, 30-some wallet sizes and others I can't recall. I normally wouldn't eve give those store studios a second look, but I figured for 88 cents.. why the hell not.

Little did I know what we were getting ourselves into. The "studio" needed a serious makeover. Their camera equipment looked like it was made in the early 80's. Their backdrops were probably just as old, and the table Ethan was to sit on looked like a cut out from a 20-year old carpet. Still, I just kept thinking... it's only 88 cents.

It was almost half an hour worth of screaming and taunting to get Ethan to crack a smile. Smile Ethan!! Look here Ethan!! Smile!! We might as well have waved our hands in the air like monkeys in heat, and that barely got him to giggle. I haven't had to work so hard to to get Ethan to take a picture, and frankly I didn't feel too bad for the woman trying to take them. After each shot, we were to view it on a 15" screen, which probably should've given me a better indication of what these shots are going to look like. Let's just say I've seen camera phones take better shots. And after a few poses, Ethan realized it was dinner time and got extremely cranky so that abruptly finished that photoshoot.

Altogether, Ethan had 5 poses, and I only meant to buy the 88 cent package with 1 pose. But Mike got suckered into buying the rest of the poses on a disc for an additional 10 bucks. The catch was.... it was on a FLOPPY. Who the hell still uses floppy disks? I told the lady if all the pictures were to be put in ONE FLOPPY DISK, the resolution can't be any good, and she insisted that if we were unsatisfied, that we could return the disk for a refund.

Uhh.. yah. I'm definitely going back to get our 10 bucks tomorrow.

The prints, we won't even get for another 3 weeks... but I certainly hope they're at least worth the 88 cents, or believe me I'll be bitching about that too.

Thing is, just hours before, Ethan already had a private shoot in our living room. My shots are so much better, don't you think? Better yet, they were free!

Exciting News

We're going on a cruise! After months and months of indecisive hours on the computer researching for THE perfect trip.. we have made up our minds. And albeit my concerns about possibly getting interrupted by a hurricane, we decided to take our long awaited vacation and venture to the Caribbean. Mike and I are super psyched! Sure, I'll be sad because it's a week away from my baby Ethan and I love him to death... but we desperately NEED this vacation.

Every once in a while, I'd catch myself trying to justify the trip by reminding everyone that we didn't go on a honeymoon last year. And it's true, but it's not the sole reason we're in DIRE need to get away just by ourselves.

I don't want to say that we're in a 'funk', because I don't think we are. I do think, however, that moving across country, having a baby, trying to maintain our work responsibilities, plus with Mike going to school... the mood hasn't exactly been "let's-get-crazy-cause we're-newlyweds" around here. But with a lot of patience, we manage. And finally... 7 days of cocktails on the sundeck, sunrises and sunsets, and well-deserved alone time.

Epiphany

I just realized something very important this morning: I'm a bit behind on something... perplexed, could be a better word to describe how I felt. I have a weekly calendar that tells me how old Ethan is at any given day and gives me tips of where his physical, mental and social development should be at his age (perks of working for an infant development program). And I looked at today's date and it fell under "Week 30", which got me a little confused.

I thought, that would mean he's 7 1/2 months already.. NOT the 6 1/2 months I've been that I'd proudly been telling everyone. Who wha huh? I'm usually to the tee with this, but somehow I missed a month in my son's life? After a couple of deep breaths and a couple of sips from my 3rd mocha frappucino (I needed a little boost this morning), I feel just a tad bit better. I sure didn't miss anything, I think I was just subconciously trying to keep him from growing too fast. But I can't help that he's a growing boy.

He's now starting to hastily kick his legs and wiggle around trying to get into a crawling position. He usually just ends up rolling all over the floor, though he is gaining some ground and just wants to explore the room. The other day, he rolled under his high chair and got stuck inbetween the legs of the chair. By the time he realized he was stuck, he started to scream. And I could've just as easily went over and scooped him out, but instead, I found myself cheering him on to get out without help. At first, he looked at me kinda funny, and then he started wiggling around and eventually got himself unstuck (no thanks to mommy). And after a consoling "Good job sweetheart"... I actually felt proud formy baby. Ethan's also developed a great sense of humor. Everyone's a regular comedian, even strangers at the airport were playing picaboo with him. He's always in the mood to play, and squeals like a little girl when he thinks something is really funny. You don't even have to do anything.. you can just look him straight in the eye and give him your biggest smile, and he will give you his biggest smile back, and then some. If you're lucky, you could get a sneak peak of the two-fers making their way out of his lower gums. Thank God they seem to have temporarily eased from damping his happy moods.

Green-eyed monsters

"How dare he?", joked my boss.

Jealous. They're alllllllll jealous.....

You would be too if your co-worker suddenly gets called by security in the middle of the day to pick up a dozen red roses sent by her husband... "just because".

Not my fault for having married one of the sweet ones :)

My Best Friend's Wedding

Unfortunately, I'm not Julia Roberts and this blog isn't about me trying to break up a friend's wedding so I could win the guy over. I've already got my guy. And this weekend, Leah got hers... officially, anyway.

It's the perfect love story. They're high school sweethearts and have been together since my boyband phase. I remember Leah shaking every time Daniel passed her by in the hallways.. I remember conspiring to break Daniel and his then-girlfriend up so that Leah could make the move... I remember when she told me they were officially dating... and I remember Leah admitting that he's "the one". I asked her how she knew for sure. After all, she hadn't really gone out with anyone else, so how did she know she wasn't missing out? But she knew. She just did. And on Saturday, it all came together like a dream.

Being in the wedding was a blast. I actually felt "pretty" in my dress... despite me bitching about not getting down to my ideal size (the oreos had a hand in that). Leah was stunning. I couldn't have picked to see anyone else in my original dress than her.

I felt bad when she got stressed, and it reminded me of how crazy my wedding day was.. but I had hoped I was able to calm her down a bit. But when she asked for some marriage advice (I was the only married one in the wedding party), I felt like I wasn't certified to give any. I kept thinking, "I'm just a rookie too!"

But the highlight of the day was when I got my first ever mother-son dance. I felt proud.

He needs a bigger bandaid

So almost 2 years ago, in the midst of our deployment in Bosnia, Mike thought it would be a fabulous idea to spend his two week vacation back home in Ohio. Any kind of vacation away from the Army bs can be promising, and his time off actually started out great, I'd say. Only on the second day, a skiing snafu sends him (sadly predictably) to the emergency room in the middle of the night. Diagnosis: Torn rotator cuff. He spent the rest of his vacation in a sling and drugged up with vicodin and everything else to keep the pain down. And I think after having gone back to Bosnia, he tried his best to stay in the sling for a while.. but didn't really do much about it after that.

Fast forward to yesterday, when he finally went under the knife for his shoulder. As an innocent bystander, it all seemed complicated to me. And I have to admit, I was a little nervous... even after Mike tried tore assure me over and over that it's an outpatient surgery and he shouldbe out of there in a couple of hours. I generally hate hospital waiting rooms, but yesterday, I hated Surgery waiting rooms even more. Those who waited ranged from supporters for the smallest outpatient surgery to major heart surgeries (picked up from converstations here and there), so everyone there just exasperatingly waited at the edge of their seats. Not to mention the numerous posters on the wall that screamed "Keep at least one family member in the waiting room AT ALL TIMES", which made me a bit uncomfortable and frankly scared to even go to the bathroom in case something happened to Mike on the table. Ethan must've known I was a little anxious, because he behaved most of the day unless he got hungry and kept himself preoccupied by cooing at everyone else around. 2 hours later, the doctor came out to talk to me and confessed that it was slightly worse than they had anticipated. They ended up having to put several permanent anchors to attach the torn tendons in his shoulder back to the bone.

As always, Mike was a trooper. Still half-sedated, dehydrated lips trembling and all.. he was wheeled into the recovery area not too long after and he was already asking for food and watching ESPN. The doctor wants to see him after 14 days, and until then, he's supposed to keep his sling on religiously (with specific instructions to take it out only for a couple of minutes a day so that it doesn't "freeze up"). They have a local anesthetic attached to his shoulder through a catheter, and with the pain meds, I'm hoping he'll be okay.

He said it!

I vaguely remember making a bet with Mike about whether Ethan's goingto say "mama" or "dada" first. Everyday, we banter back and forth and it always results in Ethan getting a confound and confused look, wondering how he got stuck with two crazy parents.

"Say mama. Say mah-muh. Say mamamamamamama", I would chant.

"No, Ethan. Say dada! Say dadadadadadadada", Mike would counter.

And it goes on and on like that. I thought.... one day, in a desperate act of self-preservation, Ethan will finally blurt out a badly garbed version just to get us to stop acting like idiots.

And last night, he said it.

He was happily playing in his exersaucer and I had just finished putting away dishes from dinner, when I heard a distinct "mumumumumumum" coming from the other side of the room. My first reaction was to look at Mike, who looked just as dumbfounded as I was (I would imagine), and then looked back at Ethan to see if he'd do it again. Sure enough! He pouted his lips together and said "mumumumumumum". I was as ecstatic as if I hit the lotto jackpot, I was literally jumping up and down (partly to gloat that he chose to say a syllable close to "mom" than close to"dad"). Never mind that he doesn't know the true meaning and application of the word "mom" any more than he knows the square root of 893.

So it technically wasn't his first word. Nonetheless, I'm flying on Cloud 9 knowing that my child has just crossed a brilliant developmental advance. It might not mean much to some, but to me, it means he's learning how to talk! It's a step up from the usual "oooooooooooo" and"aaaaaaaaaaa", and it definitely tells me that he's realizing that he has the ability to make other sounds than cooing and grunting. I knowI'm probably prematurely celebrating, but it just sounded so beautiful coming from this little guy that used to live in me, being fed through an umbilical cord.

Fun in the Bucket.... sort of.....

Lately, photographing Ethan has been a hit or miss. He hadn't been feeling good because he's teething, but this afternoon he seemed to be in a really good mood so of course... mommy dearest puts together her makeshift poor man's studio made of poster boards taped to the wall and desklamps with flood bulbs and had a little fun with the baby.

I actually had planned to have bubbles incorporated in the shots, only to find out that Mike grabbed the bubble maker but not the bubbles :) It was still fun though!

The Checkup

Ethan had his 6 month check up today. Poor thing got a little break and got only 2 shots instead of the regular five. We waited for about an hour before the doctor finally came in. Everything checked out great --- 18.7 lbs and 24 inches long... a staggering 2 lbs heavier from the last visit! The doctor gave his stamp of approval, and then desperately tried to entertain Ethan while waiting and half an hour later, the nurse came in armed with needles. By that time, Ethan had already dozed off... and instead of pissing him off then sticking him.... well, she just stuck him while he was asleep. Ethan woke up yelling, but went right back to sleep about five minutes after. What a trooper.

When You Say Nothing At All

A week ago, we were sitting in a crowded Applebees after Sunday mass waiting for our server to take our lunch order. I couldn't help but notice an old married couple, probably in their 70s, who were sitting directly across from us. The old lady casually looked around while playing with her straw swimming in a cup of what looked like lemonade. Occasionally, she would look in our direction and try to sneak a peak of Ethan, sitting contently in the stroller (he usually behaves well until we get our food). The old man, on the other hand, kept flipping back and forth through the menu, which I figured was his way to pass time since I know they have already ordered. Neither said a word to each other throughout the meal, and neither one seemed to care.

And that got me thinking..... is that how it's going to be for us in 50 years? The old lady reminded me of me, fancying people-watching... not just because it's fun, but because there ought to be something to do inbetween the beginning of the meal and the end of the meal. The old man reminded me of Mike, flipping through the menus... You can tell when he's really bored when he opens up the alcohol menu and starts pointing out the ones he's already had in his lifetime, and the ones he would like to try (he does this a lot).

Am I wrong to want to have a conversation beyond the usual banters of"How was your day?" and "What's for dinner?" ? God, I certainly hope not.

All grown up!

Ethan's sitting up! I mean, he's been sitting up for about 3 weeks now, but he's getting stronger and stronger everyday. It's an incredible milestone to witness Ethan learn how to balance on his own... sometimes, he'd even get cocky (I wonder where he got that from?) and lunge forward to grab a toy that's slightly out of reach and most often plants his face on the floor. But he doesn't seem to mind. Just yesterday, I saw him fall face first reaching for a pacifier, and I was sure he was going to let out a good cry... but he just rolled right over with a beaming smile of instant gratification as he puts the pacifier in his mouth. There's nothing like an "I got it mom!" look that makes me so proud.

He's also coming mightly close to crawling now. I made a note to his daycare "teachers" to make sure he gets a fair amount of tummy time everyday, but at night, we've been doing some exercises to teach him how to crawl and roll over. If you put him on his tummy, he would kick and kick vigorously until he gets tired and gives up. Surprisingly, actually covers some ground doing it. I have to constantly move him back to the end of the mat because I don't want him crawling on the carpet and get some rug burns. *sigh* I know, I can't protect him forever. I sometimes help him by tucking his legs under him to encourage more of a crawling position, but right now I guess he's completely content "scooting". I'd even put toys around him to reach for like his favorite banana guy, and after yelling "Go get it Ethan!" about a thousand times... he'd get frustrated and start fussing, so I just end up giving him the stupid banana guy anyway. Man, am I baby-whipped.

Mike's been encouraging Ethan to stand more too. If you hold out your hands in front of him, Ethan will take the first fingers he could grab and pull himself right up. Lately, he's been letting go of our fingers as soon as he realizes he's standing, thinking he could do it on his own (makes me a little sad that he wants to be independent so soon). "Come to daddy Ethan. Step out and come to daddy..." Mike always says. Ethan just stands there and wiggles and gives us a big ol' smile, with both legs firmly planted on the floor but obviously still lacking some control from his knees. He does love sitting in his Jumperoo though.. it gives him the illusion of standing on his own. Not to mention it gives me a little break to pick up around the house or do the dishes or stick something in the oven. Oh joy!