It will be great.

A thought on things, chickens, after a lovely weekend (heads up: any weekend is a good weekend, especially when it involves fish tacos + ribs + my adorable baby).

This came to me a couple of days ago, and I sort of threw it aside, but I think it’s worth sharing.

Once upon a time, when JW and I were 23 (well, I was 23- that rascal was probably only 22), he moved to my beloved Chicago from Grand Rapids.

Prior to this we had been dating long distance for six months or so, and prior to that, we’d been pretending we wouldn’t end up together for all time for the past four years or so.

Anyway.

When JW moved here, we were obviously both super excited and also terrified, because sure it was fun to get together and go out to dinner and hang out in bars for lovely, too-fast weekends, but what would it be like when we actually lived in the same place?

Gulp, we thought.

It turned out to still be great, after working out a few kinks (kinks are part of the whole thing, though), and as we relaxed our stringent rules about how often we could see each other and for how long (let’s be honest, he was basically my third roommate by the end of the summer), we started to talk about moving in together.

We were babies.

I don’t recommend this for everyone, but we lucked out, so basically, do what you think feels right, chickadees. The worst that can happen is that you’re wrong, and I’m wrong about something at least once a day. It’s not so bad.

Anyway, we started to talk about all of the weird, seemingly boring things that we could do when we lived together, like laundry and grocery shopping and laying on the floor doing nothing.

We should do laundry on Wednesdays, JW said seriously. It’ll be great.

I laughed, because that’s always what I do when JW gets serious.

I tucked that away, and we moved in together and did laundry basically never because we were still children who couldn’t manage to do more than make it to work on time and eat a lot of chicken wings at Mystic Celt.

Fast forward one hundred years until right now.

Or a few Wednesdays ago, anyway.

I got home from work, kissed my husband and my baby, and we ate dinner and hung out and then JW threw in some laundry.

And in that small, actually-sort-of-irritating move (because now there was laundry to fold), I couldn’t help but think about all those years ago and all those things that seemed not-too-exciting but actually help to make up the thread of a life that I love so very much.

And you know what, chicks?

He was right.

It is pretty great.

 

 

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a walk on the ocean

What a crazy week this is shaping up to be, chickens.

Before I get swallowed up by it, I thought I’d make you privy to a few things going on around here:

1. My sister, her pals, and various family members are rolling into town for Theo’s christening this weekend. We’re also hosting a shower for my baby sis, and doing a bachelorette party in her honor.

Pray for me, chickadees. I’m mostly excited to have four days off in a row filled with family and visitors, but I’m also concerned I’ll be running on empty by the time we get to Boo’s festivities.

I cannot be hungover in pictures of my baby’s christening.

That’s my mantra.

2. Last night, JC, Ky and I headed to Ravinia to see Toad the Wet Sprocket and Counting Crows, r as I like to call it, a 90s delight. Generally, we have a lovely spread of food and cocktails, but the three of us headed in from separate directions, which meant the following things happened: I missed a train and brought warm, 7-11 wine, JC had to park at the botanical gardens and came bearing baguettes, and Ky staked out a spot and hung by herself for over an hour.

We toasted to the miraculous fact that we all managed to get there before the concert started, and then put fruit in my 7-11 wine to make it slightly more acceptable.

I couldn’t ask for better friends.

3.  Because I was headed to Ravinia last night, I was schlepping around a different pump that had a battery pack (yes, I sometimes have to pump in bathroom stalls, it’s just my new glamorous life) and I had a malfunction of some kind early in the day.

I have no further details on how it happened, but basically, I’ve injured my shoulder in an attempt to produce food for my son.

I’m not sure if this is hysterical or horrifying.

It probably depends on who you’re talking to.

And with that, I’m off to finish this day of working-from-home and get on the road to hang with some clients in Rosemont tonight, because this week just won’t quite.

Enjoy the sunshine, chicks!

 

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Filed under Chicago, Did I really do that?, Good times

rolling into chaos

Chickens, it’s Friday.

And sunny.

And  I’m typing with a wiggly, wobbly four-month old in my lap.

And listening to a song called “Hot Dog.”

It’s a good life.

Photo on 2014-07-11 at 07.18 #3

Here’s a strange, washed out photo of Theo and I, trying to figure out if Photobooth is something that might be more fun with a baby.

Spoiler alert: almost everything is more fun with a baby.

Now if only he could help me with my photo settings so we don’t look so ghostly.

Up this weekend: Boo’s first trip to Ravinia (a double header, because that’s how we roll, you know, a little bit on the crazy side), more visitors in town, finally fitting in some yoga, and getting ready for next week, which is an epic weddingshowerbachelorettepartytheoschristening kind of party.

We’re so excited to see how many good things we can jam into one weekend.

My guess is: all of them.

Enjoy this sunshine, if you’ve got it, chickadees, and enjoy the weekend headed swiftly in your direction.

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well you’re never gonna get it.

Morning, chickens!

Two days in a row.

Progress.

I’m feeling pretty bullish about this day, mostly because I woke up this morning, rolled over, and realized that it was after 5am.

And Theo hadn’t woken me up all night.

This is the face of a baby who’s slept through the night.

photo (7)

Love you too, Boo.

I’ve been waiting for T to make it through the night for real for some time now.

In crazy baby book land, sleeping through the night is considered five hours.

Five hours is a long nap, chickens.

I’m not really into napping myself, but this is what I’ve been told.

By those accounts, Boo is a sleep champ, but I’ve been wondering, bleary eyed, when I might catch a break and sleep through the night.

Not that I’m not down with our current routine, which involves nursing in our sleep (T and me both, basically) and then going back to bed for a few more hours.

But there’s something about waking up and it being morning that you really take for granted until you have a baby.

I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch, chickens, because I know that the night is a long time for a hungry four-month-old to snooze through all the time, but man, a full night of sleep was just the thing.

Enjoy this one, chicks!

 

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cruising into the routine.

Morning, chickens!

I’m trying to do better, over here.

We had quite the weekend, filled with friends visiting and concert going and picnic having.

Three days should be the normal length of a weekend, I think.

Also during the weekend: Theo figured out how to flip himself from belly to back, pretty much ensuring that he’s never doing tummy time again, even though he’s figured out how to do this:

photo (6)

I know, I can’t stand how cute he is either.

Yesterday was back to reality, with a quick stopover to the doctor to get a shingles vaccination.

Since T was born, my RA has been back with a vengeance (well, I mean, it’s not quite that bad, but it’s not cool), and since apparently long time steroid use is a bad solution to my problem, I’ve got some new drugs to try out in the next month or so.

Which is good, because the steroids are making it easier for me to bruise, which means I look like a cage fighter.

Roughly.

Another proposed solution: having one million kids Duggar style, but JW and I aren’t sure that’s the best approach to this issue.

The condo wasn’t made for Duggars.

Anyway, I headed into the lab for a vaccination, handed it to the woman (I had to pick it up myself- doing my own dirty work these days), and the woman looked at me pointedly and whispered, “How old are you?”

When I told her, she looked at me, and the vaccine, and then looked shocked.

Which was surprising to me since we were in a rheumotologist’s office, where I’m pretty sure autoimmune disorders come up.

I explained I was down with the old lady shots, having just gotten my pneumonia vaccine a couple weeks ago as well.

She eyed me suspiciously, but here I am, vaccinated, ready to try to even out that overactive immune system of mine.

Never a dull moment around here, chickadees.

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five good things: making good edition

You guys, I’m not doing a great job at the consistency thing lately.

It doesn’t help that my computer is currently living in Theo’s room, which means when he’s sleeping, I can’t be writing.

It also doesn’t help that what I want to do most right now is just stare at his face, and when I’m not doing that, watch the West Wing and read library books.

I’m a very busy woman leading a very glamour-filled life, obviously.

July is the month in which I will do better.

In honor of that promise, here are five good things I’d like to tear through (oh man, there are a lot more than that):

1. It’s summer book reading season. I currently have 10 books home from the library, and a slew of new reads in transit. Here are a couple I’m into at the moment:

Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald

zfitgerald

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve always heard that good old Zelda was pretty much insane, but this book showcases a  (fictionalized) version of the story where no one’s left blameless. These two were celebrities  in their day, and their lives seemed to be perfect, but obviously, the gin-and-tonic-ing and  partying of the 20s eventually caught up with them. This wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was  interesting and kept moving, and about people I’m into, so I’d recommend it on those  pretenses alone.

Everything is Perfect When You’re a Liar

everythingisperfectwhenyourealiar

So my friend Ky told me to follow Kelly Oxford on the social media, and like most things Ky demands of me, I complied. She’s funny, and she was promoting her book, so I picked it up. The book makes me laugh, even though I think I’d care a tiny bit more if I understand exactly where she came from, but I’ve got confidence that the book is headed in that direction.

2. The World Cup plays on, and so does the US, in the knockout league. While I wish I was going to be at Soldier Field watching the game with what feels like the rest of the city, I can cross my fingers from work. Go USA!

3. Theo has learned how to roll over. However, every time he’s almost there, he panics and springs onto his back. He’s also started holding onto a ring on his mat so he can pull himself back when he’s gone too far.

Smart kid. Here’s an unrelated photo, because it’s adorable.

photo (34)

4. Last weekend we headed to Michigan, where we hung out with family, baptized my sweet nephew Sam (it’s also his birthday next month, so I decided it’s the Summer of Sam. Just not in a murder-y way, you know), played Mario Brothers (ohmygod I’m still addicted) and got through part of a library book. Theo had his first swim in the lake and first boat ride, so he’s now got experience to go along with all of those nautical-themed outfits.

Right?

5. After what feels like a week of sub-par summer weather, it has finally stopped storming. Which means that JW and I can take a couple walks with Theo and that I can make it to the grocery store so we stop eating exclusively carbs.

Because being exercise-free and eating only carbs seems like a bad plan.

Enjoy this one, chickens, and I’ll be back for more, I promise!

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Filed under Five Good Things, Good Reads, Michigan

sleep training: take 1

Morning, chickadees!

And sorry for the delay, but it turns out, the four month old is the boss, and the boss requires a lot of attention in the short term.

I’m hoping for some long term payouts.

Last night, on the eve of Theo’s four month old birthday, we decided to try one night of the cry-it-out method, because the little guy insists on being rocked to sleep.

Which is adorable.

But when I picture him at age 20 still needing to be rocked to sleep, I see the advantage to sleep training.

For those of you still living in the normal world of sleeping through the night with no tiny, hungry beings to wake you, here’s the gist:

You read some books, you cuddle, you say goodnight, put your your baby in his crib, and slowly walk out.

If your kid is like my kid, he immediately starts crying.

You wait three minutes, and then go shush him (don’t call it that, JW said. I’m comforting him). You say goodnight again, and try for five minutes.

More screaming.

More comfort-shushing.

10 minutes (by this point, you are pretty much convinced you are the worst), more saying goodnight, rinse and repeat.

After about 30 minutes, T exhausted himself enough to fall asleep.

JW was traumatized by the fact that the comforting was to be a no-picking-up brand of saying goodnight, but we worked through that.

Until a couple hours later, when T managed to wake himself up and JW came out of the room with a sleeping Boo in his arms.

It’s because we have neighbors, he said pointedly at me.

It’s because Daddy is a sucker, you guys.

I’m not sure you could help it either though, if you consider the following fact about Theo:

tbath

Tonight’s another try, chickens!

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Filed under Did I really do that?, Near Disaster