I think things are looking up for 2009. Here's why:
1. After wasting 12 hours of my life on the phone with tech support at HP, they've finally agreed to send a new printer. It seems fancier than the last one and I'm just hoping it will actually work.
2. Our new router is finally up and running. It took a little more effort than I anticipated (thanks to our modem being located in the garage and the router having to be physically connected to both the computer and the modem at the same time - picture me, hanging out in the garage doing a little tech support of my own) - but the result it quite rewarding. I've now set up our desktop in the family room in anticipation of much Skypeing over the next couple of months.
3. I just added more ram to this computer, so now the desktop is quickety quick, too. It takes so little success to make me feel so very accomplished.
4. I have a hot date for New Year's Eve. Picture this: me, Wyatt, pigs in a blanket with french fries being served picnic-style in front of a movie. We'll have a faux midnight, complete with our new noisemakers and hats, then ring in the new year with a little non-alcoholic mojito from Trader Joe's. If all goes according to plan, he'll be in bed by nine, I'll be in bed by ten and no one will be hungover tomorrow.
5. Oh, speaking of hungover, I just saw an ad for something called mommystrips. It's a test strip for breastmilk so a nursing mom can see if it's okay to feed her baby after a night on the town. I can't decide if it's just wrong or mildly brilliant. What do you think?
6. Jeff has called and arrived in one piece, though didn't get settled into a room until the very wee hours. He assures me it all looks the same and that I'll get more reports after he's banished the jetlag. Yeah, I don't miss that part.
Hope your New Year's is fantastic!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Lessons
1. Ram. Can be a verb (as in, I'd like to ram into someone at HP with a large, heavy vehicle because your software glitch is making me crazy and wasting my precious free time); can also be a noun (as in, all we needed was more ram and now our laptop is quickety quick.)
2. Japan. Not China, son. You were born in Japan, you lived in Japan. Please stop insisting it was China. It makes Daddy say things like, "he could be a Chinese spy and we'd never know it."
3. Don't leave the garage door up when it's cold. It makes it really easy for random wildlife to take up residence (more on this later).
4. Yes, kid, that is a funny face. When did you learn to do that? And who taught you because it wasn't one of your parents.
5. Everyone packs differently. I'm a folder or a roller, my husband is a lay everything flat kind of guy (even individual socks! my God, the OCD of it all). Has anyone ever studied this or are we going to have to have a pack-off someday?
6. Taxpayers rock! I just found out that we're* getting a raise. This is very helpful, so thank you. (And yes, I said we. And no, I don't actually earn a paycheck but yet, somehow, I have a lot of control over the cashflow at this house. Maybe that's a problem?)
7. Two-year olds say the darnedest things without even knowing it. That's the best. Like tonight when Wyatt took a bite of grilled yellow pepper, promptly spit it out and announced, "that not a peach!" Something about that...well, maybe you had to be here.
8. The whole month of January, the whole month of February and a couple days of December do not add up to 45 days. They add up to more. Like, a whole two weeks more. I think I shouldn't have done the math.
9. Every child is different, even in utero. Wyatt was such a kicker (still is - have you seen how the diaper changes go down in this house?) and the one I'm incubating right now insists on wiggling. Just weird, spastic, wriggling. It kind of spooks me the way this one can already dance so well. Must take after my dad.
10. Webcams are supercool and we're pretty dumb for not having figured it out sooner. But at least it was a technical success. Now just wish me luck for installing our fancy new router. Congratulations to us - we're finally joining the modern age.
2. Japan. Not China, son. You were born in Japan, you lived in Japan. Please stop insisting it was China. It makes Daddy say things like, "he could be a Chinese spy and we'd never know it."
3. Don't leave the garage door up when it's cold. It makes it really easy for random wildlife to take up residence (more on this later).
4. Yes, kid, that is a funny face. When did you learn to do that? And who taught you because it wasn't one of your parents.
5. Everyone packs differently. I'm a folder or a roller, my husband is a lay everything flat kind of guy (even individual socks! my God, the OCD of it all). Has anyone ever studied this or are we going to have to have a pack-off someday?
6. Taxpayers rock! I just found out that we're* getting a raise. This is very helpful, so thank you. (And yes, I said we. And no, I don't actually earn a paycheck but yet, somehow, I have a lot of control over the cashflow at this house. Maybe that's a problem?)
7. Two-year olds say the darnedest things without even knowing it. That's the best. Like tonight when Wyatt took a bite of grilled yellow pepper, promptly spit it out and announced, "that not a peach!" Something about that...well, maybe you had to be here.
8. The whole month of January, the whole month of February and a couple days of December do not add up to 45 days. They add up to more. Like, a whole two weeks more. I think I shouldn't have done the math.
9. Every child is different, even in utero. Wyatt was such a kicker (still is - have you seen how the diaper changes go down in this house?) and the one I'm incubating right now insists on wiggling. Just weird, spastic, wriggling. It kind of spooks me the way this one can already dance so well. Must take after my dad.
10. Webcams are supercool and we're pretty dumb for not having figured it out sooner. But at least it was a technical success. Now just wish me luck for installing our fancy new router. Congratulations to us - we're finally joining the modern age.
Christmas '08 - A Photo Review
Story time with Grandpa (the book choice was all Wyatt - The Take It Apart Airplane)
Building time with Grandpa
Playtime with Daddy
The Rock men
My pastry chef
Explaining his technique to Grandpa and Grandma
Completing the masterpiece
Christmas Eve - another feast
My sous chef - this time it was whipped cream
Cookies for Santa
Checking out his haul from Santa
Digging for more
Using his new golf clubs to maneuver all the balls. Pure joy.
No holiday would be complete without festive canines.
No holiday would be complete without festive canines.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
'Tis the Season
My last couple of weeks in list form, because that seems to be the only way I can get things done:
1. My son is obsessed with engines. It started with jets and has now moved to cars.
2. Any Santa is a good Santa, even the one who comes to an airplane hangar for free. You know why? He gives out books and candy canes.
3. Maybe Santa in a hangar is cooler because there are also jets there, which each have two engines.
4. Jet fuel looks like water when it's spilled on a tile floor. Or so I'm told by my spouse who had no idea that's what our son slipped on. And you'd think he'd know if anyone in our family would, right?
5. How to get jet fuel out of clothing and is a weird thing to Google.
6. You cannot fully remove JP-8 from any article of clothing, though 19 washes, loads of Febreze, extra detergent, letting clothing sit outside for two days (including one night in the rain), Dawn direct dish foam and goo gone can all come together to make things more tolerable.
7. Transitions to big boy beds are not as overwhelming for the two-year old as the mommy anticipated. It could be said he hasn't missed the crib at all.
8. Two-year olds like being called a big boy unless they sense it means they'll have to do something they don't like. And then, "Mommy, I not a big boy" will be uttered.
9. Two-year olds do not care if your gingerbread parts are too flimsy to make a house; they would still like to eat them.
10. Just because I feel like a big pregnant girl doesn't mean my doctor thinks I am. In fact, she might just accuse me of being small and do an ultrasound to measure the baby, who, in fact, turns out to be perfectly average.
11. Wyatt sometimes tells me he has a baby in his tummy, too.
12. When your child hugs your pregnant self and says, "I can't wait to meet you, baby!" it's pretty endearing.
13. I hope I never have to stop picking out cute outfits for my kid because the Christmas jammies he's breaking in tonight make me awfully happy. Dogs all over them! Dressed as reindeer! And one looks like Millie!
14. Our Christmas cards are going to be late. Perhaps I should decide now to not send any next year. Or maybe I should book a photographer now for next October. Suggestions?
15. The neighbors hijacked my husband for rum with a splash of eggnog and good ol' boy conversation in their garage. I'm totally jealous (of the rum) and love our little cul-de-sac.
16. It is not good for the self-esteem to have to quick! find a dress! for a holiday party when in the midst of a pregnancy. It also leads to overbuying and multiple returns during the worst season for shopping.
17. Fashion crisis was uttered in this house approximately 39 times in two days.
18. The party was fun and I couldn't tell you what most people were wearing. When will I learn?
19. Wyatt loves chasing or being chased. If you come over, you should offer to chase him through the house because it will make his day.
20. Wyatt's hierarchy of cool: the park trumps playing in our own yard, Trader Joe's trumps the park, going to a fini flight trumps Trader Joe's and doing anything with Daddy trumps a fini flight.
21. It amazes me how some people can pick a baby name when they're 6 weeks pregnant and stick by it while I will undoubtedly mull over all my options during labor, just hoping that this one comes out with a "Hello! My name is ----" sticker on it's chest. You know, like it's been at a conference.
22. When a two-year old tells his Daddy (while standing in a cockpit for a photo) that he "wants to fly this jet", the Daddy beams with pride in a way I've never seen.
23. I'm dreading Jeff's departure, but not nearly as much for myself as I am for Wyatt. How do you tell a Daddy-loving two-year old that he can't see the guy who hung the moon for a couple of months?
24. I'm convinced that the days will be long but the weeks will fly by. Someone tell me this is true, even if you're lying.
25. Spending four - or was it five? - hours of my day on tech support with HP regarding our printer that refuses to cooperate was not how I envisioned spending my day. Here's a thought: if two HP computers can't talk to an HP printer and the HP tech can't figure it out, maybe it's your problem, HP! How about you send me a new set up and I don't come after you for pain and suffering? Or maybe Santa will drop a Mac down the chimney this week.
1. My son is obsessed with engines. It started with jets and has now moved to cars.
2. Any Santa is a good Santa, even the one who comes to an airplane hangar for free. You know why? He gives out books and candy canes.
3. Maybe Santa in a hangar is cooler because there are also jets there, which each have two engines.
4. Jet fuel looks like water when it's spilled on a tile floor. Or so I'm told by my spouse who had no idea that's what our son slipped on. And you'd think he'd know if anyone in our family would, right?
5. How to get jet fuel out of clothing and is a weird thing to Google.
6. You cannot fully remove JP-8 from any article of clothing, though 19 washes, loads of Febreze, extra detergent, letting clothing sit outside for two days (including one night in the rain), Dawn direct dish foam and goo gone can all come together to make things more tolerable.
7. Transitions to big boy beds are not as overwhelming for the two-year old as the mommy anticipated. It could be said he hasn't missed the crib at all.
8. Two-year olds like being called a big boy unless they sense it means they'll have to do something they don't like. And then, "Mommy, I not a big boy" will be uttered.
9. Two-year olds do not care if your gingerbread parts are too flimsy to make a house; they would still like to eat them.
10. Just because I feel like a big pregnant girl doesn't mean my doctor thinks I am. In fact, she might just accuse me of being small and do an ultrasound to measure the baby, who, in fact, turns out to be perfectly average.
11. Wyatt sometimes tells me he has a baby in his tummy, too.
12. When your child hugs your pregnant self and says, "I can't wait to meet you, baby!" it's pretty endearing.
13. I hope I never have to stop picking out cute outfits for my kid because the Christmas jammies he's breaking in tonight make me awfully happy. Dogs all over them! Dressed as reindeer! And one looks like Millie!
14. Our Christmas cards are going to be late. Perhaps I should decide now to not send any next year. Or maybe I should book a photographer now for next October. Suggestions?
15. The neighbors hijacked my husband for rum with a splash of eggnog and good ol' boy conversation in their garage. I'm totally jealous (of the rum) and love our little cul-de-sac.
16. It is not good for the self-esteem to have to quick! find a dress! for a holiday party when in the midst of a pregnancy. It also leads to overbuying and multiple returns during the worst season for shopping.
17. Fashion crisis was uttered in this house approximately 39 times in two days.
18. The party was fun and I couldn't tell you what most people were wearing. When will I learn?
19. Wyatt loves chasing or being chased. If you come over, you should offer to chase him through the house because it will make his day.
20. Wyatt's hierarchy of cool: the park trumps playing in our own yard, Trader Joe's trumps the park, going to a fini flight trumps Trader Joe's and doing anything with Daddy trumps a fini flight.
21. It amazes me how some people can pick a baby name when they're 6 weeks pregnant and stick by it while I will undoubtedly mull over all my options during labor, just hoping that this one comes out with a "Hello! My name is ----" sticker on it's chest. You know, like it's been at a conference.
22. When a two-year old tells his Daddy (while standing in a cockpit for a photo) that he "wants to fly this jet", the Daddy beams with pride in a way I've never seen.
23. I'm dreading Jeff's departure, but not nearly as much for myself as I am for Wyatt. How do you tell a Daddy-loving two-year old that he can't see the guy who hung the moon for a couple of months?
24. I'm convinced that the days will be long but the weeks will fly by. Someone tell me this is true, even if you're lying.
25. Spending four - or was it five? - hours of my day on tech support with HP regarding our printer that refuses to cooperate was not how I envisioned spending my day. Here's a thought: if two HP computers can't talk to an HP printer and the HP tech can't figure it out, maybe it's your problem, HP! How about you send me a new set up and I don't come after you for pain and suffering? Or maybe Santa will drop a Mac down the chimney this week.
26. I thought Wyatt grasped the secular idea of Christmas (you know, the ask for everything you could possibly want part) until he insisted that all he wants from Santa is a red ball, a blue ball, a yellow ball and some candy. When pressed for details, he specifically wants M&M's. Wow, kid, way to dream big.
27. Thankfully Wyatt is also grasping the real reason behind Christmas, pretty much. When asked what Christmas is, he says it's baby Jesus' birthday. And then quickly reminds us that his is in June. Mark your calendars accordingly.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Just When I Think I'm Over It
We've been repatriated for a full year now and I think I've done a decent job of assimilating into mainstream America. In fact, our days in Japan no longer seem so fresh in my mind and I'm sure there are things I'm starting to filter out of my memory (sad but true). And then! Then a gem of good ol' Engrish like this shows up in my email and takes me right back.
Dear IACE's valued customers,
We wish you a very merry Christmas from all of our hearts.We thank you for choosing IACE TRAVEL when you traveled through this year. We are very appreciated.We also hope we will do business together next year as well. We are looking forward to seeing you soon!Thank you very much, again, for choosing IACE TRAVEL many times. Have a nice christmas holidays!
IACE TRAVEL Co., Ltd.
Maybe you have to have lived there to appreciate this one, but the "we are very appreciated" line following shortly after "merry Christmas from all of our hearts" warms my soul.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Two People Asked
The rest of you might want to avert your eyes, for it is a pregnant me.
I would argue that I'm larger (perhaps significantly larger) than at the same point last time. But the upside is that this time when I have these 'documenting the growth of a whale' photos taken, I now have a handy side-kick prop. Unfortunately, the snowmen on the rug were speaking to him and he found it quite distracting.
I would argue that I'm larger (perhaps significantly larger) than at the same point last time. But the upside is that this time when I have these 'documenting the growth of a whale' photos taken, I now have a handy side-kick prop. Unfortunately, the snowmen on the rug were speaking to him and he found it quite distracting.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
It's Like Car Shopping
Wyatt grabbed our new baby-naming book off my bedside table* yesterday. I suggested perhaps he could find us a good moniker for our baby and encouraged him to look. There are four infants - all cute - pictured on the cover. One is blond-haired, blue-eyed; one is brown-haired, brown-eyed; one is Asian and one is African American (very PC of the publisher, no?).
Wyatt quit looking at the names, pointed to the picture of the blond baby and said he wants that one. Luckily, his odds are good.
*Yes, we bought yet another book. Yes, we're struggling. No, none of you have suggested names. A little help here, people?
Wyatt quit looking at the names, pointed to the picture of the blond baby and said he wants that one. Luckily, his odds are good.
*Yes, we bought yet another book. Yes, we're struggling. No, none of you have suggested names. A little help here, people?
Monday, December 01, 2008
New Traditions
It's been two whole years since we've celebrated Christmas in our own home. We traveled to Kansas two years ago (now known as the Christmas of Sickness) and last year we were in transition/homeless. Between that and the fact that we actually own a house now, it's safe to say I've been really excited to decorate and see all the stuff we haven't laid eyes on for Wyatt's whole life. We got our trees out (yes, two, because from the moment we looked at this house I knew it screamed for two trees. I feel so grown up and fancy!) and Jeff hauled all the decorations out of the attic, so we started the process of unwrapping all the ornaments, reminiscing about their history and where we were in life when we acquired them. I love that annual trip down memory lane.
Apparently life before Wyatt holds no charm for the little man. He felt zero ownership in our "family ornaments" and I'm sure his lack of enthusiasm was compounded by the frustration he felt as we said, over and over again, "don't touch that, it's fragile!" or, "these aren't toys and that isn't a ball and you can't roll it on the floor and we don't throw them!" He's not interested in the little sugar mill we bought in St. Croix, the glass balls from our very first tree together in Little Rock, the miniature Alamo from our days in San Antonio, the cloisonne egg from Beijing or any of the multitude of Japanese souvenirs that have such a special place in our hearts. Can you blame him? I can't. So I suggested that maybe he and I would venture out this week to find some special ornaments just for him (translation in my mind: this will be an outing mid-week, the ornaments will be unbreakable and have no meaning to me, therefore it will not be heartwrenching when he inevitably yanks them off the tree.) That was Saturday morning.
Saturday afternoon, after his nap, he woke up wanting to get is Special Ornaments right now. We hedged; he bawled. We tried to have him help us hang all the non-fragile ornaments we already own; he wanted to know when we were getting his very Special Ornaments. He refused to help decorate until he had his own ornaments and cried some (a lot) more; we relented and headed to Target. Wyatt chose a lovely container of shatterproof Christmas ornaments. They are shades of magenta, blue, green, orange, purple and red. He loves them. He carried them through the entire store, hugging them, telling strangers they were his Special Ornaments. Then he suggested we "go right back home" to start decorating. So we did. Jeff remarked as we were leaving that we might need to toughen up as parents. I suggested that if $7 made Wyatt feel like a part of our family, then it was probably worth it.
There are now 15 multicolored (though festive, I like them!) ornaments hung in a small area on the low branches of our tree. He hung every single one, asking for help every once in a while and tolerating our interference when we spread them out so five weren't on one branch tip. He admires them and proudly tells us they're his "Special Ornaments; not Mommy's, not Daddy's, not Millie's." And amazingly, he has (two days in, I know it's early) refrained from moving them around. It seems to have given him some reverence for the Christmas tree. And darn it, now I know those run-of-the-mill, mass-produced, made-in-China, shatterproof ornaments have moved into my sentimental column forever and always.
Apparently life before Wyatt holds no charm for the little man. He felt zero ownership in our "family ornaments" and I'm sure his lack of enthusiasm was compounded by the frustration he felt as we said, over and over again, "don't touch that, it's fragile!" or, "these aren't toys and that isn't a ball and you can't roll it on the floor and we don't throw them!" He's not interested in the little sugar mill we bought in St. Croix, the glass balls from our very first tree together in Little Rock, the miniature Alamo from our days in San Antonio, the cloisonne egg from Beijing or any of the multitude of Japanese souvenirs that have such a special place in our hearts. Can you blame him? I can't. So I suggested that maybe he and I would venture out this week to find some special ornaments just for him (translation in my mind: this will be an outing mid-week, the ornaments will be unbreakable and have no meaning to me, therefore it will not be heartwrenching when he inevitably yanks them off the tree.) That was Saturday morning.
Saturday afternoon, after his nap, he woke up wanting to get is Special Ornaments right now. We hedged; he bawled. We tried to have him help us hang all the non-fragile ornaments we already own; he wanted to know when we were getting his very Special Ornaments. He refused to help decorate until he had his own ornaments and cried some (a lot) more; we relented and headed to Target. Wyatt chose a lovely container of shatterproof Christmas ornaments. They are shades of magenta, blue, green, orange, purple and red. He loves them. He carried them through the entire store, hugging them, telling strangers they were his Special Ornaments. Then he suggested we "go right back home" to start decorating. So we did. Jeff remarked as we were leaving that we might need to toughen up as parents. I suggested that if $7 made Wyatt feel like a part of our family, then it was probably worth it.
There are now 15 multicolored (though festive, I like them!) ornaments hung in a small area on the low branches of our tree. He hung every single one, asking for help every once in a while and tolerating our interference when we spread them out so five weren't on one branch tip. He admires them and proudly tells us they're his "Special Ornaments; not Mommy's, not Daddy's, not Millie's." And amazingly, he has (two days in, I know it's early) refrained from moving them around. It seems to have given him some reverence for the Christmas tree. And darn it, now I know those run-of-the-mill, mass-produced, made-in-China, shatterproof ornaments have moved into my sentimental column forever and always.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)