Mommy, are you a dwarf?

We caught the end of a documentary about a woman with restricted growth disorder, i.e.- dwarfism, coming to terms with her condition and meeting others like herself for the first time.

I explained to Nicky that she had a condition that did not allow her to grow to a normal adult height and that she was very small, not much taller than he was.

He asked me, in all earnestness, "Mommy, are you a dwarf?"

Hmpf.

What's he trying to say? I am 5'2", first thing in the morning at my full height, thank you very much. Dwarf, indeed.

I didn't take it personally, as later, he asked, "Mommy, am I a dwarf?"

Personally, I prefer the term vertically challenged.

Summer Vacation

The family and I will be interrupting this blog to take a short vacation.

What?!

You thought my life WAS the vacation??

Well, hmpf.

I do. . .stuff. My hobbies include collecting scrapbook paper (I never actually cut it to form any kind of scrapbook, but, boy, buying that stuff is FUN. . .ooooh, and all the cute embellishments that are piled on top of the paper. . .very productive hobby), collecting photos in boxes (Albums? Who needs albums?), saying that I'm going to bed early (then staying up half the night on the internet), complaining that I'm tired, reading books (okay, starting to read books, but never finishing, I guess my hobby now is reading pages), buying houseplants then killing them, the list goes on and on really.

Since we'll actually be on a road trip, I may not have easy access to computers will focus my attention on my family. I will keep trying to post, but if the posts seem sporadic, you know my excuse. I am not shirking my blogging duties. Just wanted you to know.

In Loving Memory

Our digital camera is officially dead.

Despite the fact that the 20-minute delay in taking pictures had begun to annoy me greatly, it was still a very active part of our family. We bought it a few days before Nicky was born, so that we could send pictures to our families, none of whom lived around us at the time. (You can't force your newborn baby photos on your friends and family unless they are close by. Digitals are the answer to long-distance baby photo overload.)

If we'd bought it a year earlier, we could have actually had digital pictures of our wedding and my pregnancy. Most importantly, we might actually have a digital skinny picture of me, instead of all the swollen, 'just-had-a-baby-or-two' pictures of me. The new bane of my existence is trying to find a decent Facebook photo of myself -- one of me alone, with only one chin, that is blurred just enough to hide my age. . .they don't exist.

Our digital was a patient creature. I think the cause of the 'lens error' that led to its eventual death was all of the times it was forced to take the SAME photo 30 times in attempt to capture a just-right image of my children. Anyone who has attempted to take a picture of two small children (especially if one of them is a toddler) in the desperate hope that all will look at the camera at the same time and not make some annoying sweetly goofy face knows that 30 takes is a minimum. So in loving honor of our camera, one of those times. . .

MAY 2007

Laney is sweet, Nicky has 'hangover' eyes.

Nicky is sweet, Laney MUST inspect baby's head at that exact moment.

Laney is reasonably sweet (mommy'll take it!), what the hell is Nicky doing with his face?!

This whole situation is getting old. Their lips are tired of attempting smiles. Is that a tiger growl? But hey, they're both looking at the camera!

Laney's had enough. She's outta there, but she'll smile on the way out. Nicky has begun to find this whole process tedious. Mommy is clutching the camera painfully, it can feel that it's time is drawing near and there aren't many good years left. . .

Cats

We were at a small country fair not so long ago and went for the kids' activities. They had face-painting. Nicky held back and didn't want to participate at first, but after seeing Laney all done up as a kitty cat, he decided he wanted to be a tiger. Once he had his fierce tiger stripes in place, ones he didn't have to draw on himself with ballpoint pen, he was so careful with his make-up that he didn't even want to eat cake lest he mess up his tiger mouth. This post is here simply for gratuitous "look at my adorable children" reasons.

Have you ever seen a cat ride a horse?

This month, five years ago. . .

When the month started, I waddled when I walked, could no longer sleep on my back, and desperately missed a regular an occasional after-work beer. It had been a long time. . . My pregnancy had come easily, unexpectedly, and had gone smoothly. My life was still my own, and it felt familiar to me, even if my body didn't.

By month's end, it was a completely different life. I was a different me. I was mother to a beautiful baby boy. My first child. A baby boy with a head full of black hair and eyes the color of the deep blue ocean. I had wondered what he looked like. Now I knew. I didn't realize he'd have so much hair. I didn't think his eyes would be so blue. He had a cut on the side of his perfect little nose, we still don't know what from. He had all his fingers, all his toes. He had the sweetest, smallest ears. I had never seen him before, and yet he was instantly familiar to me. It was quite remarkable to me that all those baby parts had fit inside my body not so long ago.

Who was this child? The one who seemed to know his place was with me, despite my own ambivalence and uncertainty about being his mother. I was so scared. He wasn't. He simply was. He quieted when I held him. He cried only when I didn't. He was so clear in his eyes. He seemed to look knowingly at the world around him. He didn't have that cross-eyed newborn look.

Although he could get that, too.

I wondered if I'd be a good mother. . .if I was worthy of him. I wonder that still. Sometimes, deep down near the core of me, I worry that I'm not. I can only hope that I am. At the very least, I try. I've never tried so hard at anything else in my life. We've had our ups and downs, Nicky and me. He's taught me a lot. I hope that I sometimes return that favor.

When he was born, I didn't think I knew him. How could I, I thought. I've only just met him. I see now that I knew him better than I thought. In the womb, he didn't punch or kick me often. He rolled and pushed. If his foot was tucked uncomfortably under my rib, I could push it softly, and he'd move it. Ever gentle and agreeable. He's not about big movements. He rolls when life pushes. He doesn't kick or punch his way through. He's often content to sit quietly and get lost in his drawing or in his own imagination. He doesn't clamor for attention or go out of his way to make himself noticed.

They say still waters run deep. This child is still waters. You could drown in the depths of him, and he's still so young.

He'll be five this month. This sweet baby of mine. He's growing up. Much too fast. I try to savor every moment, but it's like trying to catch the falling rain. The drops come so fast and just disappear. Time just flows. Quickly. By.

Home from the hospital
At two months

At four

At six months

And more. At one year

Two years

Three years

And four

Happy Birthday, Sweet Child!

*Quick note. Today is not Nicky's birthday. July is just his birth month.

Land of the Midnight Sun

It is 12:32 a.m., and the sun is shining brightly. That's MIDNIGHT, people.

I guess I have been living here too long. It hasn't even occured to me to bitch about, mention, marvel at the Midnight Sun. For two months of the year, the sun doesn't set at all. We're nearing the end of those two months -- or are we in the middle of them? I'd have to get an almanac, and well, it's the middle of the night!

The Midnight Sun is a pretty fantastic sight, and the very long days are lovely. It's hard on me, though, because I just don't sleep well in the summer here. It's just too much light in the middle of the night. It is a crazy feeling, though, to be up at 11:30 and night and have a lot of energy, because the sun is shining outside.

This was taken about 11:45 or so. It came out dark, because of the trees, but it's actually pretty bright outside.

Here's another one taken a few minutes ago. I know you're not supposed to point the camera at the sun, but. . .the things I do for journalistic integrity.

Boy or Girl?

Some of you have seen this before, but since it goes along with the theme, I thought I'd post it here.

There was a point in time, in college, of course, when I seriously thought all baby clothes, 0 - 2 years, should be unisex. That way, during those critical formative years, people wouldn't readily be able to tell the sex of a child and thereby impose their gender biases on them. All babies would -- and should! -- be treated equally. Really, the baby doesn't care what it's wearing. Why DO people force their little girls to wear pink dresses? Three-month-old baby boys are NOT athletic superstars, so stop with the 'sportswear' already!

Of course, I didn't have a baby then. I didn't know what the hell I was talking about.

When I got pregnant the first time and found out it was a boy, a buying frenzy of all things blue and boyish ensued. I couldn't help it. Unisex was so not-fun! I got pregnant a second time, found out it was a girl, and for some reason, my daughter didn't own anything that wasn't pink or embroidered with flowers and butterflies.

But in the name of gender equality, I took pictures of my two babies in a unisex outfit at roughly the same age. It thought it was kind of funny. Can you tell which is the girl and which is the boy? No? And for some reason I want you to be able to! So much for my militant feminist sensibilities. (Most of you already know, of course.)