We had another amazing, whirlwind of a weekend at the DD household that included two dates, one testosterone-filled dinner party and some Weeds.
On Saturday we got a babysitter for the afternoon and Roger and I attended the hands-on sushi class we've been trying to take for the past three months (we'd rescheduled twice due to all of the great family visits we had this summer). I'd taken this class six years ago and from time to time Roger and I make sushi at home (mostly spicy tuna rolls, California rolls and other easy stuff). But, I'd forgotten some of the tips and techniques over the years and Roger's always wanted to take the class. It was perfect for a date! There were about 30 people in the class and we made all sorts of sushi and got to eat and enjoy everything we made. Now, we're excited to try some of the things we learned at home. Shrimp tempura rolls, here we come!
That night we hosted a dinner party for two of Roger's "single" friends. Let me stop here and help you pick your jaw up off the ground so those huge Texas flies don't get in. Yes, I said Roger has friends. Weird, right? After six years of claiming that I am his only friend (he's not a big socializer to put it mildly) he asked me if we could invite these guys over for his famous carne guisada. Although I'd been looking forward to a quiet Saturday night, I agreed because how often does Roger ever ask for anything? Let alone anything that involves him having "friends?" Good God, this might be a once-in-a-lifetime event.
Anyway, he invited my best friend's husband (whom Roger and I both work with) since his wife is in Hawaii and another friend from work who's going through a divorce (and gettin' busy out there in the dating world once again). I told Roger before the guys arrived that after dinner I'd happily retire to the bedroom to surf the Web, but he insisted that I stay for the duration (Ah-ha! He may have friends, but he still needs to lean on his social butterfly of a wife a little when entertaining.). The evening was a success even though the conversation turned somewhat raunchy after a few drinks (Um, boys? I'm not a guy. And although I'm glad that you feel comfortable enough around me to talk about "pussies" in my presence, I probably don't need to hear "cunt" conversationally while swallowing Mexican beef stew.). Other than enduring our nearly-divorced friend's frequent, loud belches (with nary an, "Excuse me!") I had fun. Next time, though, we've got to add a little more estrogen to the party.
We spent our second date on Sunday afternoon doing something I'd been looking forward to for weeks. We saw, Snakes on a Plane. And, baby, was it ever goooooood. To quote a review about it that Roger read to me over the weekend, "If loving Snakes on a Plane is wrong, I don't want to be right." I could hear Samuel L. Jackson yell, "I've had it with these motherf*cking snakes on this motherf*cking plane!" ALL DAY LONG. Not sure why, but I could. I do know that I was terrified to run to the bathroom (even though I drank eight gallons of Diet Coke) in the event that I'd miss him saying that. I mean, it was the best part, although the movie was SO good that it's hard to pick just one favorite scene. Sex; blood; a germaphobic rapper; poisonous, vicious snakes; and a chihuahua? All on a plane? It doesn't get any better than that, my friends.
And, in between all of our plans and antics, we managed to watch the entire first season of, "Weeds," on DVD. I'd watched it previously on my iPod at the gym, but Roger had never seen it. I love that show and it was fun to watch Roger experience it for the first time. Now, if we only had Showtime so we could see season two.
It was a great weekend but now its Monday. Time to get back to reality.
So how're the newly acquainted siblings getting along? Well, let's just say they haven't quite warmed to each other yet. Maybe it's because they haven't spent much time together. Maybe it's because Delaney's never seen anyone with a lip ring and a Mohawk. Maybe it's because Big Brother scared the bejeezus out of her by getting in her little face and shouting, "Boo!" sending her screaming into my arms. Or, maybe it's because Big Brother's friend, Travel Buddy, vomited eight gallons of Tex-Mex while sitting next to her in my car after dinner on their first night in town (I'll never look at chips and queso in quite the same way again. But, strangely, I think I'll still eat them. Even puke can't quell the love I have for spicy cheese.). Anyway, I think they just need to spend some quality time together forging their bizarre, yet meaningful relationship amid a 17-year age difference. Heck, their father and I were able to do it.
Speaking of Roger, he spent an awfully long time cleaning Travel Buddy's barf out of my car, God love him. Sadly, it's not the first (and probably won't be the last) time he's cleaned up puke on my behalf. The first time was when my sweet, high-spirited British friend came to town for some crazy single-girls-on-the-town fun and instead wound up sitting in my boring, tiny house watching me make goo-goo eyes at the love of my life. To bring her spirits up after that disappointment, I served her a special brownie prior to dinner at a Japanese restaurant. Please believe me when I tell you that saki, sushi and psychedelic desserts do not mix. When we returned home I was a little too inebriated and floaty to help carry her into the guest room so Roger did it. Minutes later, after he dropped her into bed, she spewed forth. Roger had to clean it all up whilst I lay in the next room, drunkenly calling for him to keep watch on her all night so she wouldn't choke to death. Ah, good times.
And, this amazing man was called upon once again to prove his love for me when one of our dogs, Guinness, came down with a virus. I had just picked Roger up at the airport. He was returning from a Christmas visit with his kids and I planned to sweep him off of his feet and into our quaint bedroom for a welcome home celebration. Instead, when we walked into the house we were hit by a stench so vile that it must be what CSIs experience when they find a days-old corpse. It was nas-tay. I'd left poor Guinn in the sunroom because it was terribly cold outside. While I was gone she'd gotten sick, from both ends, ALL over the room. I decided to take her to the vet and Roger said he'd stay behind to clean up. As I headed for the door with Guinness in my arms, I glanced back and saw Roger gagging and barfing as he mopped. He had to clean up after the dog and himself. And, I'm ashamed to admit it, but I laughed so hard I got tears in my eyes. But lest you think me a terrible person, I laughed not only because it was such a ridiculous scene, but also because he's so dear and constantly shows me, even in the strangest of ways, how much he loves me.
I love you, too, Honey. And I'm so glad you don't make me clean up the barf.
I'm Irish. I used to drink with the best of 'em. Tonight, one margarita's got me reeling. I'm slightly drunk. Roger surprised me by suggesting that the three of us go out to dinner. We've taken Delaney out to lunch before, but I don't think we've taken her to dinner very many times. So, this was special. To be out in public...at night! I love a good Friday night out, the excitement of the weekend peering over your shoulder, whispering promises of everything good that's to come.
I chose our old haunt. The place where the
fight discussion began before the decision. The place where Roger proposed to me. The place where we'd spent so many Friday nights before, just the two of us, dreaming about our future which became our present. The place I'd wanted to take our daughter since she was born. It's a Mexican restaurant. Tex-mex, to be fair. And their margaritas kick ass. Used to be the most I could handle was two and if I had three well, you'd better watch out.
Tonight on the patio, in that 95 degree heat (that actually felt quite nice in the shade of a huge, old oak tree), I sipped one of those potent potables and felt that calm, sinking loveliness that descends as the alcohol hits your bloodstream. Delaney's cheeks were bright red from the heat, her reddish blonde hair damp against her forehead. She charmed those at nearby tables by waving hello, saying hi and showing them her tortilla. The food was delicious. The evening, perfect. Save for one thing: it was over too quickly. The waiter was punctual, the kitchen too quick with our order. Within an hour of arriving, we were leaving and yet, I wasn't ready for it to end. I always feel that way now when we're out on the town. Those times, those amazing moments, are so far and few between that I want them to last. I want to savor their every last second. But, that's what makes them all the more memorable I guess.
I'm not in much of a tie-it-all-together-nicely-with-a-bow mood so here's a bulleted list of goings on in the DD household:
He'll look at me, out of the blue, and say, "My God, you're beautiful!"
She'll stop and look at me when I tell her, "No," but keep right on doing what she's not supposed to be doing.
He cooks dinner--every night--and never lets me clean up.
She sighs in her sleep and sometimes smiles when I lay my hand on her tummy to check on her at night.
He watches The Bachelor with me and never refuses when I ask him to join me in the Fantasy Suite.
She loves it when I sing to her, even though I can't.
He mows the lawn, even though it hurts his knees.
She reaches for me when I pick her up at the gym daycare.
He works out, even though it hurts his knees.
She talks even more than her mother does.
He reads books.
She eats books.
He brings me a magic potion* and a smile every night just as he said he would those many years ago.
She loves her sister and wants to play with her ALL the time.
He takes me to chick flicks.
She imitates everything we do.
He told me that one day we'd have a little house, some dogs, lots of books and music and always a little wine in the fridge and we do.
She sleeps through the night, every night.
He loves his children with all of his heart.
She reaches out for her Daddy when he comes home from work.
He loves me unconditionally and passionately even though I'm a first-rate nut-job of the highest order.
She breaks into huge smiles, seemingly for no reason sometimes, showing us all eight of her gorgeous white teeth.
He lays in bed in the dark with me, talking and laughing, like girls on a sleepover.
She laughs when we make silly faces, when we make funny sounds and when we tickle her.
He makes me laugh. He makes me feel sexy and beautiful. He makes me feel loved. All of it. Every single day.
She snuggles up to me in bed as I nurse her every morning, pausing every so often to look up at me to make sure I'm still there.
Happy Valentine's Day to the loves of my life!
* A subject for a post all its own, the magic potion is an over-the-counter exlixir that I've been taking ever since I had a surgery to remove half of my colon eight years ago. Another post, another time!
I thought that being a stay-at-home-mom would provide me with plenty of time to keep our home clean and uncluttered. But, even with a maid service coming every other week, our house is still a mess and I can't seem to keep up with the laundry. Sometimes the clutter drives me mad, other times I just ignore it and enjoy my family instead of worrying about it.
Delaney had a night out on Saturday. We took her with us to have dinner at our friends' house. She played and showed off her crawling skills for while and then went straight to sleep in her playpen in their bedroom. She didn't make a peep until about 11pm and then we took her home. Roger and I were so proud of her and how she just went with the flow and this change of schedule didn't bother her at all. We got to enjoy a night out without having to get a babysitter. Very cool.
Delaney's much better and, we think, completely over her illness. I, on the other hand, can't seem to shake mine. I started out with a cold last Sunday and it's still hanging on (although it could be a combination of allergies and a cold). I'm starting to drive Roger crazy with my coughing and sniffling. But, as a nursing mother, I try not to take much medication (a little cough syrup here and there). I wish I could take something stronger for my relief, but really more for Roger's.
Roger and I saw Brokeback Mountain today. It was a beautifully filmed, tragic love story (Ledger and Gyllenhaal completely make you forget that they're A-list, hetero celebrities) and we discussed it several times tonight. I think that's one of the marks of a great movie...it makes you think and it encourages discourse. The strangest thing happened at the theater, though. Right after the lights went down, we saw a family of four come in and sit down. The parents had two little girls, about 8 and 10 years old, with them. I couldn't figure out how they determined this was an appropriate movie for young girls. About 20 minutes later, during the graphic sex scene, the parents jumped up, grabbed their children and raced towards the exit. HOW on earth could they not have known about the content of this movie? What on earth did they think it was about? Nanny McPhee it was not. Bizarre.
As we left the theater, two elderly ladies were in front of us, discussing the film. One said to the other, "So sad," and the other lady agreed. As I waited in line for the restroom, two separate, but equally elderly ladies were speaking about the movie too. One said, "Just not my cup of tea," to which the other replied, "Nor mine." Funny, the different reactions and perspectives people have.
I think Delaney's entered a power-play stage (a stage that Roger says will last until she's at least my age!). During meals, she rips her bib off every chance she gets and now she no longer allows me to brush her teeth. From four to ten months of age, every night I'd brush her teeth. I'd tell her, "time to brush teeth," and she'd immediately open her mouth and let me go to work. Now, when I try the same tactic, she clamps her lips shut and denies me entry. I've tried several techniques to get her to let me in, but most of the time they don't work. I'm starting to worry about this, although Roger tells me not to. I'm kind of a teeth freak. I brush my own at length and my dentist always raves about what great care I take of my teeth and how I never have any cavities. I want Delaney to have great teeth too. Any tips for getting her to give up the control on this one? This little struggle leads me to wonder what else she's got in store for me. She's definitely developing a strong will. Delightful!
I had a Girls' Night Out this week with some of my old book club friends. It was the first time in recent memory that I left the house at night, in the dark, by myself, to go out and have some fun. It was wonderful. The weather was nice so we sat outside by a fire on a patio at a local restaurant, drank wine, had dinner and laughed ourselves silly. I hadn't seen most of these girls in a few months so we were able to catch up and talk about our kids and about things that don't even involve our kids. I was desperately in need of some girl talk and this fit the bill perfectly. We all agreed we need to get together more often so we're doing it again in just a few weeks. We're a motley group of women, some single, some married, some parents, some not, but the thing we have in common is our ability to talk about anything and everything and have fun doing. I can't wait for our next outting.
I love Grey's Anatomy. It was so good tonight. But, it pissed me off that it ended with a cliffhanger. I already drool in anticipation of each new episode. Now I have to wait a whole week to find out what happens next. Drats!
I've graduated from one-hour training sessions with my trainer to half-hour ones. Tomorrow's the start of a these new sessions. I'm excited because while I'll still be working hard while I'm with him, I can use the extra half-hour to increase my cardio. I work out 4-5 times per week, but I really haven't seen any major changes. I want to lose weight so in addition to changing my diet (which will happen ONE of these days, I'm just sure of it!) I need to up the cardio and see if that helps. Still, I'm down 8 pounds from what my weight was when I became pregnant with Delaney so I'm not doing all that badly.
We had such a busy weekend and I also had work to do. I finally got some of my work done tonight but that left me with only a little time to blog this post before bed. Which, makes me feel guilty because while I'm writing this I still owe emails and comments to new friends I've recently made. So, to Karen, moxiemomma and Stephanie , I hope you'll forgive me and I promise to get back to you very soon!
Delaney's crawling! She'd been doing it inch by inch for the past week or so, but she's made huge strides (literally!) in the last few days. She does this adorable, hilarious crab-crawl thing (Roger calls her Tripod) where she can only crawl when her right leg is sticking straight out. This milestone, while exciting, is kind of freaking me out. She's getting into things now that she shouldn't and we've got to keep a close eye on her at all times and babyproof everything to keep her safe. With regards to babyproofing, we're not those parents you hear about who've proofed the whole house before the child is born. We took the wait and see approach. Well, we waited and on Friday I saw, so Roger spent the better part of the weekend working on making the house safe for our little crab.
And, what's with babies having to put everything in their mouths? What was God thinking when he decided that's how they'd approach the world, that's how they'd learn? If you ask me, the hand-to-mouth stuff is more of a feature than a benefit. Now, instead of having a maid service vacuum once every other week (sure, it should have been done more often than that anyway, but really, who has the time?), I'll need to do it myself every day. We have Mathilde hair everywhere, dust bunnies, dirt from foot traffic. Ick. I've been finding the strangest things on the floor that I'd probably just ignored before, but now every little speck is a hazard to Delaney (or extremely gross to me). One man's dirt is another parent's nightmare.
Anyway, on to the coughing. Delaney's been coughing at night for the past 10 days. The weird thing is that it almost only happens at night and usually doesn't start until she's been asleep for about 3-4 hours. She generally doesn't wake up from it, but I sure do. Every little cough she utters jolts me awake, so needless to say, I haven't been sleeping well lately. We didn't call the doctor right away because she had no other symptoms. She had no fever, no runny nose. She eats normally and is always in great spirits.
About four nights into it I thought I'd try a humidifier. It doesn't seem to be making a difference, but we're continuing it anyway. Seven nights into it I finally called the doctor's office and spoke to his physician's assistant. She told me we could try an OTC infant cough medicine and said that if she developed any more symptoms to call back. Things appeared to improve a bit after we gave her the cough medicine, but this afternoon right before I left the house for some one-on-one time (with myself! Can you imagine? Just me, me, me all to myself.) her temperature went up to 100.4. I know that's not terribly high, but for a baby who's never been sick and who's only had a fever immediately after birth, it upset me a little. Roger assured me that she'd be fine, he'd take her temp again and keep a close eye on her. So, with mild trepidation, off I went.
By the time I returned three hours later, she no longer had that little temp and was still happy as a clam (crab!). She's been coughing less tonight. I guess I'll see what happens overnight and call for an appointment in the morning if it's warranted. The whole thing is troubling, but not too worrisome. I think it just bugs me that I can't figure out why she's coughing.
And, now to the cinema. As I've mentioned before, my husband rocks. Yesterday I told him I needed some time to myself so today he encouraged me to get out of the house. My alone time today was spent in a dark, cold theater, experiencing Woody Allen's latest flick, Match Point. It was definitely a departure for Woody, but well done. I found it to be slow in parts (The end, while suspenseful, did drag a bit, although maybe that's because I desperately had to pee and kept praying things would wrap up before I wet myself in public.) but the leads were pretty steamy together. I'm a happily married heterosexual, but even I wanted to make out with Scarlet Johansson by the end of the movie. I guess any film that keeps you in suspense while making you question your sexuality can't be all bad. Hmmm...I can ask Roger to test that theory for me next weekend when we see Brokeback Mountain!
January 29, 2006 at 11:18 PM in Day-to-day with Delaney, Husband love, Vitamin C: your regular dose of self-absorbed Colleen news, Vitamin D: a (mostly) regular dose of Delaney news | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
A friend of mine is spending, what I'm sure is, a fun-filled weekend in Las Vegas. I keep envisioning her enjoying the plush hotel, the mini-bar, the spa, the dining and drinking, the gambling and the shows. I'm sure she's having a blast and I'll get to hear all about it when she gets back, which I'm looking forward to.
As amazing as my friend's trip seems, do I wish I were in Vegas right now? Strangely, no. What? This former party girl doesn't want to be in Vegas? I can't believe it, but it's true. Roger and I were supposed to go once, five years ago, but my grandmother died just days before our departure. We've never rescheduled that trip, but I know we'll get around to it eventually. But now? The timing isn't right. I couldn't imagine leaving Delaney, even for one night. I couldn't bear to miss things like hearing her try to say, "peek-a-boo" (Paa-Bo) or "patty cake" (Pay-Kay) while beaming proudly from ear to ear.
And, although a vacation away sounds nice (and one focused upon decadent adult debauchery sounds even better), I'm very happy to be here at home with Roger and Delaney. We had a wonderful Saturday together, going out to lunch, doing a bit of shopping and even making a trip to the park to feed the ducks. It was perfect and I wouldn't change a thing. My life is so different now. My priorities and my loves unlike any before.
But, that doesn't mean I've become a homebody mom who's lost herself and has no dreams, no goals for herself or for her marriage. Nope, sir. I've still got 'em and some days I get to live them out. Just last weekend we had a babysitter (a good friend and Delaney's first sitter outside of the family!) and Roger and I went on another date. We had lunch, browsed in a few stores and saw, "The Family Stone" (GREAT movie! See it NOW!). We've also recently received many offers from family and friends to babysit and we're finally ready to start taking them up on their offers. That means more dates and more time for us to go out in public together making other people retch at our lovesick swooning. That, in itself, is a dream come true. Next week another friend has volunteered to babysit (at night!) so we can go out to celebrate my birthday.