Cool Runnings

The start of Jack's winter break was a hit (in more ways than one.) After this, we changed the sledding course to a less steep angle with a wider gap between trees...Call it Darwinism or the miracle of Christmas, but this incident made us realize that we definitely needed helmets in this terrain. It further confirmed my standing as "mother of the year."

We spent the first week of Jack's winter break up in the mountains and it was fantastic, we got there just ahead of a snow storm that left us with a few feet of snow and a good base for skiing. I managed to squeeze Mak into the same fleece one-piece Jack had worn when he was a baby (one of the few things I kept) so she was somewhat weatherized to have fun in the elements and loved it.

Jack's friends Conner and Olivia came along with us for the week and it was a blast. We always had to have our guard up because we never knew whether we would be assaulted by a barrage of snowballs or not.

We were also joined by Mak and Jack's Uncle and Auntie who showed up with a new fleece for Makena in girl colors.






This could have been a good alternate holiday picture but given the speed at which I operate these days, our friends and family would probably have received it around Valentine's day.

Is - slowly surrendering to the invasion of pink in my life...

Holidaze

There should be an award for getting two kids to sit still long enough to capture that "special moment." You know the one. The one you send out to all your friends and family that screams "we are soooo happy and content and wish you all the same." Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving because our session was a family circus, a tragi-comedy full of tantrums and fits.

Once I had decided on the holiday neutral location, the Martha in me dared coordinate the kids in hues of blue. I figured the color would work well for Hanukah, the fire for Christmas and the orange bench for Kwanza. I tried to cover everything.

It was a commando mission Rambo would have been proud of. First, I had to time it right. I had to spring the photo shoot on my cinematographer brother-in-law who happened to be visiting. I had to do this within moments of sunset "magic hour" to inspire him to do this willingly. Then, I had to extract Jack from his bedroom while he was having a playdate and change him into some clean clothes. I banked on having all of five minutes to do this, so a shower was out of the question. Last, I had to hope that Makena would wake up from her nap with enough time to change her, snack her and keep her clean and happy long enough to capture that magical moment.

Of course, things never go as planned.

I even tried to bring Tiger into the picture but that proved disastrous after his wagging tail smacked Mak in the head...

One has to suffer for art.
















Then by some miracle, the sea parted, Tiger chased after a bird and there was calm. This is the shot we happily and gratefully settled for. The message I wrote was "Peace," which is what I wish you all for 2007.

Peace,

Isabelle
No resolutions, just resolved to try a little harder to be the best that I can be.

I can chew my shoe

A good indication you might be tired is when you wake up in the morning and you brush your teeth thinking that the sunscreen tube you are holding is actually the toothpaste. Not only did I squeeze a good dollop on my toothbrush, I actually worked up a furious lather in my mouth before my brain computed that it wasn't some god-awful European licorice flavor-gone-bad brand but actually sun block. I thought for a moment that I was going to have to call Poison Control for myself. Blegh. My tongue was UV protected to the count of 45, thanks to my anti-aging Neutrogena sunscreen.

That was the final straw. I decided to start taking better care of myself this week, because I realized the hard way that my energy and "focus" batteries were at an all time low. I started by addressing my back pains and carpo-tunnel aches that were a result of going from carrying zero to sixteen pounds, as I did, when we adopted Makena. Yeah, I know, I should have done the sit-ups. Whatever. So I marched myself into the chiropractor's office thinking that I would get one adjustment and be out of there, but the guy was slightly dumbfounded by the state of my back and told me that it would take a minimum of five sessions before he could have some effect on my posture and pains. Nice. In any case, I lay face down and I swear I've never heard so many "cracks" come out of my spine and neck (as opposed to the wise cracks that come out of my mouth). I think I may be an inch taller since the first session!

I also decided that I needed to dig up my "What to Expect The First Five Years " book because after spending several sleepless nights over the Thanksgiving holiday, I finally realized that Makena's "one year" molars had come in (duh) and those suckers are big. When the bottom ones appear, I won't be sticking my finger in her mouth anymore -- unless it's to pull out a live worm -- as I did recently. It was a "catch and release" and she pitched a crying fit because she didn't get the pleasure of swallowing it.

It takes a special skill to extract theses things from her and I have discovered that she has a cruel streak and that she derives a certain pleasure from locking her jaw around my index and clamping down. If I scream, as is usually the case, she giggles with pure delight. Thank god I'm not squeamish though, because when it comes to dealing with bugs in this family, I am the spider and moth relocator. I'll even give the odd earwig another chance at love, life, and the pursuit of moisture -- but as long as it heads outside. If you are cricket and you are in my house, you are out of luck, you get fed to Jack's geckos.

Makena had her "one year" check-up at thirteen-and-a-half months because the pediatrician wanted us to spend more time with her (between visits) so that we could better discuss her development. As far as statistics go, she weighs 19 pounds and stands 29.5 inches. She is creeping up the charts in height, closing in on the 50% and coasting at a 12% for weight. She babbles incessantly, continues to point, and I am beginning to suspect that the word "dat," that she always says, may be her attempt to call out "Jack."

She claps. She shakes her bottle on command and she likes to gouge babies' eyes when she meets them. She also has a good enough sense of balance to sit on a skateboard and be pushed along for a few feet. She loves her rice porridge, any kind of meat or fish, steamed carrots, green beans and yogurt. She is partial to pineapple, rice crackers, seaweed and noodles. She does not do well with any soy products. She doesn't digest them or sleep well if she has eaten them so they are no longer a part of her menu. I am inclined to think that wheat may cause her similar problems. The doctor also gave us permission to run out of formula and start her on whole milk, so I guess she is getting the nutrition she needs, but part of me wants to keep going until she is about 18 months. Mostly because we will be traveling and milk tends to taste different in other parts of the world and I want to keep things the same. I may just put milk in a sippy-cup and see how she likes it before I let formula go completely. Yes, I'm talking to myself.

On the downside, Makena continues to be fascinated by the toilet -- which is such a drag because now I have to get those seat locks. I'm not so concerned about her diving head first into the bowl, as I am worried about the "souvenirs" Jack's friends leave behind when they come to visit. It's very frustrating. Not everyone, it seems, has been taught to put the toilet lid down, let alone flush!

Finally, she took her first three steps this week and I think that she realized how monumental this milestone in her development was because she is now determined to practice every chance she gets and insists on holding our hand for balance. She is on the move everywhere, to the point where she is starting to pitch fits when we carry her. I am seriously worried that the minute she knows she doesn't need our help to go from point A to point B, that she will be off and running without looking back. I also have the sneaking suspicion that this precise realization will happen on the flight to Hawaii in a couple of weeks. I am inclined to book Jack and my husband on separate rows and have them pretend not to know us just to ease my stress. Which brings me to another "Isabelle is penitent" moment: I was always shocked, and I'll admit, that I also looked down on people who "harnessed" their children and "walked" them about in crowded places. I thought they were paranoid. Well guess what? I'm paranoid. I think Makena's "active" disposition may have won me admittance into that club and I can't believe it but I do understand those people because I now know where they were coming from. I hope I am wrong about Makena's "don't look back" attitude because if I wasn't able to leash-train Tiger, what the heck am I going to do with her?

Help!

Is - not all that I am cracked up to be.

Foul play

I'm exhausted. The last of the 25 guests who rolled through our mountain house to celebrate Thanksgiving with us have just left. Makena is asleep, the kitchen is trashed, and Tiger is collapsed on the couch with a rawhide hanging out his mouth and bloated with gas from having been fed too many scraps.

If you are wondering where Jack and daddy are, they are in town in a clean house, asleep, and getting ready for school and work tomorrow. I've stayed back a couple of days, to put the house back together and await new appliances (pictured,) especially, the new dishwasher. The old one broke the day before T-day and was repaired -- with a lot of begging on my part -- but ultimately, I was told that it wouldn't last ten more washes.


I did two sacrilegious things this year to mark Makena's first Thanksgiving with us: I ordered an "already cooked" Turkey AND a half-gallon of gravy. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE to cook, I'm the type of person who gets excited when she opens a set of Le Creuset pots or stainless steel mixing bowls for Christmas. My idea of a good souvenir is to come back with a cookbook from the places I visit (which reminds me that I didn't get one in China!) I love food. I love Iron Chef --my sister, on the other hand, would use those gifts as a weapon and clobber you over the head with them for even thinking about getting her that, but I digress...

I've never committed high culinary treason before --I've also never had two children or twelve guests (plus three extra dogs) spend three days with us-- so ordering the bird made sense at the time. And, I'll be honest, I wasn't sure that my first husband would pull off frying the turkey (at altitude), so I wanted to be safe. I say "first" husband because he was deservedly insulted by my lack of faith in his frying abilities and gasped when he found out that I couldn't even own up to the gravy.

Well guess who ate crow? Moi. Not only did his, not one but two, fried turkeys come out perfectly cooked and delicious but my overpriced bird was RAW. Sure, it looked golden and mouth-watering on the outside, on the inside it, was uncooked and cold. There was a collective gasp from the crowd and they sort of looked at me with pity. I even tried a bite of "sushi turkey" hoping against hope that it wasn't as bad as it looked. Adding further insult to injury, the yam risotto that I had proudly prepared before coming up (to save myself the trouble of cooking in the mountains) was still frozen! I was 0 for 3. Thankfully, since the rest of our friends were serious foodies, there was no shortage of amazing side dishes or dessert (a special golf-clap to Tamara for her Yam pie with caramelized Cabernet sauce and whipped cream.)

Jack stuck to the turkey and freshly baked pumpkin bread (not made by me, of course) and the only one who actually ventured to eat my, subsequently defrosted and disastrously microwaved, risotto was Makena (who thankfully didn't throw it up.)



Our place was a revolving door with groups of friends arriving as others left and it was fantastic -- all be it exhausting. Although Makena handled it all beautifully by day, by night, it was awful. I realized too late in the game that all the festivities (and three new dogs in the house) had her overly stimulated to the point where she couldn't sleep. I spent two entire nights with her sprawled across my chest in an effort to help her. But the only angle that was acceptable to her was upright. So I contorted myself in an armchair and pretended I was on the flight back from Guangzhou and that I could do this. I could find that zen place between delirium and nervous breakdown and make it through the night. Thankfully one of my girlfriends handled making breakfast for everyone on those two days and Makena and I got to sleep in. Tragically. I didn't pack my make-up so I could have looked better.

I wouldn't change a thing about the weekend (except to have my concealer on hand and maybe serve everything on paper plates so that I wouldn't spend so much time washing dishes.) I want Makena to be able to hang with us when we have large groups of friends around -- as Jack does -- and I am thankful that she doesn't seem to have held these disruptions against me. I'm thankful for Makena and Jack's brilliant personalities and extremely thankful that I wasn't served divorce papers for dessert -- although I have been suspended from cooking duties for next year's meal.

In the meantime, I plan on having a serious word with the grocer who sold me the raw Tom Turkey because I suspect that was foul play!

Is - on a diet.
PS Makena spent a great part of the weekend chasing, Earl, our friend's hairless chihuahua (pictured above.) Makena's friend Josie had a bublebath together. Last, our friend Tony also helped her ride a skateboard for the first time. Look for Makena in the XGames of 2017.

Shoot first, ask questions later

What do you call the person who packs up her two kids on the spur of the moment, takes a couple of carry-on, and flies to Seattle for three days? My husband called me his "frontier woman" as he loaded us into to the car for the drive to the airport. That was me, Is-a-crazy, flying solo last weekend.

My oldest girlfriend, who I have known since I was nine years old (she shares the title with her sister,) was going to be in Seattle to do the interior design of a private jet for some billionaire who lives up there. She hadn't met Makena and I didn't know when I would be going to Montreal, so since we were on the same coast and I was suffering from writer's block, I decided to shake things up and take the bull by the horns and I quickly booked myself on a super cheap-non-refundable-no matter-what Expedia package so that she could meet the baby and have a visit with Jack. Seattle also happened to be where another family, we traveled to China to adopt with, happened to live so it all seemed like a reasonable adventure and meant to be. I'd kill two birds with one stone: reunite Makena with one of her China cousins and have her meet my jet-setting friend.

If I had paid closer attention to the Weather channel and noticed that they were having record-breaking rain storms and cataclysmic floods up there, I may have hesitated. If I had been told that trying to get my rental car at nine-thirty on a Saturday night would turn into a two hour fiasco as I dragged luggage and pushed a stroller with a crying baby and a sleep-walking eight year old up in the elevator and across the sky bridge, into the parking lot and back to the airport terminal THREE TIMES because every direction I was given was wrong! Only to finally make it to the airport car rental site and discover that it was closed and reading a notice that told me to grab a shuttle and head to Timbuktu to pick up my vehicle -- To finally get there and be told that all the computers were down and that they were unable to verify my reservation... To finally get the car and to have to drive exhausted into an unfamiliar city -- in a rain storm -- because it only started to rain the minute I got in the car -- I may have stayed home!

Nevertheless, around the stroke of midnight, we made it in one piece and the hotel was extremely accommodating. When they rolled the crib into the room, I had flashbacks of Chongqing just before we got Makena and I wondered how the baby would deal with everything when she woke up and found herself in a strange bed, in a hotel room, and what impact that might have on her. Jack mumbled something about "room service" pancakes and bacon before passing out and I fell asleep watching an episode of "Flip that House," a remodeling show full of insane people with dubious decorating and remodeling tastes.

Sunday was great. Our China friends and my girlfriend met us at the hotel and we walked to the public market in the rain and ate lunch and then strolled to the aquarium. I worried that Jack would complain about all the walking but I slipped him a twenty (for hardly complaining at the airport) and he spent the rest of the afternoon figuring out how to spend it. Finally settling on a stuffed Ecoli virus toy. It was a toss up between the Ebola and polio ones but the fringe is what finally sold him. Besides, with all the Spinach fiasco, Ecoli was on his mind.



Monday was spent visiting the Space needle and the science museum and Mak and Jack were total troopers. The flight home was uneventful and the crowning glory was Makena returning home, seeing Tiger and her bedroom, and breaking out into this huge smile followed by a twelve hour sleep through the night!

Yeah! I'm so glad I shot first and asked questions later. We had the best time.

Is - a- loving Seattle.

The 200 year old man

My husband loves breakfast at any time of the day, so when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday dinner the answer came as no surprise. I tried to think of various places that serve breakfast all day -- Denny's came to mind -- but I decided that Nate 'n Al's, a deli in Beverly Hills, would be more fun and would offer those who didn't care to have eggs for dinner a greater range of choices. I spoke to the (young) assistant of one of our guests to give him the directions and details for the soiree and he was speechless. He was stunned that I would host a dinner at a deli and not follow it up with a round of drinks at a bar or some dancing. Yeah, well that's happens when you suddenly have 2 kids and the big "45" is in your rear-view mirror and you don't want to cook and scrape pancake batter off the kitchen counter, let alone your hair. The small group who attended were amused and thought the whole thing was cool and original.

The evening was a hoot and the bonus: A celebrity sighting of Larry King eating his dinner. I told everyone who would listen that "this was a birthday fit for a king." I had the waitress put the number "200" on the apple pie (my better half does not like cake) -- thinking I was being clever ala "Mel Brooks, the 200 year old man." Except, in typical Isabelle malapropism fashion, I was off by a couple of thousand years, 'cause it's the Two Thousand Year Old Man and hubby wasn't as amused by my cleverness, as I was.







Mak and Jack were in attendance and carried themselves extremely well, or so I thought. I gave Jack the camera to let him take pictures (and to keep him from complaining that he was the only kid there) and I was shocked to see the framing on some of his shots after we got home. Should I be worried?


Happy Birthday, dude.

Is - a - young at heart.

PS Those aren't my boobs. Consider the picture a gift.

I interrupt this bulletin

I interrupt the usual blogging about my children to remind my dad (pictured with me when I was two) and my sister that, not only did I have a birthday a few days ago, but that I also celebrated my fourteen-year wedding anniversary (a longevity feat by California standards) and that unless the phone lines were down and are still down, I'm wondering why I didn't get a phone call? I don't need gifts. And I understand the concept of saving trees, so I can do without a card, but an e-mail or a message on my voice-mail would have been nice.

And people wonder why I have a birthday complex when it comes to my kids.


Is - getting older by the day

PS this is what happens when your family become blog lurkers.

Halloween

How many elementary school principals, do you know, have to write an open letter to the parents of his students asking them to disguise themselves "appropriately" for the Halloween parade? Ours did, because one too many moms in recent years have shown up on the playground dressed as hookers or sexy she-devils, wearing too revealing an outfit (thinking they are so daring and creative) and he's trying to put a stop to it. Why? Because the audience is fifteen years too young for this kind of exposure! Hello? Don't get me wrong, I love a good party and I don't consider myself a prude but I was shocked when I read the flyer that came home in Jack's folder. Then, I was stunned when I read the next one: "hand out Granola bars and mini carrots instead of chocolates so that we can be "healthy." In retrospect, I can see how the principal was trying to cover our mental health as well as our physical health in those bulletins. Something for everyone, just pick and chose.

Nevertheless, Halloween was a blast this year. Jack and I invited a dozen of his friends and their parents over for a bucket of the "Colonel's best" and some refreshments to kick off the "Trick or Treat through the neighborhood walk". Poor dad could not be with us. He was stuck at a Rolling Stones concert in New York and had to miss out on all the fun and excitement.

We live at one end of this almost rural neighborhood and nobody ever pays us a visit on Halloween, so we've started this tradition of having a few people over for a bite to eat before they go out -- I figure that nothing goes better with candy and chocolate than a bit of grease and maybe a glass of Chardonnay, to put you in a festive mood. So, just after it got dark, we pulled out the lanterns and the plastic to-go cups and chaperoned the kids to the street where all the action happens when it comes to the spectacle of Halloween. We're talking decapitated heads, mummies walking the streets, haunting projections on the sides of houses, women who may have had too much plastic surgery -- you name it - - a very ghoulish experience for the faint of heart.

Jack went as a werewolf. I slapped together his disguise by cutting the horse head off a costume that was too small for him and sticking a werewolf mask over it. The only drawback was Jack's size. I wanted to paint his hands and feet blood red, to compensate, but he wouldn't let me. Then, he insisted on wearing socks with his sandals. Ergo, the photo you see. Scary from the waist up, scarier from the knees down.

Jack insisted that Makena wear the bat costume he wore for his first Halloween (one of the few baby items of his that I have kept) and by some miracle, related to her tiny size, it fit. I managed to snap a shot of her dressed as a bat in front of her Fisher Price house (talk about musical nightmare) and had I had Jack's photo of him wearing it on disc, I would have posted it as well.

I, on the other hand, ended up slapping the cut-off horse head from Jack's old costume on my head and pretending to be the decapitated horse from the Godfather movie. I would post the photo but I'm way too vain. Now, had my husband been in town. I probably would have dressed as Superwoman. I love those red boots!

Yeah, right.

Isabelle

Happy Birthday Makena

I got up this morning and sleep-walked into Makena's room to give her a bottle. Several minutes had passed before my brain actually warmed up enough to function and I realized that my baby was a year old, today.

I sang a whispered "Happy Birthday" and held her close for a few seconds before she wriggled away to play with this Fisher Price monstrosity I bought her a couple of weeks ago to honor this day. It's big, has lots of gadgets and will spew out mind-numbing songs at the slightest touch and Makena LOVES it. It hasn't ceased to amaze or entertain her and I'm thrilled to be getting my money's worth -- even if I feel like bashing my head against the wall everytime I have to hear the "Itsy-bitsy Spider" song.

I watched her happily lost in the wonders of babyhood and couldn't stop myself from thinking about the other women who played a role in shaping my daughter's young life: The mother who gave birth to her and kept her for five days before casting her off to an uncertain future and, her foster mother, who spent five months keeping her healthy and well cared for before having to say good bye to her. I'd like to think that the women who cared for her in the orphanage will remember her but I'm not that naive. Would they remember what day this was?

How do you survive the loss of your mother not once but twice? How do you attach, detach, reattach or trust that sharing your heart will not be met by more abandonment? I don't know how Makena does it but I feel truly awed by her courage and resilience and joy of life. I hope that I can be as good a role model to you as you are to me. Happy birthday Makena, my fearless little leader.

To mark this day, I thought that a visit with an elephant would be appropriate and so did my girlfriend, who by sheer coincidence thought of the same thing and hired one for her son's birthday! It's funny how like minds think alike. This was a trunk show like no other. I especially like the part where my idea was free of "charge."




In the meantime, if you are as curious as I was to find out how to throw a pachiderm party check out: www.havetrunkwilltravel.com or click on the link in the title.

Pony rides are sooo passe.


Is - loving my daughter

Chop chop

I an so proud of Jack. He tested for, and received, his brown belt in Tang Su Do karate! The video is of Jack breaking a board with a side kick -- which he must do in order to pass. It is also noteworthy because it is the first footage I have been able to upload to my blog!




There are all kinds of moms out there, "soccer moms," "Little League moms," "Figure skating moms," etc.. I'm a "karate mom". Jack has been going twice and sometimes three times a week since he was four-years old and, to be honest, I never imagined I would be one of those moms who would rearrange her schedule and sit patiently in the sidelines while her child punched and kicked his way to Bruce Lee glory but I guess even I can surprise myself.

During that time, I've probably read a dozen novels and become quite proficient at Sudoku -- mostly to steer clear of the gossipers in the crowd. Don't get me wrong, I love gossip. I have a third degree black belt in gossip (which drives my husband crazy) but sometimes twenty women stuck together in a tight space can be a little intense. I feel like I'm back in high school reliving some kind of personal hell, over and over, and I don't need my karma to go there three times a week -- especially on a bad hair day, of which I seem to have many these days.

Enough about me, the whole point is that I really believe in the focus and discipline a good martial arts instructor can instill in children and I also believe that testing for a belt is good practice for keeping your cool while taking exams in school.

My eight-year old Jack is now officially three shades of "red belts" away from getting his first degree black belt, which means I'm four months away from making good on a promise that I would join him, and take classes with him, at the dojo when he got his first red belt (which is the level you have to be as a kid to take classes with an adult). I am stunned and I can't believe that day is almost here. I wish the uniforms were more flattering...and I wonder what breaking boards will do to my pedicure? Oh, that's right. I don't have time for that anymore. Never mind.

Now, who's going to watch Makena?

Is a karate mom

Let them eat cake

Makena had her first birthday party yesterday. It was an intimate gathering of about fifty friends and children. Yup, things got a wee bit out of hand the last few days leading up to the celebration when we realized that a lot of our friends still hadn't met her and that this fiesta was a good opportunity to have them come by and help us wipe the drool off her face.

We managed all this through word of mouth and a simple "save the date" e-mail I originally sent out to ten friends a week ago. One of whom called me in a panic because he hadn't received a paper invitation. I told him to print the e-mail if he needed to hold some tangible proof that this event was actually going to take place.

When my girlfriend and neighbor (the one who organized Makena's closets when she felt I wasn't doing it fast enough) realized that I really wasn't going to get around to even handwriting a store-bought invitation and sending it out, I think I really offended her "Inner Martha" to the point that she offered to make a dummy one so that I could have it to put in Makena's baby book. I'll get right on that. Right after I put my fourteen-year old wedding photos in order and Jack's eight-year old baby pictures together...And did I mention that I have two horses? Take a number, Mak.


In any event it was a blast and I am slightly shell-shocked -- which may or may not have to do with the shots of Tequila we toasted Makena to. But the best part of it all was that four of the families we traveled to China with came with their children and it was like having Makena's family around her, so that was really emotionally satisfying.


At one point, one of Jack's friends commented that there were "a lot of Chinese girls" at the party. He's a little slow but we really like him. Another friend marveled at how an American Jewish guy married a Canadian Catholic girl, that they adopted a Chinese daughter and served Mexican food at her birthday party. I think the Fairly Odd Parent bouncy I rented for the occasion pretty much summed it up. We are fairly odd parents.

And tired. How I ended up with two of Jack's friends having a sleep-over on a school night is beyond me. I handed over the air mattress from Makena's room so that they would have enough beds in Jack's room and wouldn't you know it, the party apparently didn't tire my daughter out one bit. She was up all night and I had nowhere to lie down. I ended up sleeping on the floor with her for part of the night and then another hour or so on the rocker with her sprawled across my chest and then I finally managed to slip her back into the crib and crawl back to the comfort of my bed (except my side was freezing cold) and then it was seven AM and I had to get up and make three boys breakfast, get them dressed and to school on time with a cranky baby on board and...let's just say I'm not a morning person.

Is a tired.

PS Photo # 1: The gold cat I drove all he way to downtown L.A. to purchase so that I could set it on her cake. # 2: The girls reunited (from left to right) Makena, Olivia, Charlotte and Emily. #3: Special on aisle 4! Makena helping me shop for food for her party.

Crazy

So I paraded Makena through my husband's office a few weeks ago and before I packed her into her car seat for the half-hour drive, I seriously reviewed her "presentation" outfit -- knowing full well that a "Mr. Somebody" who worked there would not let my fashion choices pass without comment. I wasn't in the office five minutes and he walked up to me, cooed appropriately over Makena, approved of her T-shirt -- but poopooed the pants. Then finally turned to me and gave me the once-over and told me how great it was that I was finally going to get to "lose" the baby weight!!! Of course, he said it right in front of my husband who guffawed with laughter (as did I). The best comeback I could think of on the spur of the moment was, "You bitch!" That man-diva stole my joke!

It's one thing to be self-deprecating and tell people that I'm finally going to lose the baby weight. It's another thing to hear it coming out of Mr. Fashion police's mouth! I told him right away that I was going to blog about this and then he told me that he would sue me. So I waited a couple of weeks 'cause I don't think he follows the blog anymore.

In any event, I have made some changes to my eating habits. I try very hard not to finish Makena's food because I got into trouble doing that when Jack was a baby. You'd be surprised how fast a chicken nugget here and there, a spoonful of maccaroni or half a bowl of congee can add up to on any given day. I'd much rather save the calories for my glass of Chardonnay. I mentioned this to a friend of mine who has more than two children and she laughed. She told me that Chardonnay doesn't cut it for her anymore and that she's graduated to single-serving Margharita bottles from Costco (they come 24 to a box, I believe) and that she sneaks one into the theater whenever she takes her kids to see a movie. She drinks it, chews red vines, and tries to stay sane... Crazy.

In the meantime, my husband expressed mild concern that I haven't done a single thing to prepare for Makena's first birthday on October 28. I was stunned. Of course, he was right. And so this week I've been scrambling to pick a date. I was going to do it on the 28th but one of my close friends asked me not to because she's celebrating her son's fourth birthday on that date (his birthday was in September) and she's hired an elephant to be the entertainment for the party. And we're not talking unemployed actor making an extra buck by wearing a mangy suit, here, we're talking full blown, full grown, pachiderm! Okay, who can compete with that?

Whatever the case, I've decided on doing it on the 22nd. I was going to do it on the 21st - which coincided with the fifteenth anniversary of my mom's passing -- as a way of including her "spiritually" on this occasion, but two friends of ours beat me to the punch. One, with a mega blow-out haunted-Halloween-kid-party in the afternoon and the other, with a fiftieth birthday bash celebration at night. Crazy.

Now, I've tried to send an evite with Mak's picture on it, but the file was too large and wouldn't upload, so I'm going to resort to an e-mail, the way I did with Jack after I came back from Guatemala. And the theme will be "Mexican" because it's a good excuse to go to Costco and check out that case of Margharitas my girlfriend's so fond of. And besides, everyone knows that a baby's first birthday isn't about the baby, but about the parents -- or more particularly, me.

That's it. I've got a birthday to plan.


Is-a-crazy

PS My new joke when someone congratulates me about Makena is: "I love it, no stretch marks!" (At least, no new ones.)

PPS I just realized I'm friends with someone who is turning fifty.

PPPS Jack is fine, except he's bummed the Dodgers didn't win the Playoffs.

Bling

I knew my daughter loved jewelry but I didn't know to what extent until a few days ago when she was crying around four o'clock in the morning. I went into her room to check on her, thinking she probably wanted a bottle -- but the smell told me otherwise. So I picked her up and sort of sleep-walked through a change of diaper until something "sparkly" caught my eye. I thought I was seeing things 'cause that was some shiny s#*t!

I quickly replaid the list of foods that we had fed Makena the day before and "turquoise rhinestone the size of my finger nail" (and I'm not talking "pinky") wasn't on it. I was stunned by its size and surprised by how shiny it still was -- not to mention relieved that she hadn't choked swallowing it. I have to admit that "choking" was last in the order of my thought process.

This being a house of boys until a month ago, I can testify to the fact that we don't yet have a collection of sparkly stuff you can paste on art projects or jewelry beads. She must of stomached it on a visit to my neighbour's house when she was playing with the girls. Ugh.

Makena puts absolutely anything and everything in her mouth. In the six weeks we've had her the most noteworthy things I have pulled out of her mouth (other than dog hair) are: a splinter the size of a tooth pick that she fingered out of the track in our sliders, a scrabble tile and a rolly polly insect -- that I chalk up to her need for protein.

She reminds me of Sunny in the Lemony Snickets books.

Also, her first official word (other than "mama") is "Tiger". When she says it, it sounds like "Tay Ga" but there is no question as to whose attention she is trying to get when she says it.

Last, I'll be careful not to mention Jack's needs and wants anymore. One of my husband's clients bought him a PS2 and "Dance, Dance Fever" as a present. I couldn't believe it. Of course, Jack was over the moon with this gift (we all know how much he loves to dance) and I was the mean mom for having hesitated to even give it to him -- because it was completely over the top. I was hoping to wait until Christmas or Hanukkah but I lost the battle since I wasn't the gift "giver". We now have disco thumping through the house. Yeah!

Disco and Rhinestones -- it all seems meant to be.

Is a bling.