When life gives you 5 days of rain and counting...

You do what any self-respecting owner of rain gear does.

Go out in it.
Because if you don't, your dog and toddler will DRIVE YOU CRAZY IN THE HOUSE ALL DAY.

Friday: walk in stroller to see what horses do in the rain (answer? pretty much the same thing they do in the sun)
Saturday: beach, complete with toddler in pack, umbrella, chuck-it, and rain gear/boots
Sunday: Mommy gets to go to yoga (YEA!) and Daddy takes the clan to the Mesa. Stella comes home wet to her core and loving every minute. Steve informs me that she was in puddles up to her knees.
Monday: Beach again. gusting winds prevented chuck it but driftwood did the trick.
Tuesday: Douglas Preserve - and Stella gets an early Christmas present (thank you UPS). I ordered her rain pants and rubber boots a week ago (before I knew monsoon season had come to SoCal) to help with the dewy mornings we have here. With rain paints, I had hoped I would need to soak her pants in Oxyclean every night because they were covered with mud. Little did I know they would come in handy.

Other than that, we made lemon flax seed muffins for the postman, played tons of ball in the house, sat on the potty,

and sorted a lot of things from one cup to another. Stella is into sorting these days. While she sorted, I was into ants. Well, more like an OCD rampage on all the ants that decided to come up from wherever they live and infiltrate the corners of my living room, mantle, fireplace and Christmas tree. Bastards. oh sorry. I know this is a family blog, but this is war my friends.


In other news, Stella discovered a new way NOT to eat dinner. When asked to put it in her mouth and eat, she puts whatever into her mouth, turns to the side, and opens her mouth, dropping her food on the floor to an awaiting Scupper. I had to be careful because I almost laughed at the ingenious plan she had realized, but then I knew if I laughed, dinner was done for. Scupper, however, is delighted with this new agreement.

Oh - and I forgot to post this picture of Steve in his most proud moment recently - the way we got the tree home from the local farmer's market. (in a stand, on the bike rack, off the back of the camper). If we'd only had lights with us, we could have decorated the tree right then and there.

The Mommy Mystique

Yesterday, I was thinking about how I felt I had to admit on the blog the newest episode of "Bad Mommy." This one involves Stella's recent introduction to foods I said I didn't want to her to even know about... and within the span of two weeks, she was enjoying all.... First, we made chocolate chip/raisin oatmeal cookies, and then for the week that they lived on the counter in the ziploc bag, she pointed to the spot and signed "more." I actually think by the end of the week, it was the cookies that actually got her to start saying the word "more" because i started to coyly ignore the sign language and would instead direct her towards a rice cake. Then last Thursday Steve won a small victory at work (WOOHOO!) and we all went out to eat... and, since it's Santa Barbara, about the only place we could afford (and take Stella to) was the local burger joint. Stella was finally introduced to french fries and chocolate shakes, which SHE INHALED. She likes "dipping" things - and usually at home we dip broccoli in yogurt. Here, she happily downed most of our shared french fries complete with dipping them in mayo (the way Mommy likes them, thanks a lot Belgium).  Then this weekend I made spritz (or press) cookies to give out at a holiday open house (which i will NEVER DO AGAIN I HATED THE DAMN PRESS MACHINE OH NOW I KNOW WHY IT WAS SO CHEAP AT THE THRIFT STORE AND LOOKED LIKE IT HAD BEEN USED ONCE!) Woosh. Sorry. Me and those press cookies had a talking to.

But in the span of 10 days, my breastfed for 14 months, homemade baby food slurping, curried lentil soup and brown rice eating toddler had chocolate cookies, french fries, sips of a milkshake, and sprinkle butter cookies. and loved every minute. So I was kinda feeling like a bad mommy.

And then I started ready this book I casually picked up at the library last week. Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box. Basically, I'm two chapters in... and regardless that the academic in me is a little annoyed at the breezy writing at times (I know, I know, not everything has to be Derrida), it speaks to a lot of things that have been going through my head now that I'm a stay at home mom. She writes that although our mothers may think that we have it "easier" in the age of juice boxes, snack traps, and disposable diapers (not to mention video monitors!), we actually don't. We have so many societal pressures that (for starters) validate women ONLY if they are mothers (as if that is the ideal for every woman, which it's obviously not) and that as mothers, we are the ones responsible for our children's outcome in life, and that every little thing we do now might screw them up for the rest of their lives... and the pressure, anxiety, and eventual guilt that falls upon our shoulders is extreme. She writes that we need to think of ourselves not as perfect, but perfectly good. As in, those shoes are perfectly good and they will last two more seasons. As in, you can be a perfectly good mom and still have a kid that has a meltdown by the fish counter, sticks broccoli up her nose, and eats dirt. (Um, where DID i get those examples from? ;)

So I think reading the rest of the book might be helpful. I think social networking and media (such as this very blog) are even to blame in some way. Many of us don't write about the hard weeks, the crappy days, the nights spent sleeping a mere 3 hours because of teething, ear aches, etc. We share the good moments, such as first steps, first ABCs, but not the worries of a daughter who still has about 5 intelligible words at 20 months... Anxious? You bet I am. But do I have to stop trying to compare? To compete? To worry about not catching up? Yes. The first week I was here in Santa Barbara, I found a blog by a woman who designs sewing patterns (and knits and embroiders and crochets, etc etc) and is a certified Montessori teacher. She had some great patterns that I have stashed away (when I'll find the time, I am not sure...) but I also read through all the projects she did with her son, the same age as Stella. There were no plastic toys in the house, only wood and natural products, she had a "discovery bin" for him each day with rocks, fabrics of different texture, found objects, etc. Naturally, I kept reading through feeling so inadequate about what I was doing with my daughter each day. Both my mom AND my aunt had to get my out of my funk. I was comparing, buying into the "mystique" of the new extreme Mom, one who seems to be able to do it all.

Today, we shared in the joy that is the beach on a cloudy day. Scupper ran and chased a tennis ball, delighting in only the repetitive motion of it going down the beach and returning it to the chuck-it. Stella picked up rocks and put them in a clean dog-poo bag, dumped them out, and found new ones to take their place. She ran down the beach shouting "AHHHHHHHHHH" with driftwood in her hand, caring not for the wet jeans, even wetter shoes, and sand in her hair. And this morning, I felt like a perfectly good mom.

It's beginning to feel a lot like...

After Stella enjoyed Halloween decorations so much this year, we decided that trying to decorate for Christmas might be finally worth it this year. Now don't get me wrong, I've never been a Christmas grinch or anything, but in our 11 years together, Steve and I have only got a Christmas tree once-  and it was a two foot tall Rosemary tree that we then planted in our yard and I promptly killed by Easter.

However, this year, I figured it was time. However, we were a little sparse on Christmas decorations. My mom, brilliant mother that she is, purchased my brother and I a Christmas ornament every year we had Christmas so that when we would want to have a tree of our own, we would have ornaments to go with it. She mailed those to me a few years ago, along with some of the ones that were my favorites, and so ornaments we had. Other stuff, not so much.

So, of course, being my thrifty self (and without a Target or Walmart to find cheap items) I did what I always do - go to the thrift store! I was pretty proud of myself with this year's purchases -  12 long strands of white and multi-lights for $10, a bag of glass balls for 99 cents, and a bag of assorted garland for $2. Christmas for $13? You betcha!

So here's what we did - I went a little nutso with all the white lights on the large front porch, and then topped off the front window and the kitchen with the rest. Today, we went looking for a tree (with a stop off at the thrift store for a tree stand (score! $6!)) and I was a little weirded out by how "city folk" pick out their trees. We went to the local farm that had the pumpkin patch and voila! No more pumpkins but trees! (Luckily for us, however, the corn maze was still up and we got ourselves totally lost. Seriously, we had to backtrack and find the entrance again because we couldn't find out how to get out!)

After the corn maze, I waded through rows of trees, already cut and from somewhere up in Oregon, and found our little Douglas Fir. It was all a little odd not to be cutting down one from the local tree farm - and even odder that we were all wearing short sleeve shirts and sandals (because it was 72 here today).

Still, after some holiday Motown classics, and a little help from my saved ornaments and thrifty lights, we have a bit of Christmas in Santa Barbara. I think Stella enjoyed sorting the glass balls from one box to the other more than anything else, but it kept her busy for at least 20 minutes, and I was able to continue a well-heeled Zygmonski tradition where the mother sticks herself deep into the branches of the tree to get the lights on the inside. (I'm never really sure WHY my mother did this part, but I think it has something to do with the fact that we always picked out prickly trees and she had the highest pain threshold?)

So here's to a little Christmas spirit, and now it's time to indulge on something I haven't the last two holidays - eggnog and bourbon.

We don't have a tree topper so I have got to come up with something. I was thinking about the holiday felt monster, but that's just because I know how to make them. I'm sure Stella would much prefer the holiday tree topper monkey, and frankly, that actually makes more sense than the monster, right?

Small Town Observations... and some Stella-isms

It's been awhile since I've found the time to post to the blog. That might tell you something about the nature of our days here as we settle into life in Santa Barbara. A typical day for us looks like this:
6:30am - Stella wakes up. Lately, she has been waking up singing, which is lovely. Her nightstand is next to her crib, and some days she reaches over the side, grabs a book or two from the night before, and looks at books until I drag my butt out of bed.
7:30am - we had better have breakfast by now or she's a cranky pants. The whole wheat pumpkin muffins are a bit hit as a tide-over until I can whip up oatmeal, pancakes, omelettes, and the like.
8:15am - Steve heads to work on his bike, and I round up the troops for an outing.
8:30am - we head out - either to the park, a hiking trail, the beach, or when I'm lazy, an hour walk around the neighborhood. Usually to see the horses down the street, a big favorite of Stella's (and judging by Scupper's attitude, his as well).
10-10:30 - back from whatever outing to tired out the dog, we run around the house, dig in the yard, pick up leaves, or swing

11:15am - lunch
noon-  nap for Stella and Scupper, not for Mommy
noon- 2/3ish: Mommy rushes to her computer to try to do her part-time UCSD job while the house is quiet. Emails fly, pdfs are proofed, and occasionally, I throw in a load of laundry.
3ish - with naptime over, there is snack and then an afternoon walk for Scupper  before it gets dark.
after our walk, I try to start dinner, but some days, that's next to impossible, unless I want to involve my kitchen helper. Last week we made chocolate oatmeal cookies instead. Much better than dinner, don't you think?
6pm - bathtime
7pm - bed
7:30pm-Mommy finishes dinner and by
8-8:30pm - I'm ready to pass out.
I think some of the exhaustion might be solved by the fact that I have the tendency to cook involved meals. Like mushroom bourguingon, or homemade pasta sauce, or mushroom/lentil pot pies with biscuit topping. okay, those are actually the easy ones, relatively speaking. Tonight I'm attempting braised short ribs because i've always wanted to make them and I never have. Incidentally, they take 4 hours, but you know, most of that's in the oven, right? I won't mention the Meyer Lemon Meringue Pie that I made yesterday just because Steve basically dared me to do it and since I've never made one, i said, sure, why not. We have a lemon tree. Oh dear. Some night, I just have to be happy with grilled cheese and soup.

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 We took Stella to the Santa Barbara Xmas parade as a way to feel a part of our new town, and because i thought since she loved looking at Halloween decorations, she might enjoy this. Mass consumption/consumerism of the holidays at its finest, right? She was, for the most part, enjoying the parade, we think, although there were some times when I am not sure if i saw the look of terror or confusion on her face. The sirens and the flashing lights on the fire trucks were a bit much at times, I think, but she enjoyed waving to all the kids on the "floats" that were magically waving at her, and although we didn't last until the last float with Santa, she loved the person in the Smoky the Bear costume from the National Forest Service. Steve and I, after seeing multiple Girl Scout troops, Elks Associations, and junior and high school bands, came to the conclusion that this parade reminded us WAY TOO MUCH of our own hometown parades, and we got a bit scared.  Coming from towns of both approx 5000 each, this would have been a typical parade growing up for us. In a city of 100,000 people, we thought we were living in a much bigger place. But when I saw the umpteenth fire truck go by, I realized, no, Santa Barbara's pretty small.

So we got through the parade the only way we snotty-artist types know how, to make snide comments at about everything. We judged the theatrics and costumes of most bands, clubs, associations, and floats. We picked on the Girl Scout mom with her 4 inch white heeled boots, the Sheriff's Association bag-piper/drum squad that had a woman playing the African djembe drum along with the snare drums (Say what?), and the floats that had themes that made no sense with the holidays. After seeing the fourth dance team follow a band (dance teams? what happened to good old-fashioned flag twirlers?) I got really nervous about raising a girl in this day and age. The amount of pancake and mascara was intense... all on 14 year old faces. Our favorite group in the parade, however, was the local "low rider bike club" which was at least 50+ bicycles strong, all in great styles and decorated with lights. Maybe we'll have to look them up.
...................................

Stella continues to amaze us with how much she understands and picks up. While everything she says right now starts with the letter "d" - she is talking up a storm, you just have to figure out what she's saying. She's fluent in most types of animal sounds, including our neighborhood turkeys and crows, and the all-time favorite, the monkey. She works hard with her spoon and fork, and pretty much has that down, save for the few unruly grapes or slippery noodles that she picks up with her fingers, shoves on the fork tines, and then puts the fork in her mouth. (She unfortunately has got into the habit of eating every meal on my lap, however. The slightest suggestion of putting her in her own chair brings a melt-down, so instead of being firm, I'm having her eat on my lap so she'll actually eat. I know this is probably not right, but it gets me through the day). She's fluent in body parts lingo now too - watch out though, if you ask to see her belly because that also means that she'll lift up your shirt and show you yours. ;) I think her favorite ones are the "hidden" ones, like elbows, knees, and neck. She also sings constantly. There is always a tune - as she wakes in the morning, when she rides in the stroller, in the backpack on our walks. She has also started "reading" in that if she sees something with letters or numbers on it, like a bag of flour, a piece of mail, the newspaper, she'll start going, very fast with as many syllables as she can muster - "la la blha blahbga gawh wh wh." She is in awe of leaves and sticks, the moon and horses, caterpillars and birds. In many ways, my transition to staying home with her all day has been tempered by getting to experience the joy of the world all over again through her. And frankly, it's a blast.

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Our Thanksgiving Day, in pictures, before we went home and nursed our colds and ear infection.....

Santa Barbara Harbor - and then the Mesa open space within walking distance from our house.

The Word of the day is "Outside"

Since the previous post was sponsored by the letter "d" it seems only appropriate that this post has a word of the day. Outside seems to be the most appropriate, because that's about where we are all day long here in Santa Barbara. In the course of the last two weeks, we have been very busy being "outside." Obviously, Scupper needs a daily dog park/trail/hike/beach/something to keep him exhausted, so we've been trying out the new options Santa Barbara has for us.

At first, I was bummed because they didn't have any organized dog parks, per say, save for one. However, we've been pleasantly surprised the amount of general "off leash" areas, or, as the locals have told me, "areas where technically they should be on leash, but no one checks so it's ok." There is a trail system in the woods, a section of the local beach, a nature preserve that is 300 feet up from the beach overlooking the Channel Islands,and a 230 acre off leash trail/hike/park that is supposed to be by "membership" only but no one has asked yet, so we are just going until the new year starts and we'll pony up the membership fee to support the non-profit nature park. With all of these options, we are out at least for a hour to 90 minutes each morning, longer if I let Stella out of the hiking backpack to walk the traill too... which most days, I do. It's more fun to watch her pick up sticks, touch big boulders, and dig in the dirt. It just takes longer to get from point A to point B. Sometimes Scupper even gets fed up and starts barking, as if to say, come ON!!

The rest of the day, Scupper becomes a dog possessed. See, we have gophers. Lots and lots of gophers.



So many gophers in fact that Scupper is convinced that he smells them out there (or hears them) ALL THE TIME. So he'll come inside, sit on his pillow, try to sleep and 15 minutes later he's whining at the door to go outside, hoping it will be THAT one time when he gets the gopher.

Fat chance. It's like Caddyshack, only Scupper is Bill Murray. And doesn't have the lisp.

Stella is also possessed, by the lure of the swing. The problem with a swing... is that you have a swing. Get it?

Here she is in her favorite spot. (also with a music card that my mom sent for Halloween. Thanks mom. I love listening to the "Monster Mash" 15 times in a row... no, seriously, it's cute... we just have to hide it sometimes.)

I'm also trying to find "educational" things to do with Stella each day because I feel bad she's not at an organized preschool or day care with other kids. (We have got to find a play group with other kids her age, I think). We are going to plant a winter garden (although we might have to find a way to prevent the aforementioned gophers from eating all of it) and so we bought seeds and peat pots to start lettuce, beets, snow peas, and snap peas. She had fun digging in the dirt, sprinkling the seeds in the pots, sprinkling the seeds in the bag of dirt, sprinkling the seeds on the porch... We might have buttercrunch lettuce sprouts popping up in weird places, but she did a great job at understanding the process, I think.

Today we made whole wheat pumpkin muffins that are REALLY tasty. (We roasted a pumpkin yesterday and pureed it in the blender. Not that you have to do this... we just had a baking pumpkin that needed to be used because Steve objected to pumpkin soup. The man really dislikes any type of winter squash. What a bummer).

Cooking with toddlers can actually be very fun. At 18 months, she's doing pretty good... usually I can get her to mix up the flour and shake in spices. She likes shaking in spices a lot. (I think our homemade pizza crust this week had a LOT of oregano from all her shaking). She also likes to eat the dry flour mixture. I have no idea why, but whatever. Here she's mixing up the pumpkin. She's not totally understanding the concept of STIR but does understand how to beat the spoon up and down, which makes for an interesting spray of batter all over the counter. She also wasn't totally into the concept of putting the muffin liners in the pans ... one per pan ended up being ok, but then when I started to fill them, she started putting the extra liners on TOP of the already placed muffin batter. Hmmm... We'll have to work on it. On the counter in the white bag there are also 8 persimmons from our tree out back. The tree is very near the neighbor's house, so she brought up the bag for us to enjoy, and included a few key limes and meyer lemons from the back bushes. (We share the expansive backyard with another couple who lives in a converted stablehouse).

I am just in awe of all the fruit trees here. On Tuesday, we collected 8 very large seedless Valencia oranges and made juice that was the most amazing color of orange-  and a wonderful rich flavor. Last week, I made lemonade from all the lemons on the neighbor's tree that overhangs into our yard. Everyone in the neighborhood has fruit trees - and this time of year, the citrus is just dripping off them... and I can't believe how many people just let them go - how could you not just want to harvest the bounty that is growing in your yard? I can't imagine ever being blase about it...

Santa Barbara proves to be an interesting place. I don't think we realized how "small town" it really is until this past week. There is no Target here within 45 miles. There is no Walmart. There is, however, a Costco, which was a surprise. There is no Lowe's. There are hardly any of the major department or chain stores that were a dime a dozen in San Diego.  (there isn't a fabric store... bummer...but there is a quilt shop with specialty cotton and a yard/tea store - um hello?? Yarn and tea? Could that be my nirvana?). There is a sign ordnance, so nothing has any towering signs on any of the major streets or off the freeway. In many ways, i think this is awesome. It, however, was god-awful hard to find a toaster. and a shower rack.

And then I discovered the local hardware store, and was in love. It reminded me of our local "Tom Best" hardware store in Delaware. They had everything - all under one roof and it was privately owned... and so busy with contractors, farmers, housewives (like myself)... so this made me happy. A toaster, a shower caddy and a bag of dirt and seeds later, Stella and I were all set... and I didn't seem to miss the $1 section at Target anymore. Besides, what would i do with the $1 section at Target if we spend most of our days.... OUTSIDE ?

(oh - and for those of you who need a cute Halloween costume fix, may I present, the cheeky monkey).

Sponsored by the Letter "D"

D = Dissertation

D = Done Dissertation

Therefore,

D = Doctor, or, PhD

D = Dog and Daughter have no idea what that means save for the fact that

D = more time to play with them!

I still can't believe that five years have come, rather unceremoniously, to a close, or, as my friend Summer so wonderful suggested to me in comments on the previous post, it's not over, rather I'm transforming.

So here's to transforming! Maybe I will finally finish the wedding present that was started 5 years ago for my friend, who is now having her second child in the next few weeks and celebrated her 5th wedding anniversary this Spring... Maybe I can pretend it was for the baby? ;) Maybe I will finally finish that quilt that I was making for our couch, which I also suspiciously started ... FIVE years ago. Maybe I will finally get the recipes in that cookbook that I bought for myself... wait for it... FIVE YEARS AGO. Noticing a trend?

A few years ago, my friend Michael called me up, after I was practically crying about how hard it was to finish writing the two chapters for my qualifying exam with an 9 week old puppy on my lap, and told me to read page 82 in Writing Your Dissertation in 15 Minutes a Day. Page 82? Why?

Page 82: If you have any choice, there are changes in your external life not to make while you're writing a dissertation. Don't move, unless you've just been evicted. Don't renovate. Don't get a puppy.

I don't remember if he laughed and directed me towards the book again when I told him I was pregnant.

So I guess five years, a puppy, a baby, and 215 blood/sweat/tear pages isn't bad. I'm not saying the thing was brilliant, but let's remember the word of the day.

D = done.

We're in the new digs...

A couple of months ago I cried (yes, I'm that kind of person) when I read a friend's blog that spoke of the help of her community and family when they prepared for a big move across the country. Gosh, I thought to myself, I can't even imagine that. How wonderful to have so many people help out a family with small children and a big house to move.

And then we decided to move. And oh the gratitude for all the help. It started with friends who babysat Stella almost a month ago now for 12+ hours so that we could drive up here and find the house we are happily living in now.

Steve started his new job here in Santa Barbara on the 18th. We did not move our mountain of "stuff" and the rest of the family until the following Saturday. Thus, I was home alone with the "kids" all week by myself. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous in figuring out how to do it without Steve walking in the door at 5-5:30 and giving me the much needed break from being with two little beings all day that can't talk to you. ;) A friend stopped by and sat on my couch so I could go the grocery store without being attached. Another friend encouraged afternoon dog park outings so Scupper would be tired in the evening and not whine for me to play when I had to finish packing the house. Steve's friend and co-worker stopped by and dropped off a load of boxes and packing tape... and friends brought dinner, drinks, conversation while we packed. Nothing like having your friends see all your crap strew all over the house and still have the wonderful compliment as she packs your clothes - "oh, this is a cute dress - oh and this? Why have I never seen you in this?" :) Having friends help you pack is humbling... and gratifying.

Saturday was the big day. We hired two people off of craigslist to help pack the truck and I forgot to tell them that we had 3 motorcycles. Oops. After they loaded them on the 26' truck, they took a picture for their yelp page so they could say they packed a truck AND motorcycles in 3 hours. ;) Steve continued through most of the afternoon putting odds and ends and we FILLED THE 26' truck. Um, do we have too much stuff? Maybe. My favorite quote from the moving guy? "Wow. I mean, a two bedroom house. I thought it would be easy. And these little Craftsmans are small. Where did you guys have all this STUFF?"

Stella spent the day with her friend Anouk and throughout the day, I received phone calls from my friend Julie about her - she had a low-grade temperature when she woke up and it steadily became worse throughout the day. All Stella would do was sleep in Julie's arms. In some ways, it was very easy, Julie said, but of course, I felt like a horrible mother that I had to leave her there until the house was clean and the truck was packed. At 5pm, I picked up one hot daughter and proceeded to find out that her temperature was 103.8 and called the nurse hotline with our insurance (that luckily was continued through the end of the month before our new one started). After some heavy duty doses of Motrin, she was back and kicking, but it's still scary to think that almost 104 is still "ok" with children if they aren't doing anything else funky.

Here was the problem. My plan was to stay at the house on Sat night and then do the "Walk through" with our landlord on Sunday. Um, slightly dumb on my part. I mean, I had a pack/play for Stella and a camping mat for me and Scupper... but seriously? Another friend called on Saturday afternoon and after hearing my plan, offered for Stel, Scup and I to come over and stay in their extra bedroom, while Scupper got to romp around their house with their dog. It's a very gracious person who offers to take a harried mom, her feverish daughter, and a crazy dog at 8pm a night. Steve, the stalwart guy that he is, wanted to drive to Santa Barbara without L.A. traffic and spent the night curled up on the floor of the now empty house with aforementioned camping mat and left for SB at 4am.

What a travelogue so far- and we aren't even up to Sunday yet! I guess the whole point is everyone that we have met in San Diego was so wonderful to jump in and help us move since our family isn't close by. To me, it seems, in a way, that they are our family - and in many ways, made moving so much more difficult. We had always thought we were ready to leave San Diego - and yet at times like this, we realize how many friends and supportive networks we have. And I'm proud to say that many of these friends we met at the dog park. Viva la Morley Field!

Anyway - after finding out Sunday morning with a "after hours peds appt" that Stella most likely had roseola and that she would probably get a rash soon, (which she did), I did the walk through with the landlord (after yet ANOTHER friend stopped by and took Scup and Stel on a walk so I could clean out the fridge), and I dosed up Stella on some fever-reducing Motrin and started the drive to SB. The best part? Scupper had been with our dog walker all day Saturday, played with the friend's dog all Saturday night and Sunday morning - and was SO TIRED that a 50Lb dog sitting in the front seat of a 4-door Honda Accord did not once give me any trouble the whole 4 hour drive.

Steve amazingly unpacked the truck (with some more craigslist mover help) here in SB and even had time to unpack bathroom toiletries and kitchen supplies and had a pesto pasta dinner waiting for us when we pulled into the driveway.

This week has been a whirlwind. Steve has been riding his bike to work every day, which I think is making him really happy, and each morning Stella, Scupper and I head out on a new adventure.
Since Monday morning, we have been to dog beach twice, two hiking trails, and a dog park. We've hit two playgrounds and a pumpkin patch. We've made homemade biscuits and a persimmon spice cake together (Stella likes eating the dry flour off the stirring spoon. I have no idea why, but whatever). The persimmons were from a tree IN OUR YARD. We have been on the backyard swing COUNTLESS TIMES. We have taken walks around the new neighborhood and said hello to our neighbors - the livestock variety of neighbors - including a horse, a chicken coop and two goats. Stella has had quite a few tantrums, which usually involve wanting to be outside instead of taking a nap or wanting to swing or eat only cheese for three days. She has been threatened that she might be an only child because of this. I have unpacked 80% of the kitchen boxes and have ignored basically everything else. In fact, I've spent the last 30 minutes composing this blog post instead of unpacking boxes, but frankly, I can't move from this chair I'm so freaking tired.

I'm excited about our new journey, but also overwhelmed at the sudden push from being a student/part-time PR lady for the UCSD theatre department (with half-time childcare the past two months) to being full-time stay at home mom. Frankly, I'm a bit nervous. I"m not sure what to do all day, and I'm desperately worried that I'm not teaching what I should or stimulating her enough. I know how to teach 18 YEAR olds, not 18 month olds. However, watching her joy in discovering a rock on our hikes or listen to the roosters in the morning, seeing the neighbors trot down the street on their horses in the morning, that makes me smile. I'm excited for the little bit of country life we are treated to each day in the middle of one of the most expensive, yet beautiful, places in the US. We might be eating rice and beans, but we get to hear acorns drop on our deck and the goats bleat as we go to sleep.

And speaking of - I'm off to bed. I think the dishes are going to wait until tomorrow morning.

I'm helping pack, right?

Sounds like a soap opera

So we're moving to Santa Barbara.

Yep. That was the chaos that happened a few weeks ago. Back and forth with a new potential employer. The weekend of the tri. And then it was over and they didn't offer enough money for us to afford to live there.

And then, they called a week later, and they did.

Um, so we said yes.

Steve is going to be the new Technical Director at the UC Santa Barbara dept of Theatre and Dance. We're excited.

And Stel and Scup and I? We're going to be rocking it out in Santa Barbara... you know, one day is dog beach, the next is the 230 acre hiking preserve, the next is the most awesome wooden playground ever.

'Cause, you know, the diss is done. Defense is Nov. 5.

And we move Oct 23.

'Cause it's nothing like handing in your dissertation, accepting a job, and moving in the span of two weeks.

BFF

It's obvious we've been a bit busy. Okay... I've had time to read a few other people's blogs, but haven't the energy to whip up a blog post. I have wanted to talk about the fun that the triathlon was -- how my daughter has started pushing boundaries like no one's business -- how our personal life has been in utter chaos and upheaval until a few days ago -- but what little energy I have left is going into revisions for the dissertation. Which is due October 1. for a November 5 defense date. Yes, really, a defense. Yes really, i will be done.... but that's a joy of another matter.

What I logged on today that seemed worthy of 5 minutes of blogging attention was this photo.
This is Stella and her friend Anouk (my friend Julie's daughter). This picture seems to encapsulate their personalities so much so that I can't even explain it fully. Stella is crying out in joy, attention, frustration, something... (actually, i think she was trying to get Scupper to come). Anouk is looking at her with such confusion, apprehension, or just plain - who ARE you girlie? I love it.

And yes, they are both sitting in swim diapers on a 4x4 on the edge of our yard. Go figure.

So we TRIed it - and survived!

No time for a wonderful recap just yet, but a teaser picture...
and my favorite little cheerleader!!
Let's just say that my younger brother beat me pretty hard... 44th overall out of 790 finished contestants... but I will say that at almost 34 years of age, I completed my first ever organized sporting event .... and loved every minute.

Let me know when the next sprint distance triathlon comes to your area - I'm ready to do another one. Goggles, bike, and running shoes, let's go!

Vacation/Not a Vacation with a Toddler

I mean, really, what were we thinking? That going away for a week with a 16 month old was going to be a vacation? That we would have all this time to chill and relax and whatever? Um. No, say hello to the little girl who always wants to be outside and getting into dirt.
Yep. See, she's even ready to drive the van!!

Seriously though, we DID have a nice week up in Tahoe with Steve's extended family. We learned some very valuable things about traveling with our little girl.

1) water and ice keep her occupied for HOURS in the car seat. Books, toys, songs, etc do not. Just give this girlie a plastic water bottle with a block of frozen water in it and she's good to go.
2) ditto for apples. Apples are awesome.
3) if you can, stop at the gas station that has the chickens, goats and horse to run around after. (no joke. Eastern California can be a very rural place, ya'll). Much better than Mickie D's playplace.
4) Find all the playgrounds in the town along your route. This will save you from running around the truck stop store and trying to get into the showers. (Eek). Needless to say, Stella went to more swings and slides in one week than we ever do here. Sometimes (on the way home) twice in one day!
5) Ten hours is a damn long car trip.
6) Sleeping in the same room is not preferred, but after 4 nights of waking up periodically throughout the night and getting up to soothe her so as not to wake the rest of the condo inhabitants, she'll sleep like a charm. And then of course, that's your last night there and you are now exhausted.
7)If you have a daughter who is addicted to water, maybe going out on a power boat is not the best idea if you want to enjoy yourself.
8) But if you have awesome grandparents and an uncle who just happens to be captaining a boat, take advantage of everyone's generosity and go out by yourself for two hours (seriously, is that us smiling? really and truly?)
9) Pictures like this make the whole trip worth it. but do remember that because she likes water so much, she will sit and play in 55 degree lake water until she practically turns purple and you have to make her sit on the beach.

Nascent Sarcasm?

Stella was up a lot last night. Not only was it about 87 in the house most of the day (ugh, why did we finally get summer here?) and about 83 in her room before bed, but she is STILL TEETHING without getting anymore teeth. Seriously - I think she has had her six teeth since her 1st birthday and since then, I keep thinking that each bout of gum grabbing, ear grabbing, screaming in the middle of the night, gnawing on anything she can get her hands on is FINALLY the next round of teeth, but nope. Nothing yet. But I digress.

She was up at 6am, thus the whole household was up at 6am after a less than stellar night sleep. Finally this morning, after an unsuccessful nap coercion at 9:15, I lay on the floor of the living room at 10:30 and said, "Wow Stella, aren't you sleepy? Mommy is sleepy. Mommy wants to take a nap. Don't YOU want to take a nap?" Stella looks at me and heads into her room. I think, awesome, she might get it. She returns to the living room with her puppy. She hands me her puppy. Then turns on her heels and back to her room. She returns again with her fleecy monkey blanket that she also tends to sleep with. Hands that to me.

She then looks at me and goes off to play with her trucks.

I stopped for a minute and burst out laughing. You want to take a nap, Mommy? She was basically saying.... here you go. Here's the puppy, here's the nap blanket, have at it.

Oh, our independent, spirited daughter.

Stella & Scupper = 2 ; Mommy = 0

You know it's one of those days when everything that you think could happen to you before 8:15am happens... and then it happens again at 12:15pm.

Case in point.

Out taking Scup and Stella for a morning walk before I babysit Stella's friend Anouk for the morning. (Woohoo! So glad Anouk and Julie are back from Montreal... they have missed each other so! Anouk talks up a storm (although all in French) and screams 'Stella!!!' when she sees her... it's pretty great.)

The walk was lovely. Still cloudy, not hot yet, I was gracious and let Scupper sniff at everything he wanted. We are TWO HOUSES FROM HOME and he spies the neighbor's nasty cat that likes to poop in our front yard. The cat holds its ground. Scupper charges. Aimee orders "leave it!" and the worn loop, that has been holding the D-ring on Scup's collar which attaches to the leash (which I have been meaning to get a new one for weeks) finally gives up the ghost.

Mayhem ensues. Scupper chases the cat into the neighbor's yard - the neighbor, who doesn't like us, it sitting on her stoop with her little yap dog and just glares. Scupper and the cat run into the pile of crap and broken chairs, outdoor canopies, and other yard detris where i can't see them. I'm yelling for him to come, she goes inside with her dog yapping, and I hear the cat continue to wail and hiss.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER after calling Scupper, squirting Scupper with the water bottle, squirting the cat with the water bottle (no reaction from both), telling Stella to hold on, running in the house to get the tin of dog food to shake to make that "food in can" sound that gets pets running, screaming for Scup to get in the yard NOW, I finally get him in the yard.

At that very moment, Julie shows up with Anouk in tow, I get Stella and stroller in house and just as I open the front door to let them in, Scup races away again and starts to take off next door and then realizes the cat is now gone and takes off ACROSS THE STREET towards this very weird/wacky lady (who i believe is mentally unstable) who walks IN THE STREET down to the bus stop most mornings. GET YOUR DOG AWAY FROM ME! She screams. SCUPPER COME! Ma'am he won't hurt you - his collar broke. THAT'S NO EXCUSE! I'M SCARED TO DEATH OF THOSE DOGS! YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE! GET HIM!

Um, hold on a minute? What? Scup comes right up to me and looks at me and probably is thinking the same thing I am. No excuse for a broken collar? "Those" dogs? Um. last time I looked, Scup looked NOTHING like any stereotypical menacing dog I know. But whatever.

Scup is in the house again, witch hazel to the CAT SCRATCHES on his nose and we're all ok.

CUT TO: EXTERIOR, 12:15pm, FOUR FOOT BLUE PLASTIC POOL
I think it's a good idea to let the girls splash around in the pool outside after their nap. After suiting both of them (what i thought was a Herculean task), we make our way outside. I remember vaguely that Stella didn't poop like she usually did at the end of her nap. Hmmm. I hope she didn't decide to do that now. Anouk grabs my hand and she climbs over the side into the pool. Scupper comes up to Stella and starts licking the back of her legs. Oh no. What does he smell?

Now I have been using these "Reusable" nylon pants that basically "trap" in poo should it happen in a pool and not the throw-away swim diapers. However, Stella's little legs are so skinny and she has no butt so the 6-12month size that she wears is even a little big around the openings.

I check. Yep. Poo. I pick her up, try to "dump" what I can into the outside trashcan (oh, yes, I did that) and put her down, running inside ever briefly to grab another swimsuit bottom and some wipes.... just as i come outside to see Anouk oh so nicely helping Stella over the side of the pool and into the water.

Stella! Don't sit!

She sits.

I take Anouk out of the pool and realize that there are small floaties. Oh yes. I figure the water's ruined by now, so I dump the rest of the icky diaper into the water, wash Stella off on a towel and put on a new bottom. Now comes the tricky part. Finding a spot to dump the water and not let Stella and Anouk back into the pool before I can do that.

I grab whatever is at hand = Stella's sand pail and shovel. I scoop out what I can and try to dump the rest of the water into a 5 gallon bucket Steve has by the hose. Um. Word to the wise: $10 plastic pools really don't have much stability when you want to try to dump them. #2: Water is heavy. What does this mean? I end up dumping the water practically right where the pool is. Great.

What's left to do but put the pool over the spot where the water (and I assume, feces particles) are now soaking into the dead lawn and fill that pool up and let the girls play. And play they do. So much splashing of water, in fact, that I get practically soaked sitting next to them.

And that my friends is a full day. Thank goodness everyone is napping now... I think Momma is going to do the same.

A Foodie?

Okay- so Stella has amazed me lately with what she will eat. Tonight, she ate this:
Hortopita. Basically spanakopita with swiss chard and feta instead of spinach and feta. And it was pretty tasty... but i thought, Swiss Chard? My 15 month old? Nah.

But low and behold. Inhaled. All of it. And a nectarine. And snap pea crisps.

Um, what?? I just hope this little pixie doesn't stop her enjoyment of tasty food.

'Cause it's going to kill me if I have to cook dino-nuggets.

Yes. Dino-nuggets.
I mean, i'd do it.... and I don't fault anyone if that's all their kid will eat for a year. Because Stella likes her pile of Cheerios as much as the next kid. But please, no dino-nuggets.

I, however, won't mention that Stella also likes these:
Don't ask me how I know. Just don't, okay? ;)

Our Pixieweight

Since the hand-written journal was abandoned around month six, this blog seems to serve as good a baby book as Stella is going to get at this point. So I figure I should at least document a few stats...

At her 15 month appt, she was
20 lbs 5 oz (only 1lb more than her 12 month) and in the 14% percentile... Our pediatrician asked if she was eating well. "For example, what did she have for breakfast?" I replied, "A whole one-egg tomato and cheese omelette, blueberries and a piece of toast." "Well," she said. "I guess that's pretty good."

Her height (around 30 or so inches?) is pretty average (53%) but sadly, her big ol' noggin is still in the 99% which means that some of the hand-me-down shirts that I love aren't going over her head unless they have snaps or buttons somewhere else.

Stella also is amazing me with the types of food she seems to like. Besides inhaling about any type of fruit you put in front of her (and i mean ANYTHING - from berries to melons to stone fruits to traditional) she loves broccoli, beans, and baked tofu like it's going out of style. Her new favorite snack, besides rice cakes and freeze-dried banana slices, are these sesame, seaweed rice puffs from Trader Joes. Go figure. Plain pasta? Blah. Mom's pesto/sundried tomato/red onion/mushroom salad = absolutely! Soba noodles with peanut sauce? Give me more! Tabbouleh with fresh tomatoes and mint from our garden? Sure thing. And Sundays, when we go on our walk across the neighborhood to pick up our weekly box of organic veggies from a local CSA (seriously folks, totally worth it!) she has to eat at least a donut peach or strawberry or plum on the way home. This week she tried to eat a raw patty-pan squash. I also wonder sometimes whether all this variety is going to back fire on us. But for now, I'm happy that she's willing to try it all. I just hope that when she's 10, she doesn't go searching through an entire plate of lasagna and surgically pick out all the mushrooms and larger bits of tomato. (who did that? are you pointing a finger at me? no way... really... um, let's move on.)

So that's all about Stella for tonight. We won't even get into how enthralled she is with water (ANY kind! Dog water! Hose water! Bath water! Shower water! Ocean water! Puddles! Her own pee!) and running, yes running, for the door to the backyard any chance she can get.

A last photo for my friend Summer - who exclaimed at my baby shower when I opened this gift from my mom, "OH MY GOSH THAT IS THE CUTEST ROMPER EVER. UH-MAZING."

Mama's Boy

So I realize that this blog, although followed by many because of the amusing stories of Stella has become some days most days, posts about me complaining or babbling on about something. A blog? Maybe. A “Dear Diary” entry? Most of the time. Thanks for being so patient….

But today, this blog post is about Scupper, our first “baby.” So I’m training for a triathlon. (Yes, I can’t believe it either, considering how much I have hated running in the past). It’s in September, so I’m half way there with my training, and my brother is also flying out to do it with me (and since it’s a “sibling” thing, my parents are coming too to cheer us on so now it’s a “Family” thing and sure, no pressure… No, seriously, I’m actually very excited about it all, but excitement only gets you so far, and so thus, the training.)

On Friday after work, Steve suggested that we all go down to Dog Beach and let Scupper chase the ball and Stella splash and run head first wade in the water while I do my swim for the day. (Friday was a swim day. See, with a triathlon, you unfortunately have to run, bike and swim and thus, training 5-6 days a week in each of the mediums). So I put on my wetsuit at the water’s edge, watch Steve chuck a ball to Scupper, and see Stella eat sand. All is good. I secure my goggles and head into the causeway that goes out into the Pacific that runs along the edge of Dog Beach. A perfect natural lap lane, if you will. Easy tides for Stella to play in, for Scuppy to splash in, for Mommy to swim in. I begin, and even though the occasional kelp gets in my line of vision, it’s actually ok. I lift my head out of the water briefly to sight ahead, to make sure I’m going in a relatively straight line. BARK BARK BARK. Wow. Who’s dog is that? I keep swimming. 6-8 strokes later, I lift my head again to sight. BARK BARK BARK. I look over.

Oh yes. That’s MY dog. Scupper is following me along the edge of the shoreline (because, although he has webbed feet, refuses to go deeper than his chest and does NOT swim). “Scupper, go back to Daddy. Go!” I duck under again and keep swimming. BARK BARK BARK. I hear Steve’s piercing whistle below the water calling Scup back. He’ll go, I think.

I keep swimming. I lift up to sight. BARK BARK BARK.

My dog follows me the WHOLE LENGTH OF THE BEACH until I finally give up and get out of the water to walk back to Steve and Stella, who at this point, has a diaper full of sand.

Workout, FAIL! is all I can think. Oh well, nice to think that Scup cared so much about my safety (or whatever it was) to keep the “pack” together.

But that’s not all…

On Saturday, we all head to a little land mass that juts into Mission Bay – Fiesta Island – where there is a nice 4.5 mile loop without much traffic so I can ride my bike and do a run. (a double workout. Ugh). There (conveniently) is also a dog park here too. So Steve goes, I’ll take Stella in the backpack and Scupper to the dog park and you ride your bike and run. Ok. So they go into the fenced-in portion of the island and I get on my bike. Scupper sees me take off and runs along the fence-line between the dog park and the road, BARK BARK BARK. He keeps following. I keep riding. I’m going about 15 mph and Scupper is keeping up. Steve whistles. I assume Scupper will stop. Um. No.

WORKOUT FAIL! I have to catch scupper at the edge of the bay (where the fence line stops) and drag him by his collar back into the park, my bike shoes and cleats crunching the whole way. Steve then leashes him until I can ride out of sight.

Oh well. I guess I should be flattered.

But I also think I’ll try a workout WITHOUT him next time. ;)

The "Lovey"

So back long ago... eons maybe... or just about 20 months... I put a little stuffed toy on my modest registry that was a "not necessary but darn it's cute" listing. My friend Dana promptly spoiled Miss Stella and purchased it. I had read in a few sleep books about the suggestion of a "lovey" (which, frankly, is a name I have never liked for some reason...) - basically a stuffed toy or blankie that you could encourage your child to attach to instead of say, your boob or your arms or your shoulder or any other body part that you end up peeling them off of to go to sleep. Get them attached to the "lovey" and then they should start sleeping better.

Thus, exhibit A: the puppy.Let's just say it's a darn good thing that Amazon still has these guys for sale. Stella has become SO attached to the puppy that when she is in a particularly needy moment (teething, tired, unsettled) the puppy must go EVERYWHERE with us, instead of "sleeping" in her crib most of the day, waiting for her to take a nap or sleep at night.

Thus the puppy got lost at Target last week. My fault. Shouldn't have come with us in the first place or i should have tied a string around it or something. Oh well. Glad we had puppy #2. Then I had to go on Amazon and buy another puppy just in case... in case she loses new puppy #1, in case they stop making them (AH!), in case Scupper eats it (a definite possibility still), in case... in case... those of you who have gone through this should be shaking your heads now going, oh yes, I understand.

The puppy tried to go swimming in the outdoor pool today, but i made him go back to bed... he also tried to eat dinner with Stella last night, but I made him wait. He almost found his way into the toilet, but I confirmed with Stella that the puppy doesn't need to poop in the toilet. Oh my. Talk about attachment issues. ;)

May gray... June gloom... July, oh my?

San Diego has this "tradition" if you will of being gray and overcast most of May and June... and (as much as I hate to admit it to you East Coasters who are sweltering in 90+ heat...) I'm wearing a sweater and slippers right now. It's still overcast, spitting rain ever so slightly - and I'm in heaven. I am more than happy if we don't have too many warm days this summer... although that does mean Stella can't wear any of her cute summer dresses, but oh well.

What that also means is that our Fourth of July was not spent at the beach, in the water, or sitting under an umbrella to avoid the sun. Nope. We were wearing long sleeve shirts. However, because I am conditioned to believe that July 4th should involve some sort of pool/beachside celebrating, we did this:
Why yes, that IS Stella in her baby pool with jeans and a sweatshirt.
Ignore our white trash yard of buckets and rags... but the bubbles are fun.
Scup had fun eating them...
And Stella seemed vaguely nonplussed.
And we did need to eat some BBQ and traditional sides... like
like Baby Back Ribs with Cherry Chipotle BBQ Sauce (adapted from this recipe - i didn't use the beef ribs - don't like them)
Or Cilantro-Lime Slaw (UH-mazing)
or Root Beer Baked Beans (pretty darn good - next time add more rootbeer!)
or potato salad and corn on the cob that do not need recipe links. ;)

and for desert? Chocolate Raspberry Paninis! Can you tell I was making up for the last few weeks of not cooking anything exciting?

And then we ended the weekend by sitting in baking pans. Why? Because her butt fits. and i am jealous. ;)