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.
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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.