Green...

I have thought a lot about sharing my thoughts about this - but figured hey, I guess those of you that still read the blog may understand that it's typical Aimee - honest and as usual, maybe a bit too blunt. But it has been something I've been pondering over the last few months.

You see, I'm think I'm jealous of people who don't have kids. Not jealous all the time, mind you, but a wee bit jealous. I think these feelings have started after observing our neighbors. We live on a large property where we have the house in the front, and our neighbors live in the converted stable house in back. Mind you, because the land parcels are big out here in "rural" Santa Barbara, I think their house is farther away than any of our neighbors back in San Diego, including the ones who lived across the street. For the first few months here, we kept apologizing about Scupper barking at them each time they went to their car in our shared driveway or said hi when we were swinging Stella on the swings. I think we were both trying to respect each other's privacy. However, after Christmas, I finally decided that we needed to have them over for dinner, or hell, at least lunch, and have tried to make more of an effort to be neighborly. They are our age, and until recently, the woman worked from home. So we gingerly struck up a relationship, and now we've started running together 2-3 mornings a week, and share recipes, leftovers, and gardening tips. Her husband is a lot like Steve, in the fact that he's a bit quiet around other people, and does his own thing. But my growing relationship with D. has been nice - like me, she's the more outgoing of the couple, and is into thrift stores, finding good deals, shopping the bargain bread rack at the grocery store, etc.

However, I have found myself, as of late, watching her come and go, and the freedom associated with that, with a bit of jealously. She comes home from work and gardens in the yard until the sun sets. Her and her husband hop in the car some nights at 9pm, presumably to meet friends, catch a late bite to eat, even play racquetball, she told me. Maybe it's because we don't indulge in babysitting often or the fact that we have no family here to which we could share Stella with for a few hours to run out by ourselves, but I  miss the freedom that comes with not having children or pets.

And yet, as I snuggled my daughter against my chest last night, breathing the lovely scent of fresh washed hair, listing to her gentle breathing, I couldn't imagine how my life would be without her. I had such joy watching her play in rain on Sunday... watching her send air kisses to the neighborhood horses on our walk yesterday, marveling at the utter happiness on her face to see the nearby farm's pig and goat... taking pride at the fact that she ate almost all her quinoa and broccoli stir fry last night with a fork (and tried a bit with chopsticks!) Experiencing the world anew through her nascent eyes has brought such happiness to me that I'm not sure why at times, I stare wistfully out the window wondering what it might be like if we had never decided to have kids.

As with everything, I'm sure that this is "just a phase..." That the exhaustion of parenthood ebbs and flows. That the need for "Mama" almost 24/7 will disappear and I will feel a loss. I think these honest feelings about motherhood could be why I don't seem to meet people on the playgrounds... where I see a mother with 3 kids under 5 and say, wow, how do you do it? she smiles sweetly back, why, it's a joy, or it's not hard... I wonder if she's really telling the truth, or if she's figured something out that I don't know.

On happier note, Stella is talking up a storm - and sometimes we understand her and sometimes we don't, but the words are coming much better than a month ago. Open is still "be-pen," moon is still "loon," and home is still "moam" for reasons we aren't sure, but damn if she can't say "cream cheese." At least her priorities are in the right place. ;)

Brown can do it...

Or something like that. I can't remember what the UPS slogan is because we don't own a TV, and they don't air ads during Hulu watchings of Glee. That's not the story though... this is about our dog.

Scupper, for those of you unacquainted -- although I guess that's stupid because most of you HAVE met Scupper at one point or another -- is a barker. We have no idea what part of him is that (maybe terrier?) but he's a barker. At everything. At us when we come home (bark bark! they are home! i love my family!), at anyone that comes to the door (bark bark! who are you? what are you doing on my porch?), to anyone walking by the house (bark bark! who are you? what are you doing on my street where i can see you?), to weird people on the beach (bark bark! you have a cane! i'm confused!), to his own butt (bark bark! i have a piece of grass stuck in my butt!) Needless to say, this is gets old. It's been old. In fact, it's so old, it's ancient. But we put up with it because he's a loving dog. It just annoys the heck out of us.

In his normal barking habits, he's taken to barking at the mail lady if he's out lounging in the yard and of course, the UPS man. We get diapers delivered from Amazon (b/c there is no Target in SB, kids) and the UPS faithfully brings them every 8 weeks when Stella is just about out. He learned very quickly we have a dog who is usually lounging outside in the mornings and he gives Scupper the largest Milkbones I have ever seen, drops off the box, and heads back out to the truck before Scup can bark too much or jump on him with dog licks. Lately, Scupper has been barking when he drives by, so last week, I saw him stop, deliver a package to the next door neighbor, heave a Milkbone over the fence, and hop in his truck.

Today - he drove by, Scupper barked, he slowed down ever so slightly, threw a Milkbone out the UPS truck door, and kept on driving.

I have got to get his name and send him a thank you. Above and beyond the call of duty, eh?

Scupper is also addicted to playing soccer. But that's a story for another time. And best be sure, it involves barking. (bark bark! do you see that ball? yes, that ball? Ball! Kick it! now! To me! bark bark!)

On her own terms...

Stella has been "diagnosed" with an Expressive Language delay. We are into week 2 of speech therapy - and luckily, it is all being arranged and covered by a state agency located here in SB. It seems that she was above her age range in the other development tests - motor skills, cognition - and even "receptive language" - i.e. she understands just about everything. She just doesn't/can't put it into words. However, since her first evaluation, she's definitely been getting better. This past week, she finally began to say "Mama" with the intent of calling or naming me... whereas before it was merely a moniker without a home. I think it's pretty damn cool. (I'm sure this will wear off soon after the ump-teenth "Mama" when she's in need of something).  Yesterday, during her session, she refused to say "moo" or "cow" and instead began hiding under a blanket and playing peek-a-boo. I don't envy our therapist. She kept trying to elicit responses from Stella for various objects to no avail. Stella rolled around in my lap and ignored her. When the therapist assume Stella's attention was just gone for the day, Stella turned to my shirt - and pointed to the various colored origami shapes and started saying "Lellow." "Bue." "Pink." "Geen." The therapist looked at me astonished (and frankly, I was too because she was 1) talking understandably and 2) getting the colors right.) She then suggested that Stella will have to come to speech therapy on her "own terms" and we'll just have to keep inventing new ways of making it fun for her. Otherwise, she just decides that it's not worth it, and won't talk. Ah, our little independent girl.

She also thinks that hot pads make awesome slippers. Go figure.