Ladies who lunch

Finally downloaded photos from the camera from last night and found these… Stella and I had a tea party with her animals one morning. She has been very big into playing dress up, but we don’t have a lot of the typical “princess/ballerina/dress/sparkle/tulle/netting/glitter” outfits common in little girl households. (Although I have been scouring thrift stores recently for them and it appears they don’t seem to carry them unless it’s Halloween. Go figure). This particular ensemble came from my good friend Ali’s mom, who found it at a thrift store last year when she was looking for costumes for a play. Our other dress up outfits consists of Christmas dress hand-me-downs that Stella never wore. Hey, they’re frilly!

I also had to share Stella’s choice of outfit to the birthday party this weekend. Again, all her choice. I chose not to fight it and just let her wear what she wanted. It’s a look, isn’t it?

And the beat goes on…

I can’t say there has been anything amazing to report lately. I’ve reached the third trimester of the pregnancy, which means I’m more cranky, feeling like a waddling whale, annoyed with the ungainlyness that comes from trying to get up off the floor after playing with Stella, get myself out of the car, walk up a hill that should not make me feel out of breath but does, and the one I loathe most, having to get up to pee in the middle of the night when there is no other reason for me to be getting up. It’s one thing if I have to get up to find Puppy for Stella or Scupper has a late night “I will poop all over your floor if you don’t let me outside” moment, but it’s another when it’s blissfully quiet and I wake up because my bladder is singing. Ah well. All in all, this pregnancy has been pretty good, I haven’t pondered over things too much, and last month, staved off a pinched nerve that was preventing me from sitting, standing, walking, or doing anything comfortably. (With Stella, I ended up being fairly crippled for a good 3 weeks). We are not any closer to a name – which kind of makes me feel bad. I though we had one a few weeks ago, and then I realized today it just wasn’t a strong name. This baby needs a strong name. I pictured her going into a business meeting or an interview at age 25 and introducing herself – and then I realized, this name isn’t going to cut it. So back to the drawing board.

Stella went to her first birthday party this weekend. She was obsessed with the helium balloons. I think I’m going to get her some when Bittle is born, because they kept her occupied for the duration of the party, and then when we got home. Scupper, of course, popped it later in the evening, but it ended up being quite a hit. A bag of party favors from the event included some small plastic bugs, which were pretty fun… and a candy ring pop. Stella has never had a lollipop or hard candy (or soft candy for that matter!) in her life. Let’s just say this ring pop was the MOST FASCINATING THING EVER to her. She cried a bunch of tears on the way home from the party when I burst her bubble that she was not going to get to eat it before nap time. But after nap time, you bet your sweet Bippy that she remembered about it. She was actually pretty good and kept putting it back in the foil wrapper on and off all afternoon. I don’t even think the thing changed in size, which frankly, was fine by me. I put it away after dinner and thought, oh good, out of sight, out of mind. This morning, she had a bowl of granola, milk, and bananas and then came into the kitchen when I was rinsing out the bowls. “I’m so full, Mama. My tummy has lots of breakfast” – oh good Stella, glad you enjoyed breakfast. “I think I can eat my ring pop now.”

WHAAA??

Pretty sneaky little one. Um, no. No ring pops at 7:30 in the morning.

That also did not go over well. I think Halloween this year might be, shall we say, interesting?

When was Christmas again?

Some of the family members have been asking about Christmas photos. Oh right. Christmas. When was that again? Seems like a lot has happened in three weeks, but we did have a wonderful week. Steve was home between the holidays, and this year, Stella seemed to understand more about the holiday season, about the fun of giving gifts (and lots of baked goods!) to other people and not *always* expecting gifts to herself. (Although the constant arrival of the UPS man to our house, whether the box was for her, Steve, or the neighbors, still prompted, “a present? for me?”). For us, the Christmas season became fun again, watching it through her eyes… the picking out of the tree, the making of Christmas cookies, the decorating the tree with ornaments basically on the lower half, and I think, quite possibly her favorite, looking at Christmas lights. Luckily, our little cul-de-sac and the adjoining neighborhood over the bridge had quite a bit, so we started taking “nighttime walks” with Scupper after dinner to check out all the lights. “It’s so beautiful!” she would cry, “Mama, did you see that one?” She learned about “chasing lights,” got excited by those awful blowup figurines, and my personal SoCal favorite, “Mama, look at the Christmas palm trees!” So here’s a sprinkling of our holiday fun, in pictures.

Picking out the Christmas tree at the local farm, and of course, the fun way of getting it home on the van.

Sugar cookies – notice the official “Christmas frog” in the pile. She enjoyed these a bit too much!

The bike waiting under the tree… (we found it on craigslist and Steve repainted it and put star stencils on the frame. She was pretty excited. and oh yes, she asked for blue.) Stella also has been fascinated with trumpets as of late (because of seeing angel figurines with trumpets) so Santa brought her a kazoo. Um, why did Santa do that again?

It was the season for hats as Scupper begs for the beef jerky Santa brought Steve in his stocking.

The remnants of Scupper’s Christmas duck. I think it took him about 35 minutes to disembowel it while Stella went for her first “ride” around the house.

Cooking up lunch for us at her new table top stove.

Off they go for a first ride…
We also went to camping with friends from San Diego. I’ll post those pictures soon.

All I ever learned, I learned from my kindergarten teacher mom

So obviously I’ve been becoming increasingly introspective lately. (See recent post below). This may be boring for you blog readers that come to see cute pictures or funny stories of our kid. Sorry. Bear with me. Currently, Stella is in the “I can’t handle you saying no to me so I’m going to lay myself on the floor and scream” phase which is not at all cute or funny. It is, in fact, frustrating and exhausting.

But with the third trimester starting next week in my pregnancy (how the heck did we get there so quickly??!!) I have been thinking a lot about motherhood, about daughters, and about how those daughters will grow into young women in this society that we live in. Not only have I been pondering their future, but also our collective past, the women that also make up who they are, their grandmothers, great-grandmothers, and so on. What type of influences have they had on the way I have chosen to live my life? How might they influences the girls? (wow, feels really wild to say that… the girls…sorry. still getting used to it.)

My grandmother never went to college. She graduated in June 1929. When did the crash happen? Yup. October 1929. Pretty sucky time to be 18 and want to make something of yourself. And being 7 of 9 kids in upstate New York, well, college was a luxury one couldn’t really afford. You can fill in the rest of the Great Depression narrative. But going to school was important to my grandmother and she made sure that her 3 children went to college. And now those three children all have Masters degrees. Pretty awesome, I think. She was also a spitfire. Even in the last years of her life, debilitated by a stroke, her mind was quick, her comments witty, and her jokes piercing. I’d like to think that Stella has that spitfire in her as well. I also know she gets a double dose of it because Steve’s grandma (Ruth, Stella’s appropriate middle name) was also a ball of energy and fire. I wish I could sew and knit voraciously as my grandma did, but I do have her entire collection of knitting needles that remind me each time I make something, I’m continuing a long tradition.

Which brings me to my mom. I am lucky in that the book “All I ever needed to know I learned in kindergarten” directly applies to my life because my mom was/is a kindergarten teacher. How awesome is that? So really and truly, even if she wasn’t *really* my kindergarten teacher, I learned all I really needed to know from her. How to be compassionate. How to share. How to be nice to friends. How to be silly. How to think of others. How to make someone feel special. How to always give hugs just when you need it. How to love reading. How to love singing songs. I know I wouldn’t be the mom I am today without her as a model. What does Stella love to do most? Sing silly songs. (Um, like all the time).  Read. Give big hugs. I talk to my mom almost every day. I think Steve was a little taken aback by this years ago. (Really? You call your mom every day?) But she’s one of my best friends. I feel the need to check in, tell her what’s going on, and she graciously listens to each little detail, no matter how small, and this, these stolen moments on cell phone minutes, keeps me sane. It’s like a big mom hug over the phone. A reminder that I’m doing ok. That I’m following in the path of a long line of women who loved their families so much at times that maybe they should have loved themselves a bit more. (Isn’t that what we do as women though?) But in the loving comes acceptance, for who you are and what you are capable of. Part of a family of women who chose motherhood not to complete themselves, but to to move themselves in ways they knew not how, and in the doing, found a great joy.

But this is not just about my upbringing or my mom’s or grandma’s upbringing, but also about how I am just who I am. Which is nothing that my mom or grandma or great-grandma really had anything to do with. Sure, my Babci (my dad’s grandma) was an amazing cook and maybe some of my skills extend from there, but she did it because she had to. And that’s what women did. They cooked to feed their families, especially large Polish ones. I cook to feed my family but I also do it because I love it. Really, no one spends 2 hours in the kitchen making only five 8oz jars of blood orange marmalade on a Sunday afternoon because they really *have* to do it. But the pressure I put on myself to always get things right? The high standards to which I hold myself accountable? The internal drive to always be doing something, researching anything new? Nope. That’s all me. My hard-wiring, if you will. Maybe my schooling had something to do with it and the constant desire to be as good or better than my peers (who were all so good to begin with, it was really hard to compete!) The arts, and now for me, academia, does that to you…nothing like auditions and call backs to make you want to be better than someone else so you can get the part. Nothing like fighting 200 people for a job that you know you could do with your eyes closed if someone just gave you the chance.

And now to the future. To a little girl who currently has used all of our clean washcloths and hand towels to cover her stuffed animals up with blankets before they go to bed, including the plastic fish in the bathtub. Yes. Really. That was not me teaching her that, I can tell you that much. She has, as of late, been found at preschool each pick up wearing sparkly dress-up clothes. That she might have got from me… But what of a few years down the road? What of middle school? She must grow into an independent woman just as my family let me do the same.  It’s not that I want to shield her from the world, but as a female in our society, advanced though it has become since my grandma’s time, how do I teach her to love her body for what it is? To always believe that women are as smart and savvy as men? To demand as much respect in the world, the workplace, the home, as she deserves? I feel I learned those things from the women in my family (oh the stories of how my mom bested –secretly and not so secretly - the administration at her school are worth a memoir in itself. I’m serious. It would sell like hotcakes.) I can only hope that Stella – and Bittle – will find their own way, with a long line of strong women behind them.

Ride ‘em cowgirl.

How not to suck in 2012

I’ll admit it, I’m a follower of quite a few mommy/crafty blogs. And many of them have either posted new year’s resolutions, goals (even non-goals), or as one blogger put it “how not to suck in 2012.” Or as she realized, making a list of things that she actually DIDN’T suck at in 2011 and how she can keep those improvements coming.
I thought a lot about this today, considering I’m always harping on myself for things not accomplished, things I wish I had time to do, things I always wish I could do differently. I think making a list of non-suckable things from 2011 might be a good thing. And frankly, since I’m sharing mine, I urge you to come up with your own. Being positive is always better than being cranky, right? (although ooooh, I am so good at self-flagellation and being cranky.)
- I cooked (relatively) healthy meals for my family. This does not mean I stopped buying box mac and cheese, because yes, I still have a space in my foodie-heart for that stuff, as foreign from mac or cheese it is. But most nights, when Steve gets home from work at 5:30, we sit down as a family to eat together soon after. This does not mean my daughter eats carrots now. She will not. But I can get her to eat a spinach and cheese omelet or spanakopita, oatmeal with raisins for breakfast (most days), or lentil and quinoa salad. We still go out for the occasional burger and fries (and she eats way too much fruit), but everything in moderation, right?
- I went to 3 major job interviews this year, and tried to be as honest as possible about who I am, and what I want. While I may have not got the job I wanted, I still was true to myself and my family. It felt good t be honest in an interview for the first time in my life. Basically, if you don’t like me for what I can offer and who I am, then I don’t want to work for you.
- I admitted early last year that I couldn’t handle things emotionally, put my daughter in preschool 3 mornings a week and saw a therapist. Admitting that I couldn’t do it all helped me immensely. Seeing Stella thrive at preschool even more than I feel she could at home made it worth it. Talking to someone once a month about myself, uninterrupted for 60 minutes was sublime.
- I canned 14 jars of vanilla plum jam, 5 jars of homemade salsa with tomatoes I grew myself, and froze tons of homemade tomato sauce and roasted cherry tomatoes. I have 8 pounds of blood oranges waiting for me to make marmalade this weekend. I had never canned before and while it’s time consuming, it’s really gives you the awesome feeling of “I made this!”
- I took my daughter to the library about every 2-3 weeks and filled her up with new books, and even had time to read fiction again myself. I am making up for lost time with fiction and it feels good.
- I wrote a book chapter, a book review, a performance review, two journal articles, and a newsletter article. I hate the stress of publishing, cry when I get edits from editors that make me feel like my writing sucks, and hate the rejection of articles. But these I did anyway, and I’m proud of myself for forging ahead. I still hate it, but I’m trying to do judge myself less.
- I survived going on an 8 day camping trip with my husband, a toddler, a dog and 6 weeks pregnant with morning sickness. I loved every minute. Well, maybe not the nausea.
- I tried as best I could to be a loving, caring wife. We need to go on more dates, but the ones we did have (aka date night at home with a fancy meal) were positive.
- I also tried as best I could to be a loving and caring mother. I may not make the most interesting art projects or enrichment activities for my daughter, but she knows how to knead bread, make salsa, and give a big hugs, a kiss and a nose kiss (in that order) with loving abandon.

This post has felt incredible selfish and bombastic. Self-congratulatory and prideful. But there it is. We all need a little pride now and then. So I put it to you – make your list. What did you do this year that didn’t suck? I bet if you thought about it, you didn’t suck as much as you thought.
And now a photo of Stella, at 6:45 am, who asked to have her picture taken opening up her English muffins with her monkey. (I have no clue why, but I did it anyway). She’s a girl who always seems to know what she wants, is proud of who she is, knows she doesn’t suck, and dammit, I’m going to work my hardest to keep her staying that way.

Rock n roll!

I have Christmas pictures to share.
I also have New Year's camping pictures to share.
But THIS, I had to share first. Because it cracks me up.

A little back story: on a particular testy part of our driving home from New Year's camping, I asked Steve to turn up the music in the van, hoping it might help Stella calm down from the incessant "I want to get out" refrain that had just started. Bruce Springsteen's "Live in New York City" album came on... and Stella started rocking out in her car seat. "More drums!" she shouted with glee. It was pretty awesome.

When we got home from the trip, as Steve and I were in a flurry of unpacking the van and simultaneously getting dinner ready, Stella asked for "more drums." So I explained to her what we had listened to in the car was a musician named Bruce Springsteen and the music was called "rock and roll." "More rock and roll!" she yelled. So I put it on. And this is what she did.

Her last sentence is to Steve, who was bringing in another load of stuff. "Daddy! Look a me, I'm dancing!"

For my mom and dad, this might have more connotations that the rest of you will get. See, my brother got a plastic red guitar when he was 4. He loved to put on my mom's walkman and play a tape of Springsteen's "Born in the USA" over and over again. He would sing at the top of his lungs, "Bawn in the USA, I was, Bawn...." I think the image I most remember is him wearing neon footie pajamas, a crazy wig, and the guitar singing this over and over again.

Uncle Mike, this one is for you.

Season’s Greetings

In straddling the divide between being GREEN and being old-fashioned, I mailed 50+ cards out to family and friends, and directed everyone here to this blog to read our annual letter. In a way, the cards were actually green, because they were recycled. (No, not recycled paper, but in fact, lovingly chosen from stacks of unopened holiday card packs at our local thrift store!) Should I even admit that? Well, I guess I just did. Nothing like being thrifty to save the planet, eh? Each of you also should have received a random picture from our year – no two cards alike! Compare! Share with friends! Swap and trade!

Those of you (the mighty few!) that follow the blog might not need a recap of this year’s events, and then again, those of you reading this holiday letter probably don’t want a detailed account of what we’ve been doing. Then again, looking back over the year, do I even want to re-hash it? It wasn’t a bad year, and yet not a banner year for the Germonskis, but we do have much to be thankful for, and we continue to relish in the small moments in our day that make us smile. Or snort water through our noses in laughter, you know, whatever comes first.

Charting the year through a young child seems full of firsts, of changes, and of new developments, too many to recount. Stella began 2011 with only 5 words coming out of her mouth, and ends 2011 talking a blue streak, so much so that some days I really wish she would stop talking. She has grown into a precocious, fearless, and loving little girl, and watching her joy at experiencing the newness and the wonder of the world makes Steve and I happy for life all over again. She thrives in the weather and the outdoor-ness (is that even a word?) of Santa Barbara and if we ever move from Southern California, will curse us until she is old that we ever did. We can’t keep shoes on her (neither can her preschool), she is a terrific garden helper (our prolific tomato plants this summer may owe much of their fruit bearing to her constant watering), and she loves climbing boulders on hikes, swinging on swings, and of course, playing in whatever water is available: puddles, dog bowls, hoses, tidepools, creeks, etc. She is obsessed with our neighborhood horses and even dressed up as our neighbor’s horse for Halloween. Oh, did I mention she’s also obsessed with her stuffed “friends?” There is always a menagerie in bed with her each night, and all of them get lovingly tucked into blankets, sung lullabies, and rocked throughout the day. She loves reading books with us and remembers the storylines so well that she then “reads” them to her animals. She says hi to everyone (on a walk the other day she kept waving to all the cyclists that passed by on their commute home. I overheard one guy say, “hey, that little girl said hi to us?!”) and joyfully announces to the public when she goes pee-pee in the big girl potty when we’re out. (She loves uses public restrooms. Go figure). She’s a spitfire, but I guess we wouldn’t want it any other way.  

Scupper continues to vie for our attentions and sneak up on the couch to sleep any chance he can get. He too has become obsessed with things here in Santa Barbara – the gophers that tunnel throughout the yard and the UPS man who gives his biscuits anytime he drops off a package. He has been benefitting from our amazing weather, our front and back yards, the wonderful smells of neighborhood livestock, and the miles and miles of front-country trails and off-leash parks.

Steve and I don’t have as many exciting milestones to report. Guess that happens when you get old. Steve continues to exude daily patience at his job and looks forward to his commute on his bicycle at the start and close of the day. He puts in a full day at the University and then comes home to “Chase me Daddy!” and “I want ride on your shoulders – now!” Who needs a gym membership when you have a toddler? I continue to exude patience with the crappy academic job market and being thankful for the part-time work I do have that affords me the luxury of working from home while my daughter naps. There was a trip to Tacoma, WA that yielded no fruit, and a trip to Denver, CO that offered a job that was less than ideal. So back at square one, we’ll see what this year’s 13 applications hold. However, I’m up for suggests on a new line of work. The time at home this year has offered me the opportunities to bake and cook to my heart’s content, usually with a little helper at my side. Stella has become very proficient at shaking in the spices, sorting diced vegetables, and kneading bread dough. She even knows the difference between the “on” and the “pulse” buttons on the food processor. Maybe we can start teaching mother and daughter cooking classes?

Our biggest thrill this year came from a week long camping trip up the California coast in August. We (and I mean the dog too) piled in the VW Vanagon for week of beach walks, forest hikes, tasty campfire meals, and giant redwoods. In short, it was awesome. And even if we were a bit tired when we came home, the fact that Stella exclaimed “we go camping some more?” a day after we returned, we knew the trip was a success.

Our last bit of news – but certainly not least… no certainly not least, is that we’ll be figuring out what the “new normal” is, oh, come around April 11, give or take 10 days when we welcome Bittle into the world. Stella will have had 3 years of only child bliss… and will soon learn what it really means to share. Steve and I are also currently wondering what it’s going to be like to have two daughters. (He promptly informed me after the 20-week, “what sex is your baby?” ultrasound – um, honey, I think wherever we end up, I’m really going to need a real man room.) We are excited and scared at the same time, but I know will relish in the watching of the development of them both.

May your holiday season be filled with surprise and wonder, happiness and joy, and may the New Year bring stability, goodness, and light. At least that’s what I’m hoping for.

~ Steve, Stella, Scupper, Bittle, and Aimee