banana slime spots

It started with a banana.

Orion was thrilled.
He growled and sucked on fresh banana through the ingenious mesh feeder device.

At first, he was just shiny and slimy.
Then little boy's face began to get red everywhere that the banana slime had touched.
Mama took the banana away!
Baby O objected.
He was so enchanted by this first encounter with something besides breastmilk.

Who has an allergic reaction to a banana? I've never known such a thing. Poor kid has never had any other solid foods, not even rice cereal. Makes me wary of trying more new things...things that little man is very interested in getting to know.

and just what are you so happy about?

In the fog of my too-busy, unfocused, haphazard existence, I find myself gazing in awe at my baby as mothers so often do, amazed by his unfazed joy.

And I say, so often, "why are you so happy, little boy?" or, "what are you smiling at?" because nothing so grand seems to be unfolding at the moment.

Well, why not? What's wrong with smiling for no apparent reason? I've said before...the most genuine smiles are probably the ones that noone sees. If nobody's watching, it's not a fragment of a forced bit of show for someone else's benefit.

So...what are you so happy about? What makes you smile, like this:

The unbelievably-happy-at-work baby.

I'm happy that Orion is nearly six months old and still going to work with me, so I don't miss out on all of those little daily babbles and smiles, and heck, even the diaper blowouts. Because, if anything, for whatever reason it sucks a whole lot more to clean up poopy clothes in the evening at home when you didn't see the intial damage done in the diaper.

Even though I am paid so little, at least it is all done within the "typical" workweek, so that I can take kids to events on the weekends without missing out on sleep like 2nd shift workers or people who have to work Saturdays and Sundays.

Even though it is sad that Grandma Norma is no longer with us, it means that we have Claire, Anthony and Sophia in town now. No more missing birthdays for lack of gas money. No more three months without visiting. Way more familial interaction for my little ones, and way more opportunities for the hiliarity of childhood to shine through.

do your thang

Little Taller Sister, who just turned 14 earlier this month, had a jazz band concert last night. First, we drove out to Dawes Middle School, where we thought she was to be playing...got there 5 minutes late...all of the doors on all sides of the school, locked...turns out we were supposed to be at Irving after all--6.7 miles and many stoplights away. As we walked to the audtorium, Mira wondered aloud, "where's Rock Band?" Poor little girl thought we were going to go somewhere to play Rock Band, like they have at her uncles' house! Of course, in true 3-year-old form, she suddenly had a life-or-death need to pee during one of the songs...at least it was before her aunt's group. Once Little Taller Sister's band was playing, Mira was somewhat enchanted and wanted to know, "when I'm a teenager, can I?"

I sure hope she does! It would be nice to have at least one musical offspring.

bon bebé

I still can't believe what a good baby Orion is. I'm sitting here at work, and Orion is in his exersaucer, just looking at me, smiling, and chewing on his tongue sideways. The exersaucer was given to him by a co-worker who found it at a garage sale. He has a swing in here, too, a donation brought up by another co-worker. I never imagined I'd keep him here at work with me for so long, but so far, so good. I just wish Mira's daycare/pre-school admitted babies under 18 months, because as good as he is it's doubtful we can make it all the way to 18 months without losing productivity. He's due to begin getting mobile sometime very soon here. He's been doing that thing where he goes from lying on his tummy to an upside-down V shape by extending his legs out and sticking his bottom in the air, and he likes to lurch towards things from a sitting position. People ask now if he's starting to crawl yet and I feel almost insulted--he's too little! He's too young for that! Don't prematurely age my baby--but then, wait. He's 5.5 months old now. He is growing up, too fast.

plantanitos fritos

Looks like a banana.
Smells like a cucumber.
Tastes like a potato!
Okay, so Ben already stole my tagline in a twittered message, but golly, it's mine! lol. Fried plantains. I was not prepared for that one. We'll see what we do with them next time we use them. They may look like big bananas, but they certainly do not peel as easily!

bon week-end

Saturday was an eventful day. We did a lot of walking, starting the day with a stroll over to the Capitol for the Mayor's Run, which is a mile run for elementary school kids and is apparently one of the top ten in the nation in terms of size. Torrin was in the fifth heat, for boys second grade and younger. His hair was in a ponytail, but he's wearing terrible shoes because, well, we only have one pair of shoes for him. Shoes are expensive. Anyway, there I stood on the curb, waiting dutifully like a good Mommy, camera ready, scanning the little faces in search of my little boy running down the road. Well, I missed him. I heard, "Mom!" and there he was, nearly gone already. Not quite the shot I was going for:

. It got sunnier on our walk back--we were leisurely with our exit, departing well after the sixth and last heat finished but were still home by 10:30. Orion tried on his flashy sunglasses:

Sophia took time to stop and smell the roses...er...tulips:

After lunch we bundled everyone up again to head to the powwow on campus.

The weather was perfect.

Mira really wants to learn to dance.

And her little friend from school was there! She was overjoyed.

She really had a great time playing with him. She is excited to go to his house to play sometime.

et cetera, et cetera, blah-blah-blah.

Neither Torrin nor Mira have been doing well today. Mira's first meltdown came this morning. She didn't want Cheerios in her squares (Mini-wheats). She refused to eat them, so Mommy refused to put the sparkly sequin purple bow in her hair that she so badly wanted. Then, after visiting Torrin's classroom at school for a reading event, she vanished. We walked around the whole school (fairly big), didn't find her...we were in the office describing her when a woman brought her in. She'd gone out to the playground, alone. "But Mama, I didn't go in the street!" she protested...and wailed profusely as her pancake got thrown away. She also missed out on May Day basket's after the stories in Torrin's classroom because of her earlier unruliness.

Torrin was at school goofing off, refusing to follow directions. So I had to go pick him up from the Principal's office, all 7.92 years of sobbing mess Torrin. He filed a stack of folders for me. The task initially seemed insurmountable, but by the end he was doing all right, not asking for help alphabetizing anymore.

The Festiva Project plods along. I don't often see undocumented Festivas these days, and I only have about 35 total. But there's not many things that ruin my day in the way that missing a new Festiva does. Worse, when I miss more than one in one day. I've only captured one Festiva outside our city, although I missed one driving on the Interstate. Chalk that up to a phone call while driving (I know, naughty).

I'm watching you, Wazowski, always watching...

The shadow on the left, formed by two robots and a wireless router, tripped Ben out last last night.

Oh, and there's swine flu in Nebraska. Some dude from San Diego brought it to Omaha. Thanks.

Diagnosis:

My temperature yesterday at 3:00pm yesterday: 99.8F
Blood pressure: 110/52
Orion: 15lb, 10oz. He seems to be concentrating his growth in advances in height, not weight.
No signs of infection: I'm not contagious.
Post-bronchial inflammation: I am to use an inhaler for 10 days. Woo-hoo. Except I've never used one before, and I couldn't tell if I did it right last night.

doo-wah, ditty, ditty, dum, ditty doo-rag

That's my boy!

Tired, today. The sort of thing where your eyes burn from the labor of just staying open, and when you blink, you let it linger. A wistful moment of rest, gone, just like that.

I called this morning for an appointment with the doctor, but I waited until after 9 to call and all of the slots for today were filled. For the most part, sickness doesn't bother me too much. We've escaped flu, and I can only remember once in my adult days when I ever felt too ill to function and carry out the day's duties. For the most part, if I am ill, it is only a minor inconvenience; an afterthought. I dread ingesting chemicals and concoctions called "medicine," I would much rather prefer the sort of natural medicine of a lying on the earth in the sunshine or embracing my babies. But this ickiness, cyclical coughing--voice loss--faucet nose thing hasn't ever really gone completely away over the past few months. It has subsided, but not vanished. This weekend it was worse again. Yesterday I could barely speak. I feel cheated, though--through it all I have never approached the kind of sickness where you lose your appetite (illness as weight loss mechanism). No, instead, I plug away at the YMCA with nowhere-near-peak lung capacity, not losing any weight. Where is the justice?

Ph, right--it's lying there in the corner with those Reese's Peanut Butter Cups wrappers.

the way things are meant to be

Today was Arbor Day; did you know it? Tree Day, essentially. But most importantly to me, it was a day off from work. Paid holiday, no less. Best part yet? The kids still had school.
Orion and I got to hang out at home, and relax. I read the whole newspaper before noon, which happens pretty much never.

It felt so natural. Orion, who amazes me daily with his even-keeled temper at work, was even more pleasant at home all day with just Mommy. I didn't know it was possible.

He just turned 5 months old today. With Torrin I stayed home with him until he was 6.5 months old and I began college. Mira was 5.5 months old when I started my AmeriCorps term. There's 4.5 months and a bachelor's degree between the two of them; between Mira and Orion there's two AmeriCorps terms of service and 2 years of working at the Indian Center. But Orion didn't get to stay home with mom at all. It seems so unnatural. I'm thankful that he is with me all day and not compartmentalized in various toy stations at daycare, but it's not even close to having my full attention.

We had a good day even though I didn't get anything accomplished at home except sewing a button on a pair of pants that had gone half-unbuttoned for the past couple of wearings. I attempted to vacuum but couldn't figure out how to empty the cat fur out of the cannister. Bless him, Ben does most of the vacuuming but it also means that he is the one who better knows how to operate the darn thing. I have the instructions--buried in a pile of papers six months high that needs filing. The carpet was so encrusted with fur that I didn't even want to lie the baby down so I could start sorting. Alas, if only I had every Friday off, maybe I'd get somewhere...

Now, it's bedtime. We're playing Dance Dance Revolution. It's never been at our house before; this game system belongs to the library. Orion put himself to sleep in Ben's arms, gnawing on his green bandana. It's been bringing him great joy all evening.

Under the Table and Dreaming

This title works if you're Orion and sleep under Mommy's desk at work all week!

Speaking of sleeping beauties, here's my little girl looking rather gargantuant:

It's BEAUTIFUL outside. About 80 degrees Fahrenheit. This is how I love it. Now if only I were sitting on a blanket in a green grassy field, with a gossip magazine, a churro, and horchata to drink, that'd be just about perfect. Beverage and snack negotiable. The tulips shown below are from our backyard, sitting happily in my office window.

It's only driving if it's a manual transmission.

This?
Is not driving. It's maneuvering a vehicle. But it sure was nice to be able to transport all of the kids safely and legally at one time. (That and, you wouldn't catch me driving an American vehicle if I had anything to do with the choosing).

Visual Treats

Return of the toe:

No, Torrin doesn't need glasses...yet.
Here, on Easter Sunday, with his Aunt Joyce's specs.
I think they look pretty good.
Little Miss Easter herself. She has an armchair cover on her head. Fits perfectly, like a veil.
And Mr. Spring Breeze himself, our little Orion, who loves to be outside, on Tuesday evening, down the block from our house.

A Moment Stolen

Or, "Why I haven't checked in lately"

I left work at 3:57pm yesterday for a committee meeting starting at 4:00pm at my son's school. Luckily it is only about 2.5 miles away; 7-8 minutes by car. Upon leaving, I had:
--attended 1 staff meeting
--no intern showed up, because his truck wouldn't start
--4 tax returns completed
--4 unresolved income tax returns waiting for their owners
--3 packages of diapers that had not been picked up from the church
--3 diaper orders to call in
--1 unresolved rental assistance inquiry
--15 unanswered voicemails
--not completed redesign of food programs application form
--not completed new volunteer ID badges
--14 client files awaiting database entry and confirmation letters needing to be written, printed, and mailed to those clients
--not a single bathroom break (I needed to go potty!)
--no time to check e-mail
--no chance to drink my daily afternoon Coke (a necessity!)

Thank goodness Orion is such an easygoing, friendly baby! He did a lot of sitting around and hanging out yesterday.

Smile, toes, smile! ओं यौर फीट

Don't ask.

Chillin' at work

Mira changing Orion's diaper in his under-desk in-office cave

Happy baby. At, of course, work. Wow, we need to get a life.

Oh, wait, Torrin did that for me. He arranged himself a babysitter tonight. Here I was, looking forward to going to bed, and Torrin insisted on our leaving. We went to the Coffee House and saw I Love You, Man. The babysitter? A college student whom we had not previously met. Torrin Facebooked him. He's a volunteer at the place where Torrin, Anthony, and Sophia go to after- and out-of-school programming, so it's not quite as weird as it sounds.

6!

I now have so many more babies to report on and so much less time in which to do it!
Littlest sister Sophia turned 6 today. Her ChuckECheese-a-thon arrives on Sunday. Today she got six candles mushed into a bowl of strawberry banana ice cream.

Two Warnings for the Fair-Minded

1. Singing along to your fave 80s synth-pop jams will make a coughing-congested-croaking-frog-in-your-throat squawk in pain.
2. When your hair sprawls past your waist a ponytail is not sufficient to prevent the seat of the rowing machine from attempting to devour said ponytail.

2 weeks, no post.

what's up, what's down, what's all around?

I don't know. This baby of mine, though, is 3.5 months old and he has gotten altogether too big already. Growing like a weed, a tall, skinny weed. With fab baby chubba-cheeks.

It's still tax season, so a sliver of my scarceness can be attributed to that, along with the chiseled-off-portion that has managed to get to the YMCA a handful of times for some much needed, much wanted decompress-destress chill 'n workout time. We still have a housefull much of the time also, although the 13-year-old sister has been preferring to stay elsewhere. Somehow PGG, Poppyseed, my mother and I weaseled our way out of the house leaving 4 bigger kids (Mira, 3; Sophia, 5; Torrin, 7; and Anthony, 9 under the charge of a friend of mine while we went to an art showing deal and other assorted festivities.

Speaking of things Festive-ish, I've missed two good Festiva opportunities this past week. One was white with a gray swoosh and a big delivery-dude-type-sign attached to the car with a sizable metal pole; the other was white and just waiting for me to snap its picture in traffic but I had forgotten my memory card at work. *sigh* And I'm still kicking myself over missing Santa Claus (or rather, a large white-bearded guy) traveling in the opposite direction in a Blue Festiva. So far, we have 32 individual photographed Festivas. More to come on those later.

le jour de mardi gras (avec un enfant)