Acres of Books Is Under Attack

Acres of Books, that Long Beach landmark, is under attack by the City of Long Beach, which seeks to tear it down and redevelop that block. You can sign petitions here.

You can read more about it at The District, the newish LBC weekly paper.

F*ck redevelopment. That's bullshit.

Long live Acres of Books.

If Love is A Red Dress...

Why does it have to be so hard...and the world is on fire.

So, we have a new car seat. Peanut is a happy kid now; she has room to stretch and squirm happily. She used to cry EVERY time she was placed in her car seat. Now she cooes and makes happy raspberries. So, I hope the ridiculously expensive seat is really worth it, but so far it seems as if it is so.

I promised in my last post to discuss the child care debacle, so here goes. We interviewed for day care in July, because I had to go back to work in August. We met with the woman, I'll call her Ms. D___. She seemed mellow and nice. She'd been licensed for over 10 years and she seemed to really care about the kids. There was an unstructured feeling at her home, which we liked, since we wanted to have Peanut in a place that felt like a home, not an institution.

Then it began to go wrong.

Ms. D___ took Peanut with her to get fast food. She'd never mentioned taking our daughter anywhere in a car. She acted as if we were crazy for being unhappy about this.

Ms. D___ had people dropping in and out of her house all the time.

Ms. D___ put Peanut to sleep in a small pack-n-play on a pillow- on her tummy. That's how SIDS happens- at least it becomes more likely. When mentioned by us, she acted as if we were being silly and overprotective.

Finally, Ms. D___ gave me papers to tell me that the State of California had found her liable in being negligent in a child breaking his leg at her home while in her care. She then tried to cast aspersions on the child's mother, as if bad parenting caused the accident, somehow. The same papers stated that there were allegations that people were drinking at her house while children were in her care.

So we took Peanut out. We scrambled to find care for her. My sister, my step mother, friends, flexible scheduling at work... We managed to juggle it all for two weeks.

We finally ended up with two interviews. A chain of childcare providers that I'll call "KinderScare" and Mrs. H___, a grandma that takes care of a friend's child.

"KinderScare" was AWFUL. I've never been to a Romanian orphanage, but that is close to what I pictured. A three month old baby lay on the LINOLEUM floor crying while a staffer stood over her, chatting with another staffer. My husband said in the car that he was getting so stressed out that he nearly picked up that baby. Peanut didn't smile the entire time we were there. Neither of us could picture leaving her there- I'm sure that it is generally a safe place, but so completely clinical that I couldn't imagine it not impacting Peanut's social development. I would quit my job before leaving her in a place like that.

Then there was Mrs. H___. She wanted to cuddle Peanut right away. She had pictures of her grandchildren all over. She has a big backyard and a sweet chocolate lab. Her grandaughter and my friend's child were playing happily in the backyard with the dog keeping a watchful eye on them. It seemed just right.

And now we have Mrs. H___, who is a kind grandmother who has watched a friend's two children since their infancy. She always wants a last hug with Peanut everyday. And Peanut smiles at her in the way that she smiles at all of her grandmas. So all is well once more in Peanut-ville.

Except the part about half of Southern California being in flames. My throat is raw from all the smoke- and I was inside all day, except for when I was walking from buildings into my car. Our house smells like burning. We are miles from the fires, but the Santiago Canyon fire looked like hell when I drove south to work this morning. I was driving along, towards the bank of smoke obliterating the sunrise this morning and I just thought, why am I driving TOWARDS it? It is just such a nonsense thing to do, don't you think? You're supposed to flee, or something.... Right?

28 and a Quarter...

Inches long. M was 21 and a half inches long when she was born. So she has grown almost 7 inches in 6 months. She's tall for her age.

The fun part? Now we need a new car seat. Because hers is for babies up to 29 inches long. Yep, I thought we'd get to keep it for a year, but I was wrong.

So, a new car seat. I think I want this one:
The Britax Marathon Car Seat. Ok, so it is very expensive. But it should last us through a couple of kids and until about 65 lbs worth of kid. And I do have a coupon. And it's on sale. And....

And it is pretty cute.

It does cost a little more than half what my first car did, though. I could buy her a little more than half a 1981 VW Rabbit of her own for the price of this seat. Weird, huh?

Anyhow, we've been dealing with the aftermath of our flaky childcare lady and the resulting State of California investigation (which I will blog about soon, as it is so much trauma and drama), and now we finally have a replacement that was recommended to us by a friend and that costs HALF what the flaky lady did. So yay, we can swing the expensive seat.

And I am reading an excellent book (on my breaks at work- who knew that would be the only time I EVER have to read anymore?)- John Irving's "A Prayer For Owen Meany". I'm not through yet (at this rate I should be done around M's birthday).

I have also decided that I am just going to call M what we call her at home: Peanut. I am aware it is about the least original nickname, but I have never been a nickname gal. She's just our little Peanut, though.

Oh yes, friends who have e-mailed me- I will be writing you back this weekend- I promise! I will do it even if I have to sacrifice blankly staring at the wall while the baby naps!

My First Museum

So M is so very cultured. She went to her first museum, the Zimmer Museum, with our friend V and his four year old, F. M had sooo much fun, even though she's too little for everything. She squealed and blew constant raspberries at all the bright colors and the children. I think it was probably the most fun she's ever had in her life so far. Pretty cool. Here's M playing with the challah table.

Here's M and her Papa.


Here's V and M having fun together, too.

So many fun things at the Zimmer. M had a blast. She was so happy she cooed all the way home. I really think that was the best day ever for her.

Bleh

I feel so bleh. My back is killing me, I am still getting over the plague that my inlaws gave us (um, thanks), and the baby decided that the past three weeks (my first three weeks back at work) would be a great time to STOP sleeping through the night. Except on weekends, when I could potentially sleep in. Sigh.

So I am sitting here, waiting for the tylenol to kick. Woo. Party. Excitement. What else would I do on Friday night?

A Big Pile of Suck

Ok, so I'm going to preface this by stating that I do not advocate brunk dlogging. I mean, ha ha, drunk blogging.
But even so.
Teeth.
Not my teeth. They are, knock on wood, fine.
M's teeth. Or, to be more specific, her little gum nubbins where teeth shall someday be.
We did not make it to bed until 5:30 AM yesterday. We slept until 8 AM. Then we got up, so as to enjoy the 89 degree weather more completely. Oh, yes. 89 degrees AND teething.
Blargh.
Double blarcgh-blargh.
So, thanks to the Fisher Price Jumperoo (I wish they made them for grownups) and some Baby Orajel, we have a temporary detente between the teeth and M. It is a fragile truce.
The wine is making me warm.
I just read my friend's blog where I am linked below Alternadad. She makes me feel so much cooler than I am.
So here's my Alternadad-type moment for the week:

...a funny thing that R said to me today when the baby had a cat hair stuck to her face:

"oh, she's got a kitty pube on her cheek..."

I said, "Eww, it's just a cat hair..."

he said, "how do you know?"

Ack.

Sleep.....

Um. I'm still awake. As if I am waiting to hear the baby wake up. It was 91 degrees today. Right now it is supposed to be 73 degrees. Baby hates the heat. Baby can't sleep. Mama can't sleep.
Global warming sucks.
I blame the Bush administration. Everything else is their fault, so why not this? I live 1/4 of a mile from the ocean. 91 degrees just isn't right.
Well, at least the forecast for tomorrow is only 87 degrees. That's downright comfy.
Blech.
I have to go back to work next week. I'm going to be waking up at 4:30 AM to feed the baby and get ready for work. Baby thinks that we should stay up until midnight every day.
Did I mention that it was 91 degrees today? I want to move somewhere with reasonable weather.
I'm going to test the kid and try to go to bed...

Why English Class is Important...

I know everyone has the little things that bother them. I work at a credit union, so the phrase "checkings account" bugs the absolute hell out of me. IT IS NOT PLURAL!!!!! Ack. Anyhow, at my hubs job, there are a few Grammar Offenders that come up with some doozies.

So. You know the word "scapegoat"? Overheard: "You know, I hate it when my boyfriend tried to make like I'm his escape goat..." Can't you just picture it? A stealth goat that is used to escape dangerous situations? He'd probably need a goat sized mask. Maybe even a cape...

One gal thinks that the word "remind" means "to tell you something for the first time". As in, "I need to remind you that this is our new policy that you've never heard of before"- she thinks that is how you use it.

Another one- instead of condescending- condomsending. Uh, yeah. I'll leave it alone.

So Lame...

Ok, so Wired.com has an article about how geeks make the best lovers. So I have no real argument with the statement- it is so immaterial to me, anyhow, but the reasons they listed are so stupid. One of them is actually "Geeks understand multi-dimensional relationships". I mean, LAME. Geeks may be the best lovers but not because they "understand multi-dimensional relationships."

Ack. I need to get some sleep.

Randomness...

So... I just got some spam e-mail with the subject beginning, "Hope or Lightheadedness..." Doesn't that so completely sound like an album title or a novel title? Craziness.

Sigh....

Summertime...

And it is getting hot. I always seem to forget how quickly the pleasant May weather (mid 70's, nice ocean breezes) evolves into that back of the leg sweat kind of hot- you know the kind, when your jeans actually start to stick to your legs, or if you're wearing a skirt, the sweat just drips down the back of your legs....
Anyhow, this past weekend I went up to Highland Park to the Oilcloth International sale (next one is in November), and it was just HOT. I was sweating and carrying M around was so warm. It made me remember the weekend last year that I found out I was pregnant with M. I was in Highland Park, visiting my friend and her husband, who had recently found out that they were expecting. She teased me that I was probably preggers too, since I kept sucking down water and peeing constantly. I thought to myself, hmmm. I suppose I could be..., as I stood in their kitchen with sweat dripping down my legs and soaking the heels of my cork espadrilles.
So, the sale was relatively successful, though I thought the selection wasn't as good as last years'. I still managed to part with a few dollars.
The interesting part, though, was that as I was walking from the porch of my friends' bungalow into their living room, I got stung by a bee. Now, I suppose the more outdoorsy stypes are totally unimpressed by this, but I have somehow made it to my late twenties without being stung by anything. I felt like maybe my diaper bag's corner was stabbing me in the arm, so I looked down and there was a BEE on my arm. I have a serious phobia about flying inspects in general, although honey bees have actually never been on the list before. I was holding M in her carseat, so I finally managed to flick it off of my arm and get into the house. I closed the door, and asked my friends- what do you do to get the stinger out? I was never a girl scout, and I have never earned any sort of outdoorsy knowledge contest. I Google, therefore I am. I just know how to look things up online- so when I have no laptop in front of me, I become basically an idiot. I called R at work and asked him, since my friends didn't seem too sure. R was a boy scout, so he probably had earned a badge for something like this in his childhood. He told me it didn't matter how you get the stinger out- just to do it fast. I borrowed a pair of tweezers and pulled it out, then cleaned it with an alcohol swab. I watched it for an hour to see if I developed any kind of crazy reaction (just a dime sized welt and a red splotch on my arm around the area) and put on a Strawberry Shortcake bandaid on it.
I mean, I am running up on thirty- doesn't it seem possible that I should have been stung earlier- like when I was a kid running around playground in the spring time? Barefoot, for crying out loud? Not just walking into the house! That just seems lame.
Writing this down makes me somehow remember when I was in fourth grade, our house became home to a colony (is that the right word?) of carpenter bees. They made a nest (hive?) in the corner of our roof that met at an angle, and my mom had to pay some guy to trap them inside with a metal mesh thing. The trouble came when they found their way out through our attic into the only was out they could find- the small crack between the top of our kitchen ceiling fan and the actual ceiling. My friend, S, who I've mentioned just caught up with me via Google, and I were sitting at the kitchen table doing something together when a half dead carpenter bee fell onto the middle of table, writhing with I am sure the agony of being halfway torn apart in the act of pushing through the crack. It was completely terrifying. We screamed and ran, and I suspect my grandmother must have been the one to seal up the ceiling and dispose of the bee, because I don't remember anything else happening...
Odd, then, that my phobia of flying insects is restricted to moths, butterflies (they are really just fancy-colored moths), and grasshoppers. Yuck. Even typing the g-word gives me the willies.
Well, I have to run and get things done before M wakes up. I should probably peel off my Strawberry Shortcake bandaid and get moving.

A Funny Thing Happened to the FCC

I love Mark Morford.

Melty Melty Goes My Heart

So M can now make raspberries in response to my raspberries. Awwww. And she can suddenly hold her head up like, way high during tummy time. She's growing up so FAST! Next thing you know she'll be writing how much she hates me in her diary. Which will be on some sort of electronic gadget I'll be too dumb to understand. Sigh.

Ok, so Bobby Brown has problems. I don't really think that Osama is his main one, though...

I'm excited- I'm going to the oilcloth sale in Highland Park this weekend. Yay! Cheap stuff! I'm gonna get me some stuff, wholesale and even cheaper! Check out some of the stuff that this company makes for Land of Nod: splat mat, bibs, aprons...

Last summer at their last sale, I got a few bibs (all very cute- I gave away some as part of a shower gift) and a KitchenAid Mixer cover. So cute- it has strawberries on it, and it keeps the dust and schmutz off my mixer. This time I want to get a few cosmetic bags with zippers to use for Peanut's diaper bag- for her spare outfits and one for dirties. And I have small diaper packs in the stroller baskets, which I would like to put into oilcloth bags. Also one for my Hooter Hider would be handy. I also want to get a couple of splat mats, if they have any. If not, then I think I'll buy some yardage to make my own. We have crappy wood floors that don't need to get any more crappy, and the splat mats are cool for picnics and for crafts, too. I mean, once M can sit up on her own and eat solids. Eventually. :)
I am excited about the fun stuff they are gonna have, which is OMG so cheap. I need to resist the cute aprons- they almost got me last time. But I have a ton of aprons and the only one I ever actually use is the red Williams Sonoma one I got for my anniversary from my aunt- it is so thick and lovely and washes up so nice. Also good for baby bath time, actually. You can see what kind of stuff they make on their website, OIlcloth.com. Click the "Sewn Products" section to see pics of their goodies. Which reminds me, I want to get a couple of totes to add to my reusable grocery bags supply. It's funny, but at the healthy organic markets (like Trader Joe's) the baggers always smile at your reusable canvas bags. At Stater Brothers, they just look at you like you're annoying and should bag your own shit if you want to use hippy bags. Well, it's late (as always) and I think I need to make my way to bed.

Deep in the Heart of Texas....

Is a town called Bullard where we might end up moving if R's job ends up there. I could be a stay at home mom, which would be cool. BUT.....In FREAKING Texas. I am an atheist liberal nut job. I hate guns. I hate the President and all his nonsense. So.... Texas? Yeah, Texas.

Ack.

I gotta look into a pickup truck that'll fit a car seat, maybe.... Do they make decorative gun racks? You know, to hang your umbrella from or something?

Oh, yeah. I think Bullard, Texas is in a dry county. It just gets better and better.

R said I could get a pony, though. Hmmm...

I've Been Googled...

Well, my best friend from growing up has found me again. Via Google. I have been Googled. Huh.

I probably kept her up far past her bedtime, babbling on and on. She is the one friend that I can fall into an immediate rhythm with, no matter how long it has been since we've talked. (I think it has been at least three years). We were pregnant at the same time, which is weird. Even weirder is that she had her baby on Valentine's Day. She is the third person I know who had a baby on Valentine's Day 2007. That's weird. It was her fifth baby, and she says she's done now. On the phone, it sounded like barely controlled chaos- in a very fun way. It was neat to catch up with S.

S said that she found it difficult to picture me as a mom. I am considerably less willing to completely let go in front of people than she is- I am definitely the prissy one. So, I was telling her about my "mummy moments"- those moments I would never have imagined before M. For instance, once during a diaper change when M had her diaper off and sneezed- she shot little poop-bullets three feet out of her little butt. She almost hit the wall opposite her changing pad. Or, the first time I actually saw poop being squeezed out of her little butthole. I had never seen a human butt in action before. (Call me sheltered). Or when she farted on my finger as I was putting on some diaper rash cream. She vibrated my finger with her butt. In all cases- I didn't have a breakdown or cry. I just laughed.

Yes, I am officially a mother.

Method Baby Laundry Soap

Ok, so I've been to three different Targets looking for the Method Baby laundry soap and they're out, or they aren't carrying it anymore. The smell of that stuff is like crack to me. Apparently, I'm not the only one who feels this way. It is sort of an amazing scent, as that blogger wrote- very hormone inducing for some reason. Between that and the smell of Johnson & Johnson's All Over Baby Wash, I'd let R knock me up every summer. (Don't tell him that).
I hope that the people at Method aren't planning on discontinuing it. I haven't smelled anything like it before.

Reading My Old Posts....

I was just reading a little bit of a couple of my older posts, and I was smiling over my pre-M posts, where I was describing cooking French food in 80+ degree weather. It made me remember how gianormous my ankles were at that point (which continued until about 10 days after M was born). When the swelling went down I felt so much thinner right away, even though it had nothing to do with my own efforts at losing weight. I need to remember how big I was before M was born so I don't feel as yucky about how big I still am. I'm working on losing the baby weight now, and I need to remember exactly how big I was so I don't feel as big now. I know (logically) that I've lost a fair amount of weight, but it's hard to see myself in pics now (such as during our recent trip) and not feel bad.

I just had to get up and prevent my hubby from drinking cold coffee from the fridge at 1:35 am. He woke up (he has to work tomorrow at 8, so he has to be up at about 6:30 in the morning) and went to grab something to drink. He pulled out the glass pitcher of coffee that I chilled to make iced coffee with and began to pour. I asked him what he thought it was and he answered "brown juice". I'm not sure what juice would be brown, but I would think that soy milk or water would be more appealing, but whatever. I should have let him drink it. That would have been sort of funny when he woke up wired in an hour. But mean. So I didn't. I gave him a cup of o.j. and sent him back to bed. He's occasionally like a really big toddler. M seems to be staying asleep so I think I am going to risk going to bed.

An old friend e-mailed me today. Oddly, we have babies that are about a month apart in age. How weird is life, huh?

Sleepy-time and the vote for antichrist...

I'm up waiting to see if M is really going to sleep or if she is just messing with me. I find that if she sleeps for more than 30 minutes at night, she really means it. She literally just squeaked over the monitor as I typed this. Maybe she really loves Cuba Gooding Jr., who is making his entrance onto Late Night with Conan O'Brien right now. I really hope not. Is good taste genetic? I hope so.
Watching Conan makes me feel sort of nostalgic- I used to watch him when I first moved out on my own, when I worked swing. I'd get home at 11p, make dinner and watch Late Night. Then I got a day job, couldn't stay up as late. Andy Richter left, and it hasn't been the same since.
M decided to wake up again; I think she's beginning to teethe. She's suddenly drooly and obsessed with eating her own hands. Poor little Peanut. It's now 1:42 am. Hopefully this bed-time is for real.
Mark Morford over at the SF Chronicle explains why Lindsay Lohan might be the antichrist and why John Stewart isn't. Very funny. Although I would like to nominate the Justice Department for antichrist, if I may. Oooh, let's do that- kind of like voting for homecoming queen, except for antichrist being just a little more mean and less about being pretty and slutty, right?

Sick Kid....

I think M is getting sick. I feel really tired from this past weekend and M is beginning to cough and sneeze. She threw up on me last night and today the cats threw up on the bed. Welcome home! Vomit! Yay!


And now I need to bundle up the sick kid and go to the store so we can have food for dinner tonight. Argh. But R got a promotion and a raise, so there is a bright side. The bad side is that he's going to be working a lot more. So we have balance, I suppose. Well, I'm off to Trader Joe's.