Today's post was supposed to be about this past year -- the challenges, the privileges, the tiny details that I struggle to remember as I watch my baby turn more and more into a big boy, a child, a little person. Assembling a year's worth of video clips yesterday put that sharply into focus, as oh, he's so big and long and lean now, so different than last year, when I also lamented the loss of my baby and oh, how big and long and lean he was. But then this morning his school called. He's not feeling very well, and he wants nothing in the world right now except to lie in bed with me, while I hold him and rub his back and head and sing the same songs I've been singing for the past three years. Today, he is still my baby. And he will be tomorrow and the day after that, and for the rest of his life, and what a wonderful challenge and privilege that is. Happy birthday, buddy. We'll get you feeling better in no time, I promise. Noah's third birthday from amalah on Vimeo. Read more →

It suddenly appears that tomorrow is my firstborn son's third birthday. I have no idea how this happened, or why I could not give less of a shit about it. Possibly because he has been VERY EXTREMELY MUCH THREE YEARS OLD for the past three months. Possibly because I finally see the benefit of having a child who doesn't yet understand birthdays or expect parties and gifts and I realize this may possibly be the last year I can get away with kind of ignoring the whole thing, other than: Here. Some relatives sent you toys. Have a cupcake. Possibly because I am finally starting to get a grip on the fact that children get older no matter what you do, or maybe it's because I've got a smaller, better-smelling trade-in model coming in a couple weeks so fine! Grow up! Get all big and old, with your ACTUAL KNUCKLES ALL OF A SUDDEN INSTEAD OF FINGER DIMPLES OR WHATEVER! See if I care! I'm having a baby and THAT baby won't ever be three years old and in preschool and big boy pants and he'll never let his hair turn darker and not as curly so...here. Play with the... Read more →

So I had an OB appointment this week. On Wednesday, actually. Those of you on Twitter might have seen one or two or three or seven hundred GAR ANGRY POKING! PHONE! KEYBOARD! REALLY! HARD! messages about it, and yet only now, two days later, do I feel calm enough to talk about. Not because of any news I received at the visit -- as expected, all that false labor did absolutely nothing and my cervix is settled in for a nice long snug winter -- but because the office was running over TWO HOURS behind schedule. Two hours! And of course, they were not calling patients to let them know about the delay, but instead chose to let our bodies pile up in the waiting room. Naturally, my appointment time was already much later in the morning than usual, so I was already cutting it close with the preschool pick-up time. I'd arranged for Noah to eat lunch at school -- buying myself an extra half hour or so -- but eventually the receptionist just told me to go ahead and pick him up at school. And then come back. You know, to WAIT SOME MORE. This meant my first... Read more →

This morning, my dog -- the dog I frequently threaten to give away and/or skin into a mitten, the dog who sees an open baby gate as a chance to poop in the basement, YAY BASEMENT POOPING IS THE FUNNEST POOPING OF ALL POOPING, who has apparently also been occasionally peeing on our dining room rug, and we didn't even realize that until we each grabbed a corner of it this weekend to move it to the other side of the room, OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT SMELL, the dog who eats the cat's food and steals waffles right off my child's plate, the dog who barks herself senseless every damn day when the mail comes and thinks all our guests are made out of ham, the dog who is the biggest eight-pound pain in the ass on the planet -- escaped out of our backyard. We'd been calling for her inside the house -- I'd let her out in a half-asleep stupor and couldn't really remember letting her out. Did I let her out? There's waffles on the table and she's not frantically head-butting the back door to get at the waffles, so I must not have let... Read more →

So...around 8:30 last night I had a contraction. I was standing on our bed, describing this great new color scheme and fancy painting technique I'm imagining for the bedroom, when I involuntarily yelped and clutched my ballooning belly. Jason raised his eyebrow and I clapped my hands together and sarcastically exclaimed, "Honey, it's time!" like pregnant women do in the movies. Then I rolled my eyes and got back to the serious business of spending nonexistent money on hypothetical furniture. Then five minutes later, I had another contraction. And then another. And this went on for awhile. Every five minutes. I drank some water. I sat down and put my feet up. I paced up and down the hallway. After about an hour, they were still coming every five minutes or so, but didn't seem to be getting any worse. I decided to pack up my hospital bag anyway, panicking because I hadn't washed the baby's coming-home outfit yet. And the cameras weren't charged, and neither was my phone, and holy shit, MY TOENAILS. I'd just put the finishing coat on my nails when the contractions stopped. Jason (who had been chugging caffeine and eating a variety of high-protein snacks... Read more →

FRIDAY: "I don't think I've got the nesting thing as bad this time, you know?" "Oh yeah, you're much calmer. You haven't even said a single word about replacing the kitchen cabinets." SATURDAY: I made us drive two states and like, four counties south to look at houses, because I thought we could cut our mortgage in half and get a single family home with a garage and a whirlpool tub in the master bath and you know what we could do with all that extra money every month? We could replace the kitchen cabinets! I am brilliant! This is a brilliant plan! I've got a stack of realtor.com printouts and a good feeling about this one zip code, which is ridiculously extra cheap and I'm guessing it's just because other people have never HEARD of this zip code and not for like, a real valid reason like you need to keep a cattle prod handy to keep your neighbor's herd out of your tomato garden. SUNDAY: Okay, so that didn't go super well. I'm not ready to give up. I have a NEW stack of realtor.com printouts and a few different neighborhoods triangulated on the GPS. We won't drive... Read more →

(There was no sign of any fingerpainted masterpiece in Noah's cubby today -- only some crayoned and googly-eyed-pasted projects from last week. I assume this means Noah's fingerpainting has been deemed Bulletin Board Worthy. Or else it got thrown out, which...um. No, I'm sure it's probably the bulletin board thing.) (STRANGLED GURGLING OF BRAINS SEEPING OUT EARS) Anyway! Holy crap on construction paper, I'm 36 weeks pregnant. I know I usually crop my head out of these, but I feel like you kind of need it now for scaling purposes. Belly: officially bigger than my skull. Noted! It's pretty much bigger than everything now, and firmly in charge. Here's what I looked like last time. The only difference being that I used to have about 15 extra pounds of ass, thanks to the six or so glorious months of daily puking this time. The next person who inquires about my weight gain and then tells me I'm "lucky" to have only gained 16 pounds so far is going to get kicked in whatever body part is convenient to be kicked because OH YEAH, I hit the motherfucking jackpot this pregnancy. Why, it was like a built-in case of bulimia, and... Read more →

I sometimes struggle over what constitutes an entry here...what's an important enough development to put into words and demand your eyeballs and indulgence, or what I should just post on Twitter, or maybe email to friends, or just file away in my own memory. So this one is just for all of Noah's virtual aunts and uncles and cheerleaders, those of you who never. ever. fail to leave wonderful comments about him and your own children and family members, full of ideas and suggestions (to Liz, who suggested supplying Noah with word choices to encourage him to talk about past events [i.e. did you eat pizza or hamburger buns for lunch? did you go on the slide or hang out with those no-good ruffian beatniks at recess?]: THANK YOU. I gave myself the world's biggest forehead slap for not ever once thinking of trying that, and surprise! It works! Most of the time. I don't THINK his teacher's name is Ms. Pinky Dinky, but maybe I'm wrong). I picked Noah up from school today -- his first Thursday class ever, and was greeted by his teacher, who was ECSTATIC. He'd had a great day -- his BEST day, thanks to... Read more →

What was I saying about those boys of mine and their little pussy head colds? AW, POOR BABIES. EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT. YOU'VE BEEN TRUMPED. Well. Uh. You know what else trumps your pussy head cold? EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT WITH A HEAD COLD. Oh, God. The agony. The pressure. The postnasal drip. (Or...am I NINE months pregnant now? I am IN my ninth month, but have COMPLETED eight months? Are you only considered nine months pregnant right at your due date or do you get to whine dramatically about being NINE MONTHS PREGNANT WITH A HEAD COLD or NINE MONTHS PREGNANT AT THE GROCERY STORE or NINE MONTHS PREGNANT AND STILL EXPECTED TO TIE MY OWN SHOES for a couple weeks before that? I can never really follow the pregnancy math, but I would like it to work out to my optimal whining advantage.) Last night we attended our very first Back To School Parents' Night Thing at Noah's preschool. I was a little bummed, frankly -- I thought there would be punch. Maybe cookies. Instead we got handouts and sat around perched on teensy little chairs and discussed our Educational Goals, Wishes and Dreams for our not-quite-three-year-olds. And the policies... Read more →

Oh, right. We went away for a few days right there. It was great. Until everybody got sick. Noah threw up purple Tylenol on Jason's aunt and uncle's guest bed, and then on his uncle. (For any rookie parent who might see "Children's Tylenol Meltaways" on the shelf at CVS and think, "Oh! I bet those are easier than the liquids," let me just tell you that "MELTAWAY" does not necessarily mean the same thing to Tylenol as it does to you and me. For example, that it melts. Away. In a reasonable amount of time before your child can work himself up into a royal state over OMG THERE IS SOMETHING PURPLE IN MY MOUTH THAT TASTES LIKE SUGAR BUT I AM SICK AND PISSED OFF AND I SPIT OUT YOUR PURPLE SUGAR TABLET REPEATEDLY UNTIL THERE IS PURPLE SUGAR SLIME EVERYWHERE AND THEN I SHALL VOMIT ON PURPOSE JUST IN CASE I MANAGED TO ABSORB A SINGLE ATOM OF MEDICINE.) (Oh, and then you'll look at the bottle and realize that the dosage is TWO TABLETS, and even if you wise up enough to mash and/or dissolve the second tablet in a sippy cup, your child is SO... Read more →