The Letter's Edge

Lula Inc., subscribe

2010-04-22T07:38:00.003-05:00

Just a quick reminder that you can find me over at Lula Inc. from now on.

You can change your subscription over here: SUBSCRIBE.

Lula Inc.

2010-03-22T15:21:00.001-05:00

It finally happened.

The Letter's Edge and Lula Photography finally merged to create Lula Inc.

Go have a look.

Noodles galore

2010-03-19T07:20:00.002-05:00

Over the weekend, we spent some time in Rockport visiting our dear friends. They moved there a few months ago, taking our hearts with them. While I miss them somethin' awful, it's definitely no hardship getting to visit such an enchanting place. Rockport, another reason to love Maine.

And what did we ever do before swimmy noodles were invented?

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Anna Banana

2010-03-17T21:10:00.005-05:00

Once upon a time when I worked in an office with regular set hours, it was easy to coordinate child care. Sometimes complicated but usually easy. Now that Miles is approaching three months (I can't even believe it) and my job as a photographer no longer demands such a structured schedule or place of work, it's much more difficult to define and plan for my work time. It seems sort of impossible to schedule 'creative' time, but that's what I have to do for now.

It helps that each day Miles gets a bit more comfortable without his mama. It also helps that we have one of the world's best and most beloved nannies of all time, sweet Anna. This is what I came home to early this afternoon.

It reminded me of a picture I took almost a year ago when I came home to this. She's part of our family and also happens to rock killer dreads. Honestly, I couldn't ask for much more.

A shot in the head

2010-03-16T08:58:00.003-05:00

Things have been a little quiet around here for a number of reasons, some exciting and some not so much.

I've been bitching and moaning for years about how badly I've wanted to make Lula Photography my main gig. When Miles came at the same time I lost my social work gig, I ran out of excuses. So I've been quietly making progress on a new site, learning more about small businesses and branding, and bolstering my photography profile (networking, advertising, looking for work, etc).

I've also been nursing and changing mountains of dirty diapers.

Part of the site redesign and professional upgrade is thinking about a head shot. Dude. Getting the right head shot seems totally impossible. It's either too pretentious, serious, unauthentic, melancholy, silly, unoriginal, or just plain weird. It's also quite possible that I'm over-thinking it and should just get it over with. Maybe I should just have Eva take it and then go have a bowl of ice cream.

You look maaaarvelous, darling

2010-03-13T09:28:00.004-05:00

A few years ago, I made the New Year's Intention to learn how to where lipstick. Now I carry a pretty purple felted clutch in my bag with various lip gloss, stick, stain, moisturizing accoutrements. If I'm not vigilant, though, a certain small someone will take an experimental slant on that Intention.

Embarrassingly undeniable

2010-03-11T14:24:00.004-05:00

"I'm going to fight for you until your heart stops beating." Seriously? That's what Jacob is bringing this time?

I'm talking a big game, but you know I'll be standing in line for tickets.

Just the three of us

2010-03-10T17:34:00.007-05:00

We can make it if we try.

I read a criticism of mommy blogging a while back that said something about how a segment of our culture was creating a fake or untrue veneer. In other words, mommy bloggers are only writing about the good and beautiful stuff, depicting an 'unreal' or 'unattainable' world. There's some truth to that.

I'm writing about this today because I'm presently getting my ass handed to me. Mothering two children under the age of 3 is more demanding and consuming than anything I've ever experienced. ANYTHING. EVER. SERIOUSLY, EVER. I can understand why our blogs are somewhat skewed in the copacetic direction simply because it's a coping tool. We're surviving. If we didn't focus ourselves on the many lovely, warm, and worthy moments of this job we would crumble beneath the weight of it all.

I'm tired, really tired. This afternoon while Miles was content, I tried to read my book and found that I couldn't get past the first page. I read and reread the same paragraph 4 times and eventually started to get dizzy. No kidding. The sleep deprivation is making me dizzy. Well, the sleep deprivation and my returning ear infections. There's no doubt in my mind that the job of mothering and the subsequent ass kicking is wearing me down to the point of my body taking a hit. It's just too tired to heal itself.

But we can't end the story there, right? I don't want to end the story with, "Life sucks, I don't sleep, and you'd be wise to hope you never see me driving in your neighborhood." Because that's not the whole truth either. There are beautiful times, sweet times like when we're all up in Miles' room when the late afternoon light drafts in through the two huge windows. I often nurse Miles in my comfy chair while Eva builds a rocket ship out of baby blankets. Yesterday, after four or five successful blast offs Eva grabbed my camera and snapped this shot of Miles and me. It's true that I can't put two sentences together without making my brain hurt, but this photograph is also telling the truth.

A Mother's Indulgence

2010-03-05T06:48:00.001-05:00

We're going to round the week out with a total indulgence of more Miles. Why? Because it's Friday and it's my blog and I need these little treats to remind myself that it's all worth it.

Because it really is so worth it.

I totally lost my shit last Friday. It was the first postpartum breakdown. I hit a wall. Normally, when I hit a wall the whole friggin' world knows about it. I process things externally, in case you haven't already noticed. This one crept up on me sneaky-like, and by the time Ferris got home from work on Friday evening, all I could do was sit still and not cry. I didn't want to cry. It started with days of shallow breathing and heart palpitations as the anxiety set in and started to squeeze my insides. Then, on Friday, Ferris had plans to take me out to dinner for my birthday with reservations at 6:30 sharp. Lets just say that the Mama duties prevented me from getting into the shower until 6:05, and I was pissed. Maybe less pissed than hurt...hurting...exhausted...overwhelmed...done.

But, see. I've done this before, and I knew exactly what was happening before it even happened. So I sat quietly at the restaurant until the panic subsided. Then, I had a lovely evening. Yes, I've done this before which means I've learned some lessons. This time, I've decided not to sit back and complain about how I need a break or a hug or a nice warm bath. I'm not going to complain about it because I'M GOING TO DO IT. No muss, no fuss. So, over the weekend, I took a warm bath, several long naps, and I hired some care for Miles. Just a few hours was all I needed to get back on track. I also know that this will happen again. This time, though, it's not so scary because I know I have some control...control enough to do something.

I knew this video would be chalked full of 'coochicoos'. At this stage, getting even the smallest response from Miles is enormously gratifying. But as I played it back, I caught myself at the very end rambling on with a bunch of 'I love yous' that broke my own heart. I didn't remember saying that when I was filming, probably because it's the kind of thing a mama says a million times a day. It was nice to hear myself, though. Makes me feel good about what I do.

A Mother's Indulgence from Stephanie on Vimeo.

Miles and miles of smiles

2010-03-04T07:33:00.003-05:00

They say he has my eyes. I should clarify. I say he has my eyes and everyone nods in agreement for fear I might lop their head off. Eva looks so much like Ferris, I'm sort of obsessed with staking my claim on his genetics. Frankly, he doesn't look like anyone. He's just Miles.

Presidential Reunion

2010-03-03T09:53:00.001-05:00

Funny or Die's Presidential Reunion from Will Ferrell

President's Reunion Behind the Scenes - watch more funny videos

Gratefuls

2010-03-02T18:03:00.000-05:00

It's day two of weight watchers, and I'm already a little grumbley. Morning coffee without cream and sugar just isn't cutting it, although I refuse to eat my oatmeal without a drop or two of Maine maple syrup. It's sacrilege to use the fake stuff and totally worth the points.

Thank you for the radical birthday comments, emails, phone calls, and ichats. My family in Pocasmello met together at My Mother the Prude's house last night so they could sing 'Happy Birthday' to me, Bernt-style. What is Bernt-style, you so appropriate ask? Bernt (pronounced like burnt toast) is my maiden name, actually it's also my middle name. My name is Stephanie Bernt Hatzenbuehler. Rolls right off your tongue, doesn't it? Anyhooters, Bernt-style is when everyone sings the words to 'Happy Birthday', but the catch is that we all sing it to our own tune. Some people use the tune of another song while others make up their own tune as they go along. The result is something akin to a barn yard of animals wailing at the full moon. My grandpa used to cover his ears and close his eyes until the torture was over, which only served to urge us along with more gusto. The whole ruckus is something I'll never stop loving.

I also had plans with my dear friend, Kitty, who offered to watch Miles while I went to a short work meeting. She showed up with my favorite chicken bean soup and an absolutely knock out arrangement of my favorite flower, stargazer lilies. She made the arrangement herself with twigs of cherry blossoms sticking up from the top. Knock out, I tell you. When I got home, my house was picked up with the dish washer washing. The absolute greatest gift a mama could ask for.

Thank you.

32 and counting

2010-03-01T10:22:00.004-05:00

Today is my birthday, and, like many beautiful bloggers before me, I'm going to regale you with 32 things you really don't care to know about me.

1. I collect calendars.
2. I never wanted to be a mother until I was one.
3. My husband and I were born in the same hospital, 4 months apart.
4. We were on the same soccer team 4 years later.
5. We had next door paper routes for several years after that.
6. I married for love.
7. I've been shopping for boots for months and refuse to buy a pair until I find the perfect ones.
8. I have great boobs.
9. I have stretch marks on my hips from adolescence and none on my belly after two pregnancies.
10. I'm going to take a cooking class.
11. My favorite song is My Sharona.
12. I fall in love very easily.
13. I love fiercely.
14. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and it gives me away...every time.
15. I play the piano.
16. I crochet.
17. I'm allergic to red wine.
18. I think it's because of the sulfates.
19. I require more sleep than anyone I know.
20. I have a killer jump shot.
21. I live in a yellow shingled house.
22. I love laying in hammocks, but I've never owned one.
23. I'm 3/4 done with my goal of visiting all 50 states.
24. I'm 4/7 done with my goal of visiting all 7 continents.
25. For the most part, I've never been happier.
26. I have routine anxiety dreams about being in high school and forgetting my locker combination.
27. I fancy myself a writer.
28. I'm starting weight watchers today.
29. I'm growing my hair out and rapidly approaching the awkward phase.
30. I have become intensely private about my spirituality.
31. There's a small picture of Jesus hanging in my bedroom closet.
32. I want for nothing.

Frenulectomy: Say that ten times faster

2010-02-24T13:16:00.005-05:00

There was a week or two when I wanted to write about how manageable our lives have become. Parenting is never easy, but I've found that staying at home without the constant stress of working outside the home has been a true blessing in disguise. Everyone knows I lost my social work job at the end of December thanks to budget cuts. What I didn't know is that by losing my job, I was opening room for more simplicity at home.

And then we endured the week from hell. Eva was as sick as I've ever seen her, so we rolled out the pull-out couch, played every Disney movie we could find, and kept the puke bucket near for days. Literally, days. Poor kid had a fever, a wicked cough, she shook, and she cried. All the while, I tried to keep Miles and her as far apart as possible. Luckily, he never got sick, however...

We figured out that Miles is tongue-tied...also known as the thing that happens when the connective skin under your tongue is too long and prevents you from being able to stick your tongue out. Sometimes it keeps kids from latching well and can effect speech. Ferris had the same thing, although his tongue was never fixed until he was much older. So Monday afternoon, we took Miles to the doctor for a frenulectomy. I'm sure I spelled that wrong. It's a relatively easy procedure where they topically numb under the tongue and quickly snip the connective skin back. Miles did great. Mama almost passed out.

Things aren't so very easy, but I have to admit that they'd be a million times more complicated if I had an outside job to work around. No doubt, I would feel buried. That said, I'm already starting to miss the personal balance that working outside of the home seemed to give me. I used to work too much, but I can already see a time when I'm going to want or need some of that back. Not all of it, but some of it.

Perhaps I should just watch a few episodes of Oprah and hope everything rights itself while I'm busy.

Mamaletter: Winter 2010

2010-02-22T15:18:00.006-05:00

Dear Eva and Miles,

My loves, my babies. You could have pushed me over with a feather when they put you in my arms, sweet Miles. Yes, I was mondo beyondo exhausted, but I was also blown away by the fact that you were a boy. Your daddy and I were totally and completely convinced you were a girl. When you arrived, your daddy announced breathlessly, "It's a boy!" and could barely get the words across his lips before he lost himself in emotion. I can count the number of times I've seen your daddy cry on three fingers, the day you were born being foremost among them. We wanted you, oh, how we wanted you, my sweet baby boy.

And here you are, come to join our crazy racket. Several hours passed before your big sister came to meet you. Your daddy was holding you next to the bed where I sat. I looked up and called to Eva who came running across the room into my lap. A few minutes later, your daddy put you into Eva's arms where you snoozed peacefully as she cuddled and cooed and pawed at you. She calls you 'My Baby', and anytime the two of you are apart for more than 20 minutes, she'll come bursting into the room demanding, "Where's My Baby?" You are good-natured, content, peaceful, and at ease. You are a delight.

And you, Miss Eva, have been a study in the extremes of toddlerhood. The past few months have been spent in one of two gears. You are either the brightest, most colorful, and charming creature or you're the queen of discontent. There was a moment, a few weeks after Miles was born, when the two of us looked at each other knowing our relationship was never going to be the same. We needed to grieve over that loss in order to make room for something new, and it was brutal. Seriously, girlfriend, you and I had to endure some difficult moments that challenged us both, but we made it through. We always do.

I'd like to credit my fabulous parenting skills for our peaceful transition, but, frankly, I need to give credit to The Reflux. Most of our issues came while navigating the rocky terrain of sibling rivalry and jealousy. Naturally, it seemed impossible to figure out how to deal with your Mama spending all her time (time that was usually given to you) taking care of your brother. Each time I nursed or cuddled him, you would want to be right there with us. And by 'right there with us', I mean that you wanted to be in my lap along with Miles or, better yet, nursing and cuddling Miles yourself. All this pushing and pulling and needing and nagging made for some interesting hours on the couch until Miles resolved the issue for us. One massive puke all over your precious, pink Dora sneakers was all it took. It seems that no amount of heartbreak was worth risking another puke shower. Now, when I ask if you'd like to hold Miles after we've nursed, you flash me a look as if to say, "No thanks, Ma. I'm cool."

We're spending more time together at home, the three of us. I'm learning the art of putting my laundry away while Miles snoozes and you play dress up. You run into my closet, close the door behind you, and try on anything that will stay on your slight frame. Then you knock on the door.

Me: Who is it?
You: It's Eva!
Me: What do you need?
You: Open the door!
Me: What's the magic word?
You: Abracadabra

I couldn't have said it any better, my love. Our new life together is like Abracadabra. Magic.

Love,
Mama

Maine.

2010-02-17T09:58:00.004-05:00

We're getting hit hard this winter. I suppose that's what families do. They pass cold germs around and around until the germs finally get bored and move on to some other unsuspecting family. I've written some about the back-to-back colds Miles had, both of which prevented him from gaining the proper amount of weight after he was born. All is well now, knock on wood. Then, I got the double ear infections/sinus terribleness. Cross my heart, I'm just barely getting my hearing back. And now Eva has something real bad...fever, wicked cough, etc. We were all up most of the night doing our best to comfort her, to feed the baby, to soothe the cough. Any suggestions for the night time coughing jags?

Above it all, Ferris is doing a week as an attending in the hospital. Twice a year, he has to do hospital work which requires long hours and lots of hard work. Sort of like being a mom except for not as challenging (smirk, wink). He worked the weekend, which meant that the three of us needed a great adventure to keep our spirits up. That's why I love this place. I love this place for lots of reasons but mostly because of the water. Growing up in the mountains/desert, I had no idea how much I respond to water. After living in Seattle and now Portland, the calming, soothing, centering power of water has become totally and completely clear.

On Sunday morning, we bundled up into our warmest winterwear and headed to Willard beach. Jackson harassed other dogs and fetched nonexistent items in the ocean surf, Eva walked up and down the beach in search of long grass reeds to build her beach castle, Miles sacked out in the sling, and I stared at the ocean. I stared and I listened and I let the waves wash over my soul. Sound a little dramatic? Maybe so, but those sounds and smells and waves make it possible for me to be the kind of mother I want to be. An hour on the beach and I can do anything. I can do anything, and I can do it happily and well.

An angel just got her wings

2010-02-15T13:24:00.003-05:00

Let it be known, this 15th day of February in the year of our Lord 2010, that both of my children are napping...at the same time...in the middle of the day...AT THE SAME TIME.

BTW, I don't consider Ferris one of the difficult ones around here, but if he were here and napping I'd be heading for cover for fear that lightening would strike.

Siblings from the archives

2010-02-12T08:55:00.005-05:00

I'm woefully behind in finishing the editing process from my shoot with the Sommerhans (please forgive me, Myra!). I took another look through the images last night and found this one. I can't believe I overlooked this gooshy, smooshy, overload of sibling cuteness the first time around. I know I'm supposed to enjoy the moments when Miles is brand new, but I can't help myself from looking forward to a time when he and Eva can be gooshy, smooshy cute like this.

Art therapy

2010-02-10T13:29:00.005-05:00

Ever heard of the phrase 'If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy'? Well, in our family that phrase can be more aptly applied to our sweet Eva. If she ain't havin' it, ain't nobody havin' it.

So much has changed in the last few months, I can see where she's coming from. Ferris and I are finding ourselves, for the first time, really flexing our parenting skills and falling flat on our faces. We're all doing pretty well, some days being much better than others, because we've found some tricks that seem to work.

The single most important thing is for Eva to know she has some control of her world. With the addition of her little bro, there isn't much that hasn't changed. And while we have a no tolerance policy for bad behavior, I think it's very important to give her opportunities to flex her muscles. So we let her pick out her clothes every morning. She also chooses Miles' clothes and helps get him ready. And we found Art School.

It's been so helpful for Eva to have places and people that are only 'hers'. Auntie Lindsay, Ferris' little sis, came to visit last week, and I put her right to work helping Eva carve out her space. People, we're keeping our heads above water...barely, but we're totally doing it.

A labor story 2.0, part three (the finale, I promise)

2010-02-08T12:59:00.006-05:00

Miles and I are laying low today. We're trying desperately to heal from a barrage or bugs that have kept us from being healthy. Seriously, this winter is kicking our asses.

While he sleeps, I'm going to finally finish our labor story by starting (again) where we left off.

There are two things to talk about. The first is to, simply, finish the story. The second is an indulgence on my part. I really want to talk a bit about the experience of having vs. not having an epidural. Lets begin.

Everything changed once the nipples had been twiddled and the contractions regulated themselves. I was in full-on labor, my mind and soul had escaped to the world of laboring women. After it was all over, I told Ferris I barely saw him during the whole thing. I think I said something excruciatingly insensitive like, "You weren't as present in this labor." He took one look at me and put his foot down, "Listen, lady. I was riding your ass for three full hours. I was totally THERE. It's YOU who wasn't there." Riding my ass? Wha?

Apparently, I demanded constant pressure on my lower back. Because Ferris was the strongest, I threw a hissy every time he tried to take a break from pushing on my tail bone with the palms of his hands. Ferris, my dear lover, was literally riding my ass the entire labor. As for my presence? He is correct. I wasn't 'there', in a manner of speaking. Once the contractions started, it wasn't long before they became fast and furious. Three hours, to be exact, was the length of time it took to become fully dilated from 4 cm.

In those three hours, I stood by the side of the bed, rocking and moaning. I hopped up on the bed, ass in the air, arms flopped over the headboard, rocking and moaning. It was there that I stopped being able to converse. It was in that position that I closed my eyes and never opened them until they put Miles in my arms. I also spent some time in the whirlpool, sitting, standing, rocking and moaning. It was there, in the tub, that my body started to feel like it was being slowly ripped apart.

Then, it was back to the bed for those final few 'transition' contractions. Anyone who's been there knows that this is the hardest part. Luckily, there were only a handful of contractions were I tried to crawl out of my body. Lindsay and Ferris said I was composed and focused, but I wasn't feeling any of those things. I was feeling pain, panic, terror, and then...

This is were the story changes into something fairly spiritual...maybe even mystical, if you'll allow it. This is where, for me, there was a big difference between having an epidural (for my first labor) and having a natural birth in a way that had nothing to do with pain. I've often heard women talk about how special it is to deliver without intervention. It's almost as if the pain becomes an integral ingredient in the mind/body's experience of labor.

Something happened to me in the moments before I started to push. The pain was horrific as my cervix was opening those last few millimeters to allow for the baby to move through me. In one of the brief moments between contractions, I opened my eyes just for a second and took a deep breath. I've since tried to find a way to explain what happened to me and can only come up with this.

My labor with Eva was the closest I'd ever been to experiencing the divine. During those last moments of Miles birth, it was the closest I'd ever come to actually being divine. When people talk about death and tunnels and moving toward the light, I can't help but think that that also happens at birth. In that moment, I was the tunnel. I was the light. When I started to push (which I hated, BTWs. Whoever said pushing feels good is out of their mind), I felt the full power of what I was doing. Regardless of religious or spiritual orientation, there is nothing, and I'm serious when I say this, there is nothing more Godly...nothing closer to divinity...nothing more divine than giving life.

There you have it, folks. Four days of sleepless early labor, some fun with nipples, three hours of heavy labor, a brief brush with the miraculous, 45 minutes of pushing, and Miles was born. I believe, with all my being, that having a baby is a miracle no matter how they arrive, but I can't deny the experience I had doing it without any intervention. Now if only they had some sort of injection for parents of newborns that don't sleep.

Also a place to hide the dead bodies

2010-02-07T11:54:00.004-05:00

Thank you, thank you a million times over for all your great advice. I knew I could count on you guys. It seems that all babies are on a spectrum of reflux. Eva was on the side of next to zero while Miles is somewhere in the middle. He tosses his cookies fairly often. Poor Eva found that out the hard way when Miles blew a gallon of semi-processed mama milk all over when she was holding him. She's still in therapy because of the PTSD. The biggest problems are tons more laundry and more ass kicking during the night to keep him upright, but there's no colic. That seems to be the kicker when thinking about meds. Miles is considered a 'happy refluxer' and continues to gain weight. In sum, we just have to continue to forfeit the sleep while we wait for him to get bigger and stronger.

While he naps and while Eva and John are at the grocery store I'm going to dot some i's and cross some very neglected t's.

Many of you asked about the artist and song behind the Hatzenbuehler video. It's a collaboration between the groups The Pastels and The Tenniscoats. Totally badass. The song is Vivid Youth (see link below).

For months I've been meaning to feature my sweet friend and carpenter, Timian's, killer work on our office. This room went from a semi-useless, cluttered bummer to a totally radical office/guest room in two weeks. We have three bedrooms, and with the addition of a second kid we wanted to have an organized playroom/office that could second as a guest room. The solution was a murphy bed disguised as a built-in bookshelf. We painted the room a pale gray and hid the bed behind a chalkboard and a few key pieces of Christopher David Ryan's work.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Now I'm off to negotiate with Ferris for a much-needed nap.

The thick of it

2010-02-02T19:46:00.003-05:00

I'm getting my ass kicked. Seriously. Miles is nearing 6 weeks and experiencing some sort of reflux situation that keeps him up at night. Been there? Any suggestions?

Menemsha quilt for Miles

2010-01-30T17:50:00.003-05:00

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you.

We started shooting with his clothes on which lasted for one click. Are you kidding me with that scrumptious belly?

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

The Best People in the World, ironically enough

2010-01-29T22:24:00.002-05:00

I experienced a first today. I experienced two firsts, actually.

We (Eva, Miles, and I) had a good day, a really good day. Eva has had some trouble, as all toddlers with baby siblings do, figuring out her new role as big sister and sharer of her mother's love. She's not into it. It's been a delayed response because the first three weeks of Miles life were spent with all kinds of family here to help and shower her with attention. Then, everyone left and she was stuck with us. I feel lucky that Eva could not be more into Miles. She's all about 'my baby', as she calls him. She's TOTALLY NOT, however, into me. All of the angst and betrayal and confusion and frustration is placed squarely on my shoulders for having had sexual relations with her father.

But today was different and even seemed like the turning of a corner. I hesitate to speak too soon, but it was too nice...even euphoric...to go without some recognition. We spent time with other kids who have little siblings, much of which was spent talking about how cool it is to be a big sister. We spent the morning at Oak Street Studios, our first time at art class, where Miles slept the entire time so Eva and I could happily dive in up to our elbows in paint. It was totally uninterrupted time for just the two of us, and there was a notable change in Eva. I bet there was a notable change in me, too.

See? Things aren't all that bad, right? Right.

The second 'first' happened at dinner. We learned, very early on, to get the hell out of the house as often as possible in the first three months. When Eva was little, we went to movies and restaurants and parties and events because all she did was sleep. Miles, too. Tonight, some friends and I decided to check out the new Walters. Side note: I don't like the atmosphere as well, but the food was great. So I got all hot and fabulous and headed out with Miles in the 7 degree weather. What happened next was pretty cool.

I had dinner with the author of the book I'm currently reading. A first.

Justin and Sarah (Sarah's book is coming out in the fall) have a sweet boy in Eva's class. The two of them became instant pals, but I bet the parents are even more enamored with each other. I should probably only speak for myself, but it's pretty safe to say given how hot I looked last night. Anyhooters, we've been hanging out a ton, but I just recently picked up Justin's book. So tonight became the first night I hung out with him as 'the author'.

The book is critically acclaimed to the max. I'm only a few pages in, but so far so good. What I find more interesting is the NY Times review with the title 'Hot Teacher'. What I would give, people, what I would give for a review like that.

The Sommerhans

2010-01-27T05:41:00.003-05:00

Ferris' sister introduced me to Myra and John several years ago while I was visiting her in New York. A few years later, coincidentally, they moved to Portland for his residency, and we had coffee. A few more years later, they've become a family I like to call my own. Myra helped ease my transition back into the work force by taking care of Eva. We've shared holidays, dinners, coffees, play dates, adventures, and hours of motherhood conferencing. Whether they like it or not, I plan to have them around for a very long while.

Committed

2010-01-24T20:34:00.000-05:00

I'm getting used to this stay at home mothering stuff. I say this moments after an over-cooked (shall we say incinerated?) slice of toast nearly burned down my house when the toaster refused to spit it out. I sat Eva squarely in front of Pinky Dinky Doo under a breakfast tray of waffles and orange juice. Then, I popped some bread in the toaster just as Miles started to cry in search of some breakfast of his own. So I left the toast. I left the toast because I had confidence it could take care of itself while the little ones in my life could not. Minutes later, my house was awash in clouds of toast smoke...thick toast smoke. Of course, Eva needed to be to school in ten minutes, Miles wanted more milk, and the incinerated toast had become something akin to glowing charcoal. Oh, and I mustn't forget to mention that the smoke alarms DID NOT go off as they should have.

And away we go.

The upside of stay at home motherhood is the simplicity. I don't mean to say that life is simple. I mean to say that my life (or rather my brain space) is much less full now that I don't have the social work gig. I plan to write more about that sometime soon. At this point, for me, it's worth mentioning that less social work means more energy for my kids and photography.

On the days when Eva is at school, Miles and I are free to wonder the city as we please, and I'm reminded of earlier days when Eva was little. Ferris was still super busy with residency, so I coped with the loneliness by taking long adventures with Eva and my camera. More than just surviving, I discovered a passion and eventually a small business.

These are a few outtakes from a morning spent last week at Arabica. Life with a newborn and a toddler is never easy, even in the best of circumstances, but I can't begin to explain how much I'm loving just being able to shoot. Instead of working behind a desk, my job is now about working in the world. All this new freedom (freedom from the chains of a desk) is lending itself to gobs more opportunity to shoot. And more shooting equals more happiness.

It feels like coming home.

To be a Hatzenbuehler

2010-01-20T14:03:00.002-05:00

Make no mistake, our transition into a family of four has not been this sweet although many moments have been even sweeter. I need to think more about what's happening between Eva and I before I write about it. Until then, we'll pretend it all looks and sounds like this.

To Be a Hatzenbuehler from Stephanie on Vimeo.

Living in a snowball

2010-01-18T16:11:00.003-05:00

Today is the first day of my life as a stay at home mother of two. I've been a mother of two for 3 1/2 weeks, but today is my first day alone with both kids for the entire day. It's also a day of balls to the walls snow. A wise woman gave me very fine advice this morning.

Forget about being 'a good mother' for the next three months. It's all about survival. That's good enough.

A labor story 2.0, part two

2010-01-17T09:30:00.001-05:00

I woke up this morning to the sweet sighs and coos (and some less sweet grunting) of our three week old demanding to be fed. I also noticed the absence of Ferris who left us in the middle of the night to attend to our 2 year old who is having trouble sleeping. When Miles and I decided to throw in the towel to head downstairs into the brutal morning, we passed the guest bedroom to find Ferris and Eva pretzelled together under a mound of blankets. We're slowly getting use to this...ever so slowly, but it's happening.

So lets go back a few weeks and finish the story.

It's important to start the labor part of the story with the understanding that I went into it feeling defeated. Although I was comfortable with my decision to induce by breaking my water, there was a fair amount of guilt and resignation that came with the package. It's always better to wait until things happen on their own, but that was no longer an option for me and I was subconsciously beating myself up for it. The desperation was getting the better of me.

On Christmas Eve at 2:30pm, my water was broken. Seven hours later, my contractions had almost completely stopped. Let me walk you through it.

After we broke my water, I continued with the same old 'NOT ACTUAL LABOR' contractions for a long while. With Ferris and Lindsay by my side, we walked the hospital halls and bounced on the birthing ball with very little luck. Nothing...and with each hour of nothing that passed, we all started to feel the heaviness of that nothing. I was petrified, totally and completely out of my mind terrified that I'd made a mistake, a colossal mistake. Ferris was silent. Walking behind me through the halls, staring obsessively at his iPhone as he timed the less frequent, weakening contractions, his face was starting to show the concern. As my stress increased, so did his, and so on and so forth. Pretty soon, Ferris was coping by killing all of my Snood scores on the laptop while Lindsay and I continued with the pointless walking.

The hours of nothing had taken my head out of the game.

There's something about labor, at least my labors, where I become somewhat internal...very internal, in fact. It almost feels as though my body is no longer on Earth, time doesn't feel the same, the people around me don't feel the same, and I'm consumed by what's happening to my body and to my baby. For me, becoming internal is one of the most vital parts of the experience. It's as though my soul needs to go to another world in order to come back with a baby in my arms. All of the nothing, the stress, and the feelings of guilt and defeat were preventing me from letting my soul go to that other world. The result? More nothing.

As we approached hour 7, we started to rack our brains for ideas. Lindsay asked the nurse if we should use nipple stimulation to get things going. The nurse said it was a good idea and added that we would need to monitor my contractions because the process can be explosive. Seriously? I'm no prude, but the last thing I want to do is have someone monitor me while I twiddle my nipples, especially if that someone isn't my husband. So we bagged the idea and decided it would be better to take a nap while we waited for the contractions to worsen.

At 9pm, everyone left the room except for Ferris who turned on some Paolo Nutini and then sacked out on the couch next to my bed. It only took a few minutes for me to realize I was never going to be able to sleep. So...um...I took the secret opportunity to...um...well...go for the explosion, as they say. Unmonitored. That's right, folks. I twiddled my nipples, and I'll be damned if not 30 seconds into it my contractions didn't upgrade at least two gears.

I'm not even kidding. Nothing to full on labor in less than a minute.

I'd love to give my explosive nipples and the subsequent rush of oxytocin all the credit, but I also need to recognize that having several quiet moments of uninterrupted focus helped me get my head in the right place. Within an hour, with all systems in full gear, I finally took a moment to look at Ferris. Between the strengthening contractions, I caught his gaze just long enough for both of us to feel the relief. I started to cry and then lost myself in his protective grasp. We were having a baby...at long last.

I realize this is totally unfair and slightly lame, but I need to pause here. This story was only suppose to be a two-parter, but my 2 year old has the patience and attention span of a gnat and my newborn needs to eat. I'm also realizing just how much I'm enjoying walking through this story again. Until then.

The post that was supposed to be the labor story

2010-01-14T16:18:00.001-05:00

I think I've avoided posting over the last few days because the next post was going to be THE LABOR STORY. I think my subconscious is telling me I need to get in a good head space before I can write it properly. Or perhaps I just need to have a bit more energy. Methinks the two ear infections I've had for the last two weeks have started to drive me crazy. I can't recall ever getting an ear infection in my whole life. Ever...until a few days after Miles was born. Aaaaaawwwwesome timing, Universe. Then, one ear infection led to another and, before I could say amoxicillian, it felt like I was living underwater. You know that terribly annoying thing that happens after swimming when your ears plug up with water? And remember how it feels to go up and down in a plane with the whole ear popping thing? Now imagine putting those two sensations together and add a little more hearing loss and twice the pressure BECAUSE MY EARS WON'T POP.

Basically, I've been running around with a baby stuck to my boob saying, "Wha? What did you just say? The blue barn ran across the meadow with a stray basketball? That doesn't make any sense."

Right.

So instead of a labor story, you're going to get a short list of books and movies that have kept me amused during an otherwise unpleasant experience.

Avatar: This movie looked laughable to me. The commercials were cheesy, and I totally didn't get the whole blue monster scenario. Sugar, let me tell you, I've never been more wrong. The plot was a bit over the top, but the cinematography was some of the best I've ever seen. Dare I say genius? A must see in the theater to get the full 3-D effect. P.S. Sam Worthington is my new grade school crush.

500 Days of Summer: I love Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He's a fully grown man, but somehow he seems so harmless and puppy-like. I also tend to love most Sundance official selections. This movie is enchanting and light hearted and smart and lovable and a lot of other sweet things.

Paper Heart: Where did this movie come from? And who the hell is Charlyne Yi? And is this a real movie or is it a true story? Perhaps a documentary? And why haven't I found a way to meet Micheal Cera? And why can't I frequent all the same parties he frequents? And how could I possibly be any cooler? Seriously, I need to be cooler if I plan to run with Yi and Cera.

The Pilots Wife: I started this book the week of my freakish 'NOT ACTUAL LABOR' and finished it a few days after Miles was born. It was a nice, short, page turner with really good writing that miraculously took my mind off the 'NOT ACTUAL LABOR' for a short time.

A labor story 2.0, part one

2010-01-11T08:44:00.007-05:00

I've spent some time trying to figure out when this story actually began and how best to tell it. Truthfully, there are two stories, the one leading up to the labor and the labor itself. It's probably best to give a timeline first which means we should start where we left off. I want so much for this story to be happy and inspired and full or anticipation, but that's not at all what I experienced. The week leading up to Miles' birth was one of the most trying of my life. I was challenged both physically and mentally. My heart ached to hold my baby as I willed my body to move forward.

Monday, 12/21, noon: Contractions every 5-10 minutes, 3 cm dilated, doctor strips my membranes and sends me into a wicked, beyond uncomfortable early labor.

Tuesday, 12/22: Same shit, about four hours of sleep. Ferris and I go to the hospital and quickly get sent home. Every time someone tells me I'm not in 'actual labor' I want to throw a very sharp object at their head. I want to cause PERMANENT damage.

Wednesday, 12/23: Same shit, different day. With a sleeping pill, I only get two hours of sleep because this 'NOT ACTUAL LABOR' doesn't feel very good. Doctor visits. I'm 4+ cm and get stripped again. Contractions get worse and then stop and then start and then stop and then start and then stop and then...I'm starting to reconsider the merits of stripping membranes.

Thursday, 12/24: Same shit, another different day. With a sleeping pill, I get two hours of sleep. I have now played one bazillion hours of snood by the glow of the MacBook between the hours of 1:30-6:30am. I'm starting to enter 'the bad place' in my mind and soul. This must end...very soon. My doctor has given the option of breaking my water to see if things will progress. Since I'm not in 'ACTUAL LABOR', this is considered an intervention and comes with a set of risks. When you break the water, you start the clock. If labor doesn't start, I'll have to get meds to make it start. If that doesn't work, I could eventually end up with a c-section...and on and on we go. I get conflicting yet supportive advice from friends and professionals. I'm unbelievably pissed and anguished at being in this position. This feels unendurable.

11am: I decide to go for a walk. No one wants me to go alone, but I insist that I need to spend some heady time on my own to make a decision.

11:45am: My mind is clear and confident. I have decided that breaking my water is a reasonable, safe decision. I talk to my doula, Lindsay, to make plans. I call Ferris at work to tell him we're going to meet the doctor at the hospital to get this show on the road. Ferris is terrified because he knows too much about the risks. Now that I've made a decision, I have set my mind on my labor and on my baby. On the way to the hospital, Ferris is quiet and pensive. I look at him and say, "The decision is made. We're now on the baby train, lover." He forces a smile and squeezes my hand. This could not feel any different than last time.

Christmas Eve, 2:30pm: The doctor breaks my water. Game on.

This. This, right here, is why I blog

2010-01-07T13:57:00.003-05:00

I was sitting on my couch snuggled up next to Mister Miles (as Eva likes to call him) surfing my most favorite blogs when I ran into this. Sweet Amy is like a soul sister. We've only communicated through a few emails, lots of thoughtful comments, and hours spent reading each other's blogs. We've never met, but I swear I must have known her in another life. And to stop by her Commonplace Life to find something so unbelievably unexpected, so thoughtful, so beautiful, so generous...there are no words.

I am simply undone.

My Eva

2010-01-05T15:40:00.004-05:00

I had big plans for today. Huge. I was going to brush my teeth, maybe even take a shower, run some errands. But then I got a wicked ear ache (crossing my fingers this doesn't turn into an infection) which has totally grounded me. Luckily, my mom arrives from Pocasmello tonight with angel wings and lots of energy for Miss Eva.

Speaking of angel wings and Miss Eva...

We took these shots as Christmas gifts for friends and family. Photographic evidence of her absolute dreaminess.

Watching the balls drop

2010-01-01T13:42:00.004-05:00

That's right. I said balls -plural- because that's what I'm dealing with. I swear to you, I didn't change his diaper (Ferris was on duty) for two days because I had no idea what to do with baby boy business. Let's just say, having cared for a boy and a girl, we use twice as many wipes with Miles, and I've already been peed on. Score one for the ladies.

I'm falling in love, you guys. The exhaustion after the delivery was so profound, it's taken a few days to recover and emerge from the fog. Now that I'm back (mostly), we're all falling into a magical, drifting kind of love. I thought there was no doubt I would be out cold when the real ball dropped for the New Year, but Miles had other plans. We were upstairs nursing at 11:45p so I decided to come downstairs only to find Eva (still awake!), Ferris, and his parents watching Ryan Seacrest make an ass of himself...forever, that dude will get paid millions to make an ass of himself and teachers will be slaves. But that's another post, all together. So there we all were, together, with a new plan to ring in the new year as a growing family, which interestingly enough will include a grumpy old Jewish man.

The calm after the storm

2009-12-29T12:47:00.004-05:00

Dude.

In a few days, I'm going to write the birth story for what can only be described as the most explosive few weeks of my entire life. The term 'roller coaster' sort of touches the experience around the edges but doesn't even come close to anything resembling accuracy.

Behold, Miles and I after 2 1/2 days of early labor. I'm running on about 5 hours of sleep during that entire time.

Behold, Miles and I this morning. Much better...for me, anyway. You'll have to ask Miles how he feels about the whole thing.

Behold, Miss Eva. To her credit, Eva's been a little rock star with Miles (Miiii-aaaalz, as she says it). Although, the image below pretty much sums up how she feels about the bomb that just exploded in our house.

Miles John Hatzenbuehler

2009-12-26T11:12:00.005-05:00

December 25, 2009
12:59am
8 lb 7 oz
21 1/2 inches

39 weeks and-BTW-I'm in labor

2009-12-22T12:09:00.007-05:00

Here's the deal. I've been having the prodromals for a few weeks now. Yesterday afternoon, those suck balls became more serious suck balls and started the dilation. So my doc and I decided to strip my membranes. If talking about membranes makes you queasy, you might want to stop right here 'cause this shit's about to get real. Yesterday afternoon I was 3+ cm. Don't know what I'm at now, but I can tell you I've been having painful contractions for 22 hours. Anyone who's had their membranes stripped can attest to the horrific amounts of pain and pressure that can ensue as a result. Last night during the bazillionth suck ball, I turned to Ferris to tell him just how awful I was feeling. He responded (in doctor mode) by saying that I wasn't really in labor, that what I was feeling wasn't a real contraction but rather 'discomfort', and that it was possible I could be in this phase for another week.

And then my head exploded and I presented him with divorce papers.

Ferris is actually right, although I needed him to be my husband and not my doctor at that point. Let's just say that after he iced his crotch for an hour or two, we were able to engage in a more productive conversation. Technically, I'm in labor...just not active labor. I'm slowly dilating and enduring these suck balls as I wait for them to get a bit more organized. Once they get organized, though, it's totally GAME ON.

Christmas 2009, part two

2009-12-18T04:44:00.003-05:00

At about 31 seconds, you'll hear me breathe through one of the bazillion prodromal contractions I've had this week.

Untitled from Stephanie on Vimeo.

38 weeks

2009-12-16T08:19:00.002-05:00

I've experienced what many people in the business refer to as having 'dropped'. The baby moved further down into my pelvis making it much easier to breathe but much more uncomfortable getting around. Interestingly, I've finally measured on target (38 cm) instead of the usual (big) along with the dropping. I'm also still having 'false labor' contractions with the occasional seriously painful one. Basically, it's like I'm a jet-liner taxiing patiently on the tarmac as I wait for lift off. The only problem is not knowing where I am in line.

Ferris has taken to avoiding me at all costs. Well, he's not avoiding me as much as he's avoiding anything and everything that would lead to another explanation of how I'm feeling. He sweetly asked me a totally benign question last night to which I answered with a passionately volumed nine minute diatribe about how much things SUCK. He just sat there, wide-eyed and blinking, like a deer caught in the headlights. Lesson learned.

And later that night as I was getting ready for bed, I found that Eva had pulled her stool into my bathroom. She found a bottle of Vaseline, smothered gobs of said Vaseline all over the jewelery that was sitting in a dish next to the sink, stuffed the jewelery in my neti pot, and then filled it with water. A more energetic mother would have immediately taken care of the mess. Me? I took one look (maybe three or four looks), grunted, and headed to bed. Certainly there are magical elves to take care of that stuff for miserably pregnant women. If not, I'm sure Ferris will be happy to oblige.

Christmas 2009, a two part series

2009-12-15T19:14:00.004-05:00

There are years when the very best we can do is head down to the local gas station to pick up our tree. Those are the years when time and effort are at a limited quantity. That's what we should have done this year, but instead we went our usual route of hiking through the woods to find the perfect tree.

The perfect tree that would collapse in our living room, destroying all of our precious ornaments in its path.

So while we wait for this baby to arrive, lets pause for a moment to enjoy the spirit of Christmas and the path to destruction.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Not enough baby and too much whatever

2009-12-14T22:19:00.007-05:00

I've been having mini somethings sort of like contractions...maybe contractions...for most of the evening. Something is happening, but who the hell knows how it will play out? Check back in two weeks when I'll still be pregnant and shooting gallons of caster oil in a desperate attempt to become unpregnant. In the meantime, lets recap a few events that will help explain the smidgen of a bad mood I'm currently experiencing.

Sunday afternoon as I was finishing the editing on my last few photo shoots, Eva leaned over and inserted a CD up-side-down into my laptop. The computer, subsequently, flipped out. Ferris and I tried to work our tech savvy magic, all to no avail. And this afternoon when I took it to see the geniuses at the Apple store, they sent me away because I didn't have an appointment. Seriously? My pregnant ass has to come back in 24 hours while my people wait patiently for their pictures?

Oh, no you didn't.

And when I walked into my house just as the first of the weird, pseudo contractions started, I found our Christmas tree lying flat on the ground in the middle of the living room rug. The stupid thing took some sort of suicidal nose dive out of it's container, leaving a heap of needles and broken ornaments behind.

Unbe-FRIGGIN-lievable.

So tonight, as I try to get some sleep in preparation for the labor which probably won't happen, I ask you...no beg you to send calming, productive vibes my way. Mama needs them.

A sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce

2009-12-09T03:03:00.000-05:00

I spent most of last night's routine sleeplessness crossing my fingers that school would not be canceled this morning. It's the first time in my life I've been on the side of wishing against a snow day. Somehow, that makes me feel evil...possibly morally bankrupt...totally uncool, at the very least. At this moment, school is closed while itty bitty flakes stream down at an oddly fast clip. So, Eva and I are cuddled on the couch eating waffles and watching Blue's Clues. Well, she's watching cartoons. I'm editing my most recent photo shoot.

Let's discuss.

I've decided I'm a terrible holiday card photographer...the absolute worst. If you're looking for someone to capture your family in a poised, all looking at the camera at the same time, bright eyed and smiling kind of way, I'm not the woman for you. That said, I'm one hellova great person for the job if you want to lay around and capture your family looking pretty much...well, the way you look.

It's damn near impossible to get a toddler to sit still for longer than three seconds. It's even more impossible, after you finally get their attention, to have all the other family members smiling toward the camera. Impossible, I tell you. So instead of fighting my instincts, I try to play to my strengths and focus on how the family interacts. Inevitably, my favorite shots are the ones where no one is looking at the camera, instead, looking at each other in a way uniquely their own.

First snow

2009-12-07T11:55:00.003-05:00

It snowed for a minute and a half back in October which totally doesn't count, in my opinion. Sunday morning, we woke up to a gorgeous three inches, most of which is still on the ground covering the sludgy remnants of fall. After a slow morning, I met some peeps at my studio and snapped this shot while everyone was getting ready. I love the tip tops of the trees dusted with white powder and the sweet pigeons lining the roof top in the top left corner. I would kill to get their perspective of the city...a photographer's dream come true. Until I sprout wings, I'll have to be satisfied with the awesome view from 521.

37 weeks, killing two birds with one stone

2009-12-06T11:39:00.006-05:00

Damn, I look good. 95% of the time, I waddle around feeling like total crap. Seriously, I'm uncomfortable and huge and rapidly approaching a time when I will outweigh my husband. There are a number of women who outweigh their wispy husbands during pregnancy, but Ferris is not a small dude. He's a muscley, barrel chested, football player guy who I will soon be able to smother with my ass.

What I'm trying to say is that it's nice to take a good picture where I don't look like a linebacker.

We're near the end, folks. It's hard to say when things will really start rolling because of two important factors. I'm still measuring 2 weeks ahead and have been consistently for months. This could predict an earlier delivery or simply sucky luck for me. We also mustn't forget that Eva was two weeks late. Again, this isn't a telling sign of another late delivery, but it certainly weighs on my mind. So, there you have it. Your guess is as good as mine.

I took this week's photo in my new dining room. It's not so much new as it is newly painted, a ravishing Chinese teal that rocks my world. People, I love this color and encourage all of you to go balls to the walls when it comes to surrounding yourself with color. The light fixture is from West Elm, the hutch was custom made (for super cheap) by an artist in Seattle, and everything else in the room was thrifted from places around Portland.

The moral of the story is, I'm happy with the room and I'm happy with the belly.

Pregnancy product roundup

2009-12-03T10:03:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling a serious urgency to get nested, probably because I'm hoping the earlier I nest the earlier the baby will arrive. I'm a fool, a glutton for punishment. Someone slap me out of this ridiculous fantasy world before I find myself sitting on my swollen ass in the middle of January with nothing to do but count my eye lashes. On the bright side, the urgency to nest has given way to the creation of a list of things I've really enjoyed during this pregnancy. It's almost as if I want to document the things this baby and I enjoy before I'm too sleep deprived to remember my own name.

* Pre-natal massage: Seriously, I can't say enough about the benefits of this investment. In the Portland area, I've found The Jade Trade to be top notch. Ask for Ricky. God made her hands specifically to nurture the roundest among us. I can't help but believe the absence of back pain during this pregnancy has everything to do with giving myself this gift. And they take insurance!

* Secret Fit Shaper: I use this less for shapeliness than to prevent spontaneous combustion from my thighs rubbing together. Very comfy, very supportive, very fire proof.

* Be Maternity Essential Ruched Tank: Dude. This is the comfiest item of foundation wear I've ever worn, and there's no doubt it will continue to be a staple long after the baby is in my arms. Soft fabric, endless stretchability. Buy it in your first trimester, and it will take you all the way to the end and back again.

* REN Clean Active Bio Skin Care: I ran out of several skin care favorites in the beginning of this pregnancy. Because there are SO MANY unfriendly chemicals which are totally incompatible with pregnancy, I decided to periodically change to REN. I use the Active 7 Eye Maintenance Gel which I've found to be more than adequate. It's not quite as good as my usual, but I feel good knowing I'm doing a good thing for the babe.

Mae

2009-11-30T14:41:00.002-05:00

This shot, this moment is why I love photography. This is baby Mae (cutest name, right?), most charming baby in the universe. And she has a lovely mama who obviously adores her. This is what it's all about, people.

Tis the season to be grateful

2009-11-28T15:40:00.003-05:00

This picture was taken by Anna about 4 seconds after Eva and I rolled out of bed...thus, the awesome bed head. We decided to wait for Anna outside on the porch and did our very best to keep bundled...thus, the two headed monster.

In this moment, I am grateful for Eva who is sitting on the other side of the couch eating strawberries, periodically leaning over to ask me to bite off the 'green trees' so she can enjoy them sans stem.

I'm grateful for the baby I haven't met yet who is stretching his/her rump up into my right rib cage. I'm also grateful that there are only four weeks until our introduction.

I'm grateful for my husband who is upstairs riding the bike trainer I got him for his birthday while watching season 1 of Arrested Development. The idea is to have some form of exercise at our fingertips when we're likely not to leave the house until mid March. On second thought, perhaps it wasn't especially wise to choose a form of exercise requiring me to straddle a bike seat after giving birth.

I'm not grateful for bike seats.

Sneak preview

2009-11-25T10:49:00.007-05:00

I've been dying to write about my carpenter, Tim (his real name is J. Timian, space ranger). He's been here for 2 1/2 weeks, today being his last day and a very sad day for me. No joke, homey is hilarious and, truth be told, I love having him around. While he's working, he talks to himself in various accents and curses under his breath like a drunk sailor on leave in the Old Port. Let's just say, it's been an education for miss Eva. I asked Ferris if we could put him on retainer to which he responded, "Do you have a trust fund I don't know about?"

I'll write more about the project when it's finished, but those of you who knew what we started with will die when you see these pics. We are, as they say, transforming. And with this project nearly finished, the nesting will commence.

P.S. JT asked me, rather demanded that I not post a picture of him with his homeless beard, but I think that's all part of the fun.

At least I wasn't the oldest person there

2009-11-24T14:18:00.002-05:00

The sweetest turd in the world is very busy this afternoon not taking her nap. Seriously, folks. This is not a good time to go back to the no napping. Mama is 35 weeks and in need of a major snoozer. Eva? She would rather do anything in the world than rest, including eat her broccoli. At least I can get some satisfaction from that. My Mother the Prude said I stopped napping before I was 2. Forget about marrying a Catholic or moving across the country. No naps at 2 has to be the most brutal thing I've ever done to her.

As for New Moon, let's discuss.

I loved it simply because it demands to be loved. Jacob was so hot, at one point I thought I would hyperventilate...me, and all the other 15 year old, pimple-faced tweens who bought tickets a week in advance and stood in line to get into the theater. The last time I stood in line for a movie was to see the final Hobbit movie at the historic Cinerama in Seattle...a very worthy and respectable event. New Moon at the Cinemagic in Westbrook? Not so much.

But we don't care about that, right?

Edward looked terrible which I totally dug because it gave us the chance to fall in love with Jacob, very suitable in relation to the second novel. I would have liked to see more dialogue, like in Twilight, to explain more about all the cool stuff that happens to Jacob when he becomes a werewolf. The whole thing seemed a bit stilted in terms of really getting into the characters like in the book.

That said, I thought it was totally playful and visually appealing and worth every single second of escape into their world.

A collection of collectables

2009-11-20T10:35:00.006-05:00

It's Friday, which means I'm running on vapors. Happy vapors but vapors nonetheless. We're doing some construction on the house in preparation for the baby, and just for fun we added the painting of most of our downstairs. My house is in utter disarray, and, miraculously, I seem to be coping. Our carpenter and dear friend (who I'll be featuring next week) is kicking some serious ass, making our house look even more beautiful than I imagined. Perhaps that's what makes the dealing so much easier.

In honor of a happy and vapor-filled day, I've decided to have fun with this post. Mind over matter, kids.

Chookooloonks posted a list of things she collects. Here's my list of 5:

1. I love skirts. I have a million of them. It has something to do with whimsy but more to do with the proportion of my ass and its inability to find good-fitting pants.

2. Wine goblets. I go to the Goodwill and buy hoards of goblets to use as votives. They're a beautiful and unexpected way to set the mood.

3. I've recently started collecting interesting teas. I'm a coffee girl, but something about this pregnancy is demanding several cups per day. Traditional Medicinals has a radical Pregnancy Tea that's rocking my world.

4. Pictures of water. They can be images I've taken or art I've collected over the years, but it's been brought to my attention that much of my work and the work I collect has an element of water in it. There must be something in my soul that requires fluidity.

5. Earrings. I hesitated putting this on the list because it seems sort of cliche, but I couldn't consider myself an honest person if I excluded my massive collection of enormous earrings. The bigger, the more colorful, the more outrageous, the more offensive, the better. I'm totally content to leave the house without combing my hair or brushing my teeth, but you will NEVER see me out and about without earrings.

We also need to talk about New Moon which is released nationwide today. The Times did a fairly cheeky review here. And you best believe I preordered my tickets and will be attending the movie this evening. If you're planning to see the movie as well, please oh please come back and tell me what you think.

Happy weekend, everyone.

34 weeks and measuring 36

2009-11-17T14:01:00.005-05:00

Yesterday afternoon, my doctor placed her hands all around my belly...pushing a little here, feeling the baby kick over there. Finally, she said, "Yep, there's quite a bit of fluid in there, and that's not a small baby." She offered an ultrasound but said it wouldn't tell us much. It might even give us unnecessary reason for concern. I was right there with her and happily declined. If there's a giant baby (oxymoron?) in there, I absolutely positively DO NOT WANT TO KNOW. My vaginal canal shudders just thinking about it.

Last Friday, I slithered down the stairs after putting Eva to bed. That little turd finally allowed me to snuggle her to sleep without weeping and wailing for DADDY. I waddled into the living room just as Ferris looked up and stared for a few seconds too long.

"What?"

"You look...how should I put this? You look like death."

"Nice."

"Seriously, you've never looked worse."And just as I was about to lose myself in a fit of tears, Ferris walked over to me, rubbed his hand up and down my back, and said, "I promise I will never do this to you again. Now go to bed...I won't take no for an answer."

I wanted to be mad at him for his seemingly insensitive remarks, but he wasn't telling me anything I wasn't already feeling. In fact his honesty, delivered as lovingly as possible, was somehow comforting...a relief and validation. He got it...just how much work this whole baby making thing can be. Only your most intimate partner can tell you the truth and live to tell the story.

I slept for 12 hours straight.

Open and Shut

2009-11-16T14:19:00.007-05:00

Did you guys know that when you're not running around like a chicken with your head cut off, there are lots more hours in the day? I swear it. With the show done and a 'last day of work' scheduled for Dec 18th, I've noticed an enormous leap in the amount of time...TIME, PEOPLE...in the day. There's time for walks and baking and vacuuming and laundry. There's even time for, uhhum. Unbe-FRIGGIN-lievable.

The show went really well. There were hoards of people there which is always a bit overwhelming, but lots of my folks showed up. It makes it so much easier to see familiar faces in a crowded room. I talk about my peeps all the time. My peeps are my family who mean the world to me. Old peeps, new peeps, anonymous peeps. Perhaps that's why I love blogging so much. I'm connected to you, more of my peeps, who help sustain what I love to do. And I get to peek in on your lives to see what sustains you. In all seriousness, every single comment (even the not nice ones) mean a great deal to me. I read everything and notice everyone. Blogging and photography keep me connected and fulfilled.

About the show...it's taken a while for me to formulate how I really feel about it. A number of people commented that my work has progressed and seemed fuller. I don't disagree, but I can't say that I'm fully content with the way things turned out. I'm more than happy given the lack of time and energy I had to prepare. The collection was beautiful, but it left me wanting. The whole show left me with the feeling that there's so much more I could do. I think about making a book, cards, a calendar, or perhaps selling my prints online. More than anything, I know I have better work still to come. Creating beautiful work takes time and a full investment. I'm looking forward to next year when I plan to make that investment happen.

I'm fulfilled. I'm inspired. I want more.

Yesterday morning, I met my dear friends at my studio for a family photo session. The image above was taken from my studio window just before they showed up. Just imagine walking on the sidewalk below, watching my swollen ass teeter out a 5th story window! When I talk about family, I'm talking about these people. Lindsay was my doula when Eva was born and will be with me when the next little one decides to make an entrance. Ted was a resident with Ferris which means we all held on to to each other for dear life for the entire four years. And those sweet babies, Layla and Simon, could possibly be the cutest little chunka monkas I've ever seen.

Josh Ritter, Idaho

2009-11-13T11:05:00.002-05:00

I'll be back to talk about the show in a minute. Until then, please enjoy my new flavor.

Idaho - Josh Ritter

Mamaletter: 30 months

2009-11-12T07:04:00.001-05:00

Dear Eva,

I need to start by informing you that you're currently in one of the best stages of your life. I would also like to mention that a few months ago, you were in the absolute worst stage of your life. Over the 2 1/2 years we've been hanging out, you've taught us one very significant truth. You feel things very deeply, and you experience things to their absolute fullest. When you feel good and happy, life couldn't be any better. When you feel bad and frustrated, life could not be any worse. Aaaaaaannnnnnd, you let us know about it...one way or the other. You don't want to take your PJs off? A simple 'no thank you' would suffice, but, instead, you often choose to flail your body on the ground, kicking and screaming as if your daddy or I had just informed you that Dora and Elmo are dead. In other words, you would rather impale your eyes with a used Q-tip than take off your PJs. We get it.

Sometimes I think the rough spots happen right before you're about to go through a major developmental break through. It's an unraveling of sorts...a regression that gives way to something bigger and better. No doubt, you experience frustration because you WANT to do something your brain or your body can't quite accomplish. But when things happen, you turn into the most delightfully happy child the world has ever known. Your language, for example has exploded. Nanny came to visit last week, and when she rested next to you the night before she left she said, "Eva, I'm going to miss you. I have to go to Idaho in the morning." To which you replied, "That's ok. Eva go with you. Go in a boat. Mama and Dadda and Jackson go with you to Idaho in a boat." Yes, my love, we'll all need a boat to get us around with the amount of tears you elicit from the people who love you.

And, then, there was Halloween. Grandma has a serious obsession with this holiday, her very favorite of all the gifting holidays. She gave you the most radical lion costume which you wore as often as we would allow. In fact, you and your daddy ran in a race with you as a lion and your daddy as the lion tamer (the race you, as a chicken, and I ran last year). Appropriately so, you both won the award for best costume.

We should definitely discuss your budding attachment to your daddy. You two have developed something fierce that's not to be messed with. Daddy needs to put you to bed every night without exception. Since you transitioned into your 'big girl bed', you sometimes wake up in the middle of the night demanding to sleep in 'daddy's bed'. Several months ago, your daddy would have never allowed this, but lately he seems to need you just as much as you need him. When we all wake up in the morning, you open your eyes, tap your daddy or me on the forehead and say, "Mama/Dadda, I love you." There is nothing, nothing in the world, I'd rather hear than you saying those words.

You've probably already noticed, but something very peculiar is happening inside my belly. We talk all the time about the baby. You've even felt the baby move, which elicits a cacophony of giggles, but I'm pretty sure you haven't figured out that soon the baby will be in our home and no longer in my belly. My sweet love, I imagine you'll be totally enamored with the new creature for a while, but I also imagine it will be a difficult transition for you. There will be some major changes and adjustments required of you, all of which your daddy and I will try our best to ease you through. Please know that you'll always be my special little one.

There will inevitably be some difficult transitions, but I can't imagine a sweeter, more loving, more dynamic big sister than you. You, my love, are the reason your daddy and I decided to have another baby. You, my love, have made everything in our world brighter and bigger and full of everything good. I want more of that. I want more of you. I cannot wait for you to meet your new baby sister or brother because there is no doubt you will teach us all just how magnificent love can be.

Love,

Mama

Around the horn, so to speak

2009-11-09T17:24:00.004-05:00

Today's post is going to be a little scattered, partially because there are a number of things to talk about and partially because my brain is fried and I'm battling another cold. The latter of which was brought to you by the lovely cold season germs from Little School.

The show last Friday was fabulously surreal to say the least. I'll need a bit more time to digest the whole thing and will write all about it soon.

I'm so happy to announce that Kathleen of Mamas Always Write has recently taken a job as the Portland Motherhood Examiner. She wrote a piece about me, ta-da, and several other pieces here. Check back often. She's the best.

I've recently been introduced to a kick ass blog, Bitches on a Budget. It's a book (soon to be published) with a TV show in the works and they recently wrote a piece about motherhood which included a little diddy about me. Check it out over here.

Every year, I donate a photo session to Eva's school for their silent auction. A very sweet family bid for me, and I'm posting a few shots of a photo shoot we did last Sunday morning. It was my first time trying to get two parents, a 4 year old, and a 1 year old to look at the camera (all smiling charmingly) at the same time. It was like herding cats, but I managed to get a few sweet shots.

Cheeser, if you please

2009-11-05T19:16:00.003-05:00

Now, if that doesn't look like the face of a successful artist (bust out your checkbooks, ladies and gentlemen), I don't know what does. Don't tell my social work boss, but I skipped out on the last hour of work this afternoon to dot my I's and cross my T's at the gallery. You guys, I'm totally proud of this show.

Ferris (dear, lovable, lover Ferris) hung the show with the help of J. Timian on Sunday. Luckily, I had the topography laid out before Eva lost it. With each piece where it needed to be, Ferris was able to get things on the wall so I could take the sick one home for a nap. This afternoon was spent tweaking the lighting, placing tags, and hanging the Artist Statement. It looks great, if I don't say so myself.

I've approached things a little differently this time. Having never hung a solo show, I spent much of the last show hanging things I thought would sell. I was a bit more concerned with producing stuff that would be accepted in the art world. This time around, I've taken a greater creative hand and hung stuff I love, stuff that means a great deal to me. There's a series from the street I grew up on in Pocasmello and a series from Portland. I also experimented with diptychs, combining images in a way that is totally inspiring to me. It's supposed to be playful and challenging...maybe even a little joyful.

I hope to see you there. If you live in the area, please feel free to come and introduce yourself. I would love to meet you.

Color and Contrast

Opening November 6th, 5-8pm

Exhibiting through Nov 28th

The Gallery at Harmon's and Barton's

584 Congress Street - 2nd Floor
Portland, ME

32 weeks

2009-11-03T19:26:00.004-05:00

For the record, I think this pose is hilarious. I usually take 5-10 shots and pick the one that looks the least ridiculous. I had my eye on a different image, but Ferris insisted I use this one. His reasoning? He said I look feisty.

I love that man.

Everything is going well, other than the 3 gallons of trapped gas I'm holding behind the creature. I seriously think I'm measuring big because I haven't been able to fart adequately since I peed on the stick. Just imagine experiencing non-stop, epic fart pressure for 32 weeks without the ability to do anything about it. AND BELIEVE ME, I've tried. I drink the special tea, I lay on my left side, I assume the fart position (downward dog with your tush in the air), I pray to the virgin Mary who you'd think would have some empathy. I'm being serious. All you free farters enjoying your luxurious free farting can sit on it and spin.

In other news.

Question 1 failed, and the people's veto prevailed. The gays lost, we lost, people suck.

Grumble.

Update: If you're interested, Time Mag has a pretty good article about the whole shabang over here.

Happy voting day, my peeps

2009-11-03T14:32:00.005-05:00

It's voting day, so I've decided to piss off half of my readers by discussing the current situation in Maine, Question 1. Mainers know what I'm talking about and probably already know what I'm about to say. For the lovely others, Question 1 is our marriage equality bill. In other words, it's the gay marriage bill. The bill was passed by the Maine legislature, signed in by our Catholic Governor, and is now up for ratification or veto by popular vote. I'll try to make this short and sweet.

Let me start by saying this.

I'm not all that pissed about what happened in California with Prop 8. While I still believe most of the opposition was based on fear and discrimination, I understand the people who opposed it because of language. It didn't explicitly protect everyone (i.e. clergy who would refuse to marry a gay couple). That is exactly why I support this bill. It's about upholding equality and the protection of personal rights for everyone. The language, as taken directly from the Maine Citizen's Guide, is as follows:

Marriage is the legally recognized union of 2 people. Gender-specific terms relating to the marital relationship or familial relationships, including, but not limited to, "spouse," "family," "marriage," "immediate family," "dependent," "next of kin," "bride," "groom," "husband," "wife," "widow" and "widower," must be construed to be gender-neutral for all purposes throughout the law, whether in the context of statute, administrative or court rule, policy, common law or any other source of civil law. This Part does not authorize any court or other state or local governmental body, entity, agency or commission to compel, prevent or interfere in any way with any religious institution's religious doctrine, policy, teaching or solemnization of marriage within that particular religious faith's tradition as guaranteed by the Maine Constitution, Article 1, Section 3 or the First Amendment of the United States Constitution. A person authorized to join persons in marriage and who fails or refuses to join persons in marriage is not subject to any fine or other penalty for such failure or refusal.

Each time I pass the 'Yes on 1' people (meaning, people who want to deny marriage equality) waiving their signs on Forest and Marginal Way, I want to barf out my car window. I support their right to picket, but I can't help but wonder what's so scary about gay marriage. When everyone's rights are protected, what's the big whoop? As a hetero spouse and family member, I think giving everyone the right to marry (aka, solidify families) only serves to strengthen our communities.

People often have trouble with the word 'marriage' and think gay couples should be content with civil unions. Here's the problem with that. Civil unions are 'separate but equal' and don't receive the same legal protection as marriages, especially if you have a conservative judge. We're talking about children being taken away from a (gay) parent if a judge doesn't recognize the union. It brakes my heart in a thousand different pieces to think of that happening. I try to imagine if I were in a gay civil union and lost my spouse through death or divorce. A judge could potentially deem that I wasn't considered a parent because my spouse was the adoptive parent. Besides living in constant fear, I would go batshit crazy if I lost my kids. You would have to lock me up and plug in an IV of your strongest sedatives. I would be homicidal.

And that shit happens every day.

The bottom line is this. Any time a family can remain together or a couple can stabilize and solidify their commitment, everyone wins. It's about love, people. L-to the-O-to the-VE. Love.

The most beautiful girl I've ever seen with a kabob

2009-10-30T07:17:00.002-05:00

Because my brain is still mush...because I'm not sleeping well...because Eva has a fever and a croupy cough...because we must have a follow up to the ever popular Business Time, I give you this.

Special thanks to J. Timian, homey of all homeys. Word.

A slight disruption in our regularly scheduled program

2009-10-29T17:11:00.004-05:00

I'm a strong believer that the human brain has finite capacity, meaning it's only possible to deal with a limited amount of stuff at any given time. Ladies and gentlemen, we have officially hit capacity here at The Letter's Edge.

I'm dealing with a little bit of this and a little bit of that. There's nothing to be super worried about accept the show. I'm nervous and excited, so much so that I can't concentrate on anything else.

I'm completely incapable of anything substantial, so I decided to make these cookies. Amy, my dear. Those bitches are every bit as delectable as you said. Every. Single. Bit. Thank you for supporting my body's effort to double in size over the next 9 weeks.

I'm still enjoying date night. Truthfully, I'm finding it difficult to sit in a theater or restaurant seat with the least bit of comfort, but time with Ferris is just as delectable as Amy's cookies. To celebrate, I offer an encore presentation of...

To the archives for inspiration

2009-10-27T16:13:00.004-05:00

Tuesdays are my very favorite day of the week for several reasons. First, it's my day with Eva. I started working 4 days/wk a few years ago. It was an excruciating decision but one that needed to be made mostly for financial reasons. Plus, it was my dream job. Things are different now. Ferris is no longer a resident and the creature in my belly (who at this very moment is kicking my left rib cage) along with Eva are calling me home again.

On the other hand, I've really enjoyed and been unbelievably edified by working outside the home. I don't have any answers or strong feelings about what's best. I just put one foot in front of the other at any given time and hope for the best. It's amazing how much flexibility and commitment it takes to make a family tick. All parts, all members are spokes on the wheel...totally necessary to maintain a smooth ride. And when one spoke breaks or weakens or needs to be shifted, the rest of the crew need to pull together to maintain the strength.

Not entirely sure why I'm thinking about this stuff today...possibly because everything is changing. Sifting through some old images, I came across these shots of an enormous lilac blossom I put in the kitchen window next to the conk shell from the Bahamas and the sea glass we collected on Squirrel Island. That was only a few months ago while just this morning Eva and I enjoyed a few minutes of rolling around in the fallen yellow leaves in our backyard. It seems just when we settle into a moment of calm the universe pushes us in another direction.

My head is spinning, although it helps to enjoy the scenery while I work to regain my balance.

M. Ward, Crooked Lines

2009-10-23T13:30:00.001-05:00

This song is slow and drunk and meanders through a keyhole somewhere in someplace. And then it takes a sweet afternoon nap under the golden red autumn leaves in my backyard.

Crooked Lines - M. Ward

Portrait of a family

2009-10-22T09:16:00.004-05:00

I may have written about this before. Who knows...what with all the gazillions of pages of stuff I've spewed over the years (BTWs, November is my blogiversary...5 years, 746 posts). It's sort of fabulously unthinkable in a way.

Anyhooters.

I was happily in the studio this week taking pictures of a beautifully pregnant woman and her toddler. I love being creative with my subjects. Each woman brings a totally unique vibe to the table, and I love love love exploring that and creating a uniquely individual image. That said, I always find myself coming back to this particular set up. Mama holding the child over the belly with the left hand showing the ring. Some people don't have rings, but there's usually some memento we can get in the shot depicting a significant other...the other parent or the life partner. This is my idea, or rather, interpretation of a family portrait. All individual elements are there...everyone all mushed and wound together similar to how we are in real life...a bunch or pretzeled people.

Plus, I can't help myself from snapping those little tushies. Out of this world cute.

Book 'em, Danno. I'm 30 weeks!

2009-10-20T12:22:00.002-05:00

My belly finally hit that awesome phase where it loses the softness and takes on a tight, firm shape. The baby is big enough to feel its hands and feet through my belly and strong enough to change my belly's shape with each roll or kick. I'm the coolest freak show on Earth.

To peek or not to peek, that is the question

2009-10-19T13:53:00.004-05:00

Let me start by saying I just drowned myself in 12 ounces of decadent coffee and devoured a peanut butter brownie the size of my head. In other words, mama is wired and ready to hop. I'm hoping the following post doesn't sound like I'm strung out on crack, but perhaps that might be fun, too.

I hit the 30 week mark today, meaning I've rounded a very important corner...the one where you can no longer put off the inevitable. This kid is coming, sooner rather than later, and it's time to get our shit in order. Frankly, I felt much better with Eva and totally dug the bizarre and beautiful changes happening to my body. That said, I was also pretty stressed about the unknown. I was stressed about having a name picked out, stressed about guessing the gender, stressed about getting everything 'ready'. This time around, all that has changed.

This week has also brought with it a sense of calm and peace. When faced with the urgency of 'getting our shit together', I realized we're more than half way there purely based on the fact that we've done this before. This morning, I talked with a friend who's 3 weeks ahead of me with her second child about getting the nurseries in order. Her response was something like this. "Well, uh, I don't know, we might just bed-in for awhile and piggy back on all the stuff we already have set up for Alexis. We'll see." The thing is? I feel the same way. I sort of feel like having some small diaps around, washing all of Eva's old onesies, and calling it good.

A few months ago, a dear reader (hi Maxwell!) asked what the big deal was about not finding out the gender. Ironically, people have some strong feelings about this sort of thing. It drives My Mother the Prude bat-shit crazy that I don't find out. She even threatened to procure my medical records. There are all sorts of great reasons to learn the gender early (most based on preparedness), but I feel pretty strongly that waiting is the right choice for us. Here's why.

I'm a monstrously intuitive person, sort of superstitious, and overly feeling to a fault. I enjoy being with my babies while they're in my belly and allowing them to introduce themselves to the world when they're damn well good and ready. It's a protective response. And the surprise, dear heaven, the surprise. Truthfully, the word 'surprise' doesn't do a remote bit of justice to the experience of growing a child for 40+ weeks, kicking labor in the ass, and then meeting the miraculous creature for the first time. I'm even a tad bit uncomfortable trying to explain it because it's impossible. It's so much bigger and more explosive than anything I could describe. I get why people find out as soon as possible, but I wouldn't trade my experience for anything in the world.

Which is why we're doing it again, but we're doing it a little differently. Last time, both Ferris and I were sure that Eva was a boy. We sort of planned for a boy and even had names picked out from very early on. Eva was supposed to be Lewis (if she were a boy) or Sylvie. We were dead-set on those names. Then, I went into labor and turned into the nutball, intuitive, superstitious, overly feeling person that I am and experienced something fairly remarkable.

I've had several spiritual moments in my life, this one landing on the top of the list in terms of absolute clarity. I was in the middle of labor, 5 centimeters dilated, when I became acutely aware that the baby was going to be a girl (the first girl feeling I'd had in that pregnancy) and that her name would be Eva (a name Ferris and I hadn't even talked about). I've never been so sure about anything in my life...and I'm trying my best not to exaggerate that point. I just knew. At first, Ferris wasn't too keen on the idea, but it didn't take much convincing once he understood how strongly I felt.

With all the planning and deciding and trying our best to divine our new future, Ferris and I found ourselves at square one. With this pregnancy, I haven't tried to figure anything out in terms of gender or name. We have a short list, or rather, a long list we'll use if we need to. Whatever. I may not have the same sort of revelation, but I'm trying my best to leave myself open to it. I may even experience something equally as spiritual and miraculous, but it may be totally different than what happened with Eva. Either way, I'm getting more and more excited to meet this little one...this precious little person.

Reaping the whackness

2009-10-15T18:38:00.007-05:00

The last time I visited my super hero doctor, she decided to run some tests because I've been feeling unwell for several weeks. Great news, all is ok. There was some whackness with my thyroid and I'm still measuring big but nothing too out of the ordinary during pregnancy. Basically, she told me to rest and take care of myself. Seriously? I have a full time job, a toddler, a show in thee weeks and she wants me to rest? Yes, she wants to me rest. I tell her I don't think that will be possible. She responds, "Then don't come complaining to me when you're tired."

Noted.

In all honesty, I'm ready to be done with the social work gig, but I've committed to see it through. I adore my boss beyond anything I've experienced. He is a soul mate and has become one of my dearest friends. I would walk off a cliff, gladly, if he asked me to. Eva is rocking my world right now. She's in a fantastic phase, and I'm loving every single minute I'm with her. And the show...the show...the show. There aren't enough hours to get everything done, but I love this work. I spent a few minutes in my studio this afternoon and had the strongest feeling that this is what I'm suppose to be doing. All of my extra time for the next few weeks will be spent on this show, but every single second of it feels totally and completely radical.

That said, I know my schedule is not sustainable, so I've decided to find ways to trim the fat. Until that happens, I would love for you to celebrate the upcoming show with me.

Stephanie Hatzenbuehler of Lula Photography

invites you to an Artist's Reception

Color and Contrast

Opening November 6th, 5-8pm

Exhibiting through Nov 28th

The Gallery at Haromon's and Barton's

584 Congress Street - 2nd Floor
Portland, ME

Wherein we discuss the merits of dragon breath

2009-10-13T13:31:00.004-05:00

Our little troop woke up together Monday morning...all of us crammed in our comfy queen bed because one little turd woke up at 3:30am and wouldn't go back to sleep until she found herself nestled into her daddy's right armpit. For the life of me, I can't understand that whole scenario. I woke up around 5:30am and found the two of them face-to-face, all kinds of breathing in each other's faces. Not a chance in hell you'd find me able to comfortably breath in Ferris' face, let alone prefer that as my favorite snugly spot. Not. One. Chance.

In other news, I've been happily editing the pics from my brother's wedding. Not too shabby, if I don't say so myself.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Brownie never saw it coming

2009-10-12T08:55:00.005-05:00

I returned from my brother's wedding in Utah late Saturday evening. It was an absolutely fabulous wedding (BTWs, my toast was off the hook), but as I walked up the sidewalk to my front door it took all my strength not to drop to my knees to kiss the red and yellow leaves that had fallen at my door step while I was away. The air was crisp with fall, the quintessential Halloween feeling peeking around the corner, and my house...oh, you guys...my house. More and more each time I return from a trip, I get a strange and comforting feeling that this will be my home for a very long time. Perhaps a very, very long time. The magic of those gorgeous protective mountains in the west will always hold a place in my heart, but Maine has become my home. The ocean has become my sanctuary.

I flew through Chicago on my way to Portland, however, it seems my luggage had a different itinerary and somehow found itself in PIA. Where is PIA, you ask? I had the same question. At 11pm, swollen from travel, exhausted beyond belief, I waddled up to the baggage desk and politely informed the baggage dude about my plight. Right next to me stood an overly animated and thoroughly pissed off queen shouting and rolling his eyes and wanting very much to bash some heads together. When the baggage dude informed me that my luggage was in Peoria, the whole situation catapulted into another stratosphere of bizarro and I burst into uncontrollable laughter. Friggin' Peoria? My eyes started watering, my already super-stretched abdominal muscles started to ache, and I laughed...I heaved...I shook with cackles as the queen and the baggage dude stared at me like I was out of my mind. Yes, you turds, I'm totally and completely out of my mind.

But I'd rather be laughing than crying, so count yourselves lucky.

I'm going to post some of my favorite pics from the wedding tomorrow. Until then, I'll leave you with a very special video. This is what happens when you leave a pregnant woman and a plate of brownies unattended.

Brownie Never Saw It Coming from Stephanie on Vimeo.

Regaining focus

2009-10-07T09:12:00.004-05:00

I had a nice conversation with a friend yesterday, a friend who I trust explicitly. We talked a bit about the absurd nutballness of my life and how that's been reflected in my writing on this blog. I asked her to comment, and with the warmest of smiles she replied, "It seems that your most recent writing is lacking focus." Man, I love that woman. It was exactly what I needed to hear.

Let me explain why my unfocused writing is reflecting my unfocused life.

I just lost my social work job. I still have funding through the end of the year, but there is lots of 'wrapping up' to do with the people I work with. Ending these work/service relationships has been excruciating. Dealing with the evil politics at the clinic where I work has been unendurable.

I was involved in a sexual harassment case at work. I was harassed. Everything has been taken care of in a solid manner. That's all, legally, I can say about that.

Lately, I've been feeling ill. The ouchy foot is 85% better, but I've been simultaneously feeling terrible...like I have a cold or fatigue virus that won't go away. I'm still measuring slightly big in the belly, but my superhero doc (and Ferris) are unconcerned because it's relatively normal. I realize I'm a pregnant woman with a 2 1/2 year old and more than one job...so, maybe that could be the reason for the fatigue. No doubt it's a contributor, but I still have a nagging feeling that something is not quite right. The baby is healthy, but I worry about myself. The doc ran some tests. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

I'm getting on an airplane in four hours for a brief trip to Utah for my big brother's wedding. Ferris and Eva are staying behind, for worse or for better. At this point, I don't think I could handle a cross-country trip with the sweet, sweet turd, but I'm going to miss Ferris and the turd like bananas.

I have a solo exhibit in three weeks, which I have barely started to prepare for. No joke, kids. I just barely starting printing the images and have not even started the framing process. Please, oh, please, cross your fingers that the gallery curator doesn't read this blog. There just isn't enough time and energy to get it all done.

Everything is in flux...constant flux. There are few things in my life, great and small, that aren't in the midst of major change....everything around me along with the beautiful baby inside me.

I imagine posting over the next few days is going to be rather light, so I thought I'd leave you with some gorgeous shots of my family's visit last week. My younger bro's family and my parents spent a few days here during the most beautiful time of the year in Maine. The apple-picking and subsequent crisp-making was out of this world.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Cider house rules

2009-10-06T18:30:00.000-05:00

A very mighty list, indeed

2009-10-05T10:20:00.006-05:00

I've been traveling around the internet, looking for inspiration among fellow blogger business people. You see, this blog and my photography business are soon to become my main gig...along with the whole mom thing (smirk, wink). It's an absolute dream come true, and I want to take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way. Even more, I want to position myself to create even more opportunities than I thought imaginable. I once heard someone say they don't believe in 'luck'. They believe in 'opportunity meets hard work'. Word.

Maggie Mason, of the Mighty Empire just wrapped up a campaign for Intel. She had previously created a Mighty List of things she wanted to accomplish in her lifetime, and, soon after, Intel came calling, ready to sponsor her quest. There is nothing happier or more inspiring than this.

It makes me so happy to see people prosper, expand, create, and live life to the fullest. Just when I think I can barely put one foot in front of the next, I look to lovely women like Maggie and dream.

Stay with me...I ramble, but I eventually get there

2009-10-02T07:05:00.004-05:00

One thing is certain. No two women describe femininity in the same way, let alone an entire planet of women. So...if that's the case, wouldn't it be fair to assume that having a desire to be heard and defined as a unique and lovely individual is a definition of femininity?

I'm going with it.

Lots of the studies said that women are unhappy, but they also said that women are much harder on themselves than men. Ferris reminds of this all the friggin' time. For a long time, I got steaming raged every time he told me I was crazy for banging my head against a wall (for all kinds of reasons...mostly feeling like a failure). After I while, I stepped back from the wall and thought, "Holy crap, he's right. What the hell am I doing?"

No doubt, we all pick up on cues as we grow up, cues that tell us we're not good enough...that it's not ok to be us. I would also argue that this is not gender-based. Lots of little boys get the same cues. The difference is how we see ourselves as we grow. Ferris thinks it's pretty simple. Once you've figured out that you're worth something (no matter how great or small the worth), it's time to make different choices. It's time to start acting like you're worth something.

I've been digging on a blog I ran across recently, Chookooloonks. Karen Walrond is a radical photographer and lovely thinker/writer. She posted a quote the other day that felt positively awesome.

"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty."

~Maya Angelou

Lovely. So instead of banging my head against a wall in frustration for having wasted so much time banging my head against a wall, I'm going to make a different choice. I'm going to delight and celebrate the uniqueness of my femininity and all the beautiful changes I've gone through. Why? Because I'm no longer 15 years old, and it's time to love the young women I was then...the 7 year old I was before that...the 31 year old I am now...and (God willing) the 50 year old women I will become.

Below is a sweet shot I got during a photo session with a lovely new mom and her 4 week old, Cooper. The sweetest.

Move over Gloria Steinem, here comes something meatier

2009-09-30T14:08:00.007-05:00

A friend sent me an article from the NY Times by Marueen Dowd, an op-ed piece called Blue is the New Black. I recommend reading it, although I think it's just the very tippy top of an extraordinarily large iceberg. Dowd informs us that women are decidedly less happy than we were 40 years ago (according to a billion studies).

I started taking anti-depressants 4 years ago. I feel better, yes, but I also feel worse. Since that time, I've realized that the great majority of my female friends were also taking anti-depressants and admittedly happier as a result. I have no doubt that, in most cases, we are medicating the problem instead of solving it. I also have no doubt that, at this point, medicating the problem is the best choice. How can we solve a problem we have yet to fully define?

We start by asking a few questions.

Arianna Huffington also wrote about the phenomenon saying, "According to study after study, women are becoming more and more unhappy. This drop in happiness is found in women across the social and economic landscape. It doesn't matter what their marital status is, how much money they make, whether or not they have children, their ethnic background, or the country they live in. Women around the world are in a funk." The unhappy trend started in the late 1970's at the same point when men's happiness started to increase.

The discussion continues with Marcus Buckingham who says, "Not only is this "tough life" significantly tougher on women than it is on men, but the advances of the last 40 years were supposed to have changed things for the better. And not just for womankind, but for each individual woman. The hard-won rights, opportunities, and advantages were supposed to have netted women more than just another burdensome role to play--"you at work." They were supposed to have fostered in each woman feelings of fulfillment and happiness, and even, for the special few, the sustained thrill of living an authentic life. This hasn't happened."

Here's what I think (taken with a few hundred grains of salt).

I believe that people (men and women) are most happy when they have control over their life. They are most happy when they feel as though they have authored their own trajectory...they are on a path they laid out for themselves. All of the research says this really isn't a gender thing. There continues to be a dominant patriarchal culture, but even that is becoming more balanced. Women outnumber men in the workforce, in education, and most studies have found that men are pulling their weight in terms of managing households. Believe it or not, there is a fair amount of gender parity. I believe the new found parity is part of the reason men have become happier. But, why oh why, would this make women sadder?

I think it's because we have evolved into a culture where most options and choices are endless, but that doesn't mean those options and choices are decidedly female...or rather, authored or created by females. Just because we have more and are doing more doesn't mean we are feeling better about who we are...female. I'm a thousand different things. I'm celebrated for being a thousand different things, but am I truly celebrated for my 'femininity' or 'femaleness'?

The answer is simple. No.

There's no one to blame. We can't blame Gloria Steinem for wanting equality (i.e. we can do anything a man can do). We had to start somewhere, and it seemed that comparing ourselves to men was the first place to go. But is comparing ourselves to men a productive or authentic activity? No. The only way we can be everything we need to be is to compare ourselves to ourselves. I don't want to be as good as a man. I don't want to have as much as a man.

I want to be a good as I can be. I want to have as much as I deserve.

The next question is how to define 'femaleness' or 'femininity'. In my opinion, that is the next task. Now that we 'have everything' in terms of equality, maybe it's time to figure out what we really want...who we really are...and start celebrating that. I want to measure myself against myself and celebrate the innate femaleness that comes from within me.

I also thinks it's important that we (females) don't wait around for anyone else to tell us we're ok. I think it best that we take a step forward, give ourselves a well-deserved pat on the back, and start from scratch. I think we all deserve a hug. I think the men in our lives deserve a hug. I think the children around us deserve a hug.

Perhaps, I'll spend the rest of the week thinking about what it means (to me) to be feminine. And, perhaps, I'll think about ways in which I can celebrate that.

Perhaps, I'll start today.

1. I am pregnant. The man in my life and I created a human life and the female body I inhabit is growing that baby. My female body is sustaining life. When I stop for a moment and allow myself to feel the power of that, I am overcome.

How about you? How do you define femininity? How do you celebrate it?

Ouchy oucherson ouch ouch

2009-09-29T07:24:00.003-05:00

Moments ago, I wobbled into the living room to find Eva chewing on one of Jackson's doggie biscuits. BTW, what's up with that? She's totally into Jackson food. Dude. When she realized she'd been caught, she buried her head under a pillow like an ostrich hoping I wouldn't be able to see her. News flash, kiddo. I can still see your rump...your big, fat, guilty, diapered rump.

The next piece of the puzzle is to explain why I'm wobbling. I'm not waddling quite yet, but rather limping precariously on one foot and one heel. The docs in my life say I have tendonitis of the something-or-other. I can't take any anti-inflammatory meds because of the baby in my belly, and there really isn't much else to do but rest and ice. Right, I'm hanging out with a 2 1/2 year old and I'm suppose to STAY OFF MY TENDONITIS-INFLICTED FOOT!

Unbe-FRIGGIN-lievable.

So, let's move on and discuss something much, much, much more delightful. I have a show coming up in November at The Harmon's and Barton's Gallery. The opening is Nov 6th (more details to come), so feel free to pencil me in. I've been experimenting a little bit. More to come on that in the following weeks, as well.

The image below was taken at my studio. I love doing fine art work, but portraiture is by far the coolest. People, especially beautifully round pregnant women, make divine subjects.

Nummy Socks

2009-09-25T16:56:00.005-05:00

We get through the first one pretty well. Things really start to deteriorate when she substitutes several letters in the Alphabet song with 'Daddy nummy socks'. Who the hell knows where that came from, but I like it.

I would also like to inform you all, having gone on record as predicting this, that I've gained 5 pounds since our last tally two weeks ago. Yes, we're all still healthy and happy in Hatzenbuehler Land, however, I would argue that the expansion in my cheeks and pregnant boobs have taken their health and happiness a bit too far.

Nummy Socks from Stephanie on Vimeo.

Wherein parenting takes a literal turn for the worse

2009-09-23T08:40:00.000-05:00

Over the past few months, we've been experimenting with Eva trading in the crib for her 'big girl' bed. Lots of factors went into the decision...needing the crib for the new baby, transitioning away from naps (ouch), and the fact that Eva is unlike most kids and never gets out of the bed.

Until now.

Ferris put Eva down this evening with the usual brushing teeth, sitting on the potty, reading books, singing songs, etc. He, then, walked down the hall into our bedroom where I was dutifully folding baskets of clean laundry (ahhum, playing sudoku and watching bad TV). A few minutes later I heard a faint knock from down the hall which I assumed was Jackson wandering up the stairs. If Eva was still awake, she'd be screaming her balls off from her bed, right? A few minutes more and both Ferris and I heard a few more knocks and a shuffle...clearly coming from Eva's room. Ferris' first instinct was to let her run amok until she got tired enough to go back to bed. I'm not quite so nice.

Once upon a time, my dad used to scare the living shit out of me if I got busted sneaking out of my bed. My cousin, Leslie, and I had lots of sleepovers where we'd do our best to sneak past my parent's bedroom into the kitchen in search of midnight snacks. Once, we made it all the way to the kitchen, stole a box of Cocoa Puffs, and headed back down the hall only to run smack into my father who had been waiting patiently around the corner to scare us to death. Arms folded over his chest, he didn't say a word...just stood their giving us the evil eyes. One look was all it took. Both Leslie and I threw the box of Cocoa Puffs sending little brown pebbles flying in all directions and ran screaming back down the hall to my bedroom. My dad looked so mean and mad and ready to kick some ass, although, in hindsight, as a parent I totally get how much fun he probably had watching us pee our pants in fear.

When we finally figured out Eva was awake, I told Ferris to sneak down the hall and rip open the door. My intentions were made perfectly clear. I wanted petrification, screaming, and maybe even a few tears if it came right down to it. Ferris did as told with me waiting in the wings. He swung open the door and pelted Eva with, "IT'S TIME TO GO TO BED!" Then there were squeals, lots of frantic toddler footsteps, and a very unexpected sound. Ferris was laughing.

When Ferris opened the door, he found that Eva had turned on the lamp next to her bed. She was wearing a snow hat, slippers over her footie PJs, and was emptying the contents of her drawers...putting some stuff on and tossing the rest. When he realized he had, in fact, scared her to death, he continued to play up the stern dad role by marching over to her bed and demanding that she take off her costume and get to sleep. What happened next and what he wasn't prepared for seemed to be what caused the subsequent giggles.

In the moments following Ferris' initial bust into her room, Eva dropped a deuce in her drawers. Our mission was a success beyond anything even I could have imagined. Ferris, literally, scared the shit right out of her. Fear not, dear readers with a conscience and compassion for your sweet children, because when Eva saw Ferris laughing, she started giggling and the whole thing turned out well in the end. She survived our game and will, no doubt, live to torture the little peanuts keeping her awake at night.

On a mission

2009-09-21T21:02:00.000-05:00

You make me happy when skies are gray

2009-09-20T20:37:00.007-05:00

My dear love, Eva.

I've written quite enough about the various things occupying my mind for the past several weeks. I don't need to bore you with the mundane details of pregnancy, nut-ball work, photography, blah blah blah. I don't need to bore you because you've lived it right along with me.

Starting today, I'm going to indulge myself for an entire week of focusing on you. We'll talk about places we've visited. Perhaps I'll write a Mamaletter. We'll discuss the new design surprise in your bedroom. We might even make a video or two. Pretty much, it will be the greatest week your Grandma the Prude has ever had, trading in my endless liberal ranting for a week of nothing but her sweetest Mainer grandchild. Knowing me, though, I'll find a way to squeeze something in.

The following series of pictures were taken by your Auntie Bimbo during our most recent trip to Idaho. I think the explosion of cuteness pretty much speaks for itself.

Brandi Carlile, Dreams

2009-09-17T19:38:00.002-05:00

She has such a powerful Patti Griffin quality but still has a style of her own. This song makes me want to twirl around in circles, arms spread wide open.

Dreams - Brandi Carlile

Welcome home, my love

2009-09-15T16:12:00.005-05:00

A little over a month ago, I sold my Nikon D50 to someone I knew would give it a good home. I put off the inevitable for weeks because of scheduling, but I'm sure I just wasn't ready to let it go. That machine and I have been through a great deal together. It changed the trajectory of my life...no joke. The day finally arrived, and with a seriously heavy heart we parted ways...totally surprised by how difficult it was to let go.

Although I totally got over it.

A few days ago, I dropped a pretty penny on my new mistress. I was shaking, literally, when I made the purchase and during the subsequent ride home. Then, my new Nikon D90 sat in its box for three more days before I had the guts to bust into it. When I finally did...whoa, mama...it was orgasmic. I could have convinced myself to splurge on an even better model, but it's really difficult to beat this camera. The lens by itself is enough.

So I popped in the memory card and prepared to take the first shot.

A few minutes later, I handed Eva over to Ferris and informed him that I was going out for a shoot and not to expect me home for the next 4 years. Lucky for me, it just finished raining and the early evening sun was peeking through a layer of clouds. The best light you could possibly imagine.

With all the bullshit surrounding the official announcement to close the clinic where I work and subsequently losing my job, this new camera is posing a serious threat to my career as a social worker. I also have a solo exhibit in November (11/6 opening) which I'll write more about in the coming weeks. In sum, I think it's just about time to make the jump...both feet.

25 weeks

2009-09-14T10:10:00.003-05:00

25 weeks, 12 lbs, and 1 rash which has developed because my rotund thighs rub together. I'm not kidding you, I could start a fire with the amount of friction my expanding thighs create. Disgusting? Yes. Too much information? Undoubtedly. Something no one tells you before you decide to get pregnant? For sure. This happened before, and those of you with the slim legs can sit on it and spin.

For those of you who want to tell me to sit on it and spin because I've only gained 12 pounds, let me put your minds at ease. At this time during my last pregnancy, I had only gained 7 pounds. That's how it works for me in the beginning. HOWEVER, my total weight gain was 45 pounds. That's right, you do the math. I have roughly 15 weeks to go, during which I'm totally prepared to expand like a curvy rubber band. I'm the exploding blueberry girl, Violet Beauregarde, on crack...just you wait and see.

I decided to mix it up a bit and took this week's shot in my downstairs bathroom which, as you can see, is preparing for a new paint job. Fear not, dear readers, we decided against the slime-green swatch in the left side of the frame, but rest assured the color we picked is equally as offensive.

Dreaming of Squirrel Island

2009-09-11T10:13:00.002-05:00

Squirrel Island is one of the magical places that makes living in Maine absolutely irresistible for us. Our dear friends have been going there for more years than you can count on all fingers and toes. Our last trip was several years ago as Ferris and I were well into our desperate attempt to get pregnant with Eva. It was an overcast, lazy weekend which all the pictures reflect. We drank a lot of coffee, stayed up late, slept in, and read books for hours wrapped up in the hammock overlooking the ocean. It was one of our last luscious, childless vacations.

This trip was different, and I can't help but notice how the pictures reflect that change. The weather was bright, 'energetic' children abound, and me feeling more pregnant than I would have liked. I had trouble playing outside in the sun for extended periods of time, drinking gallons of water but never feeling hydrated. Eva had a fever for the first two days and had lots of trouble sleeping. The magic of Squirrel was still ever-present. Spending days with our buddies was a treat beyond words, but our ability to wallow in all of it just wasn't going to happen in the same way. In a billion different ways, Eva and the little peanut swimming in my belly have changed our lives forever.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

"We came here to build a future."

2009-09-10T09:01:00.006-05:00

I got a bunch of emails last night asking my opinion on Obama's health care speech. For those of you who could give a rat's ass about my opinion (which is more than appropriate), I'll be posting a bunch of pictures later today from our summer vacation to Squirrel Island. Tune in. For those of you with questionable judgment who care what I have to say, here goes.

Official white house transcript of the speech

I watched the speech with pen and paper to take notes. I know, I know...what a turbo nerd, but you all know how important this stuff is to me. Below is a link to a 6 part video of the speech on YouTube. I totally understand if you don't have the 60 minutes to watch the whole thing, so I've listed some highlights of the real meat of the speech. It's like political crib notes. Note that it doesn't get serious until Part 2.

YouTube video of the speech
Part 2: 3:00- Obama outlines the plan
Part 2: 5:45- Introduction of Insurance Exchange to create competition in the market
Part 3: 1:02- Dispelling rumors
Part 3: 5:22- Introduction of the Public Option, individual mandate to carry insurance
Part 3: 7:00- Obama kicks both side's asses for being ideological and partisan
Part 4: 1:20- Seniors and medicaid
Part 4: 5:50- Tort reform

Last but not least, my Op Ed in no particular order.

1. I don't think we should harsh on Joe Wilson's (R) outburst. He yelled "You lie!" during the speech and is catching some pretty serious heat from both sides for being disrespectful. I'm not a big fan of decorum or ritual and we all know I'm a huge fan of dissension, so Wilson's dissent doesn't bother me none. It's best that we move on to more pressing issues.

2. There's no getting around it, so I might as well just say it. You're out of your friggin' mind if you don't support this plan. That goes for super lefties who won't support anything but a single payer system (universal health care) and super righties who are needlessly afraid of socialism. This plan is wise, moderate, and totally necessary. Unless you can come up with a better, more comprehensive plan...get the hell out of the way.

3. Obama made it very clear that he's sick and tired of the bullshit from both sides as well as the fear-mongering media. He has committed to fixing what works instead of creating a new system from scratch. It is uniquely American to have freedom of choice and to support competition in the market. Even though I'm a supporter of the single payer option, I have the sense to know that this plan is better for everyone. I'm willing to put my ideology aside in order to support what will work for the most people.

4. I love that Obama put the beat down on people seeking political gain by trying to kill the bill instead of trying to improve upon it (Part 4, 8:10). He demands that if you aren't happy with his plan, he welcomes you to come to him with a 'serious set of proposals' and will no longer tolerate wasting his time with groundless, unsubstantiated obstruction.

5. Obama appeased some of my concerns:

a. I worry about small businesses who can't afford to provide health care
coverage for their employees. He says that 95% of small businesses will not have
the profit margins to be mandated to cover their employees (Part 3 around 6
min). He says the mandate will only happen to medium-large businesses.
b. He is firm that this plan will not happen without a public option. I mean, come on!
There is no better, more comprehensive, or more moderate plan than holding
private insurance companies accountable while introducing a public option. The
public option will serve as a catalyst for competition with the private companies which will lower premiums and make them provide better care. ALL THE WHILE PROVIDING HEALTH CARE COVERAGE FOR EVERYONE. If you like your insurance, friggin' keep it! If you don't or if you can't afford it, you will finally have an alternative. EVERYONE WINS.

Capturing angels

2009-09-08T18:06:00.004-05:00

I've planned several posts in my head, all of which I lack the energy to produce. I need to write Eva's 28 month mamaletter and I need to post the most recent picture of my ever-expanding belly. All of these 'shoulds' have been rolling around in my brain throughout the day, making me feel all the more exhausted.

And then I remembered that this is my blog...where content and deadlines are produced from within...one of the very few places left in my life without exterior forces at play. Plus, you guys could give two shits if I'm a few days late with my mamaletter. Am I right? Amazing how needing to be an overachiever can put a serious hit on productivity. It's the ultimate oxymoron.

So I decided to edit some work I did for the beloved My Mother the Prude. She commissioned me to take pictures of her four granddaughters which I gladly did a few weeks ago while in Pocasmello. Instead of continuing with our regularly scheduled programming, I've decided to post a few of the pictures where we used some props from My Mother the Prude's garden to keep everyone focused. Amazing how a little apricot can capture the imagination of a 22 month old for all of 14 seconds.

What the hell is a Beering?

2009-09-03T22:29:00.003-05:00

I took this shot at one of our favorite local cafes, One Fifty Ate, in South Portland. They have a wicked good breakfast sandwich which I always order with egg, cheddar, and bacon on a homemade bagel. They use the really thick bacon, too. Bacon is gooooooood. If you're not into bacon or savory breakfast for that matter, I totally recommend the locally made yogurt and freshly cut fruit. Not interesting enough? Just wait until they drizzle the dish with the most delicious honey you've ever tasted. Can you tell I've hit the orgasmic food portion of this pregnancy?

On the way out to the back patio, I came across this peculiar sign. Anybody know what it means? When I googled 'Beerings", the only decent hit comes from Etsy...beer cap earrings, get it?

Aaaaaaand, we're back

2009-09-02T22:49:00.000-05:00

Hey, kids. We've been home for a few days, but it always takes me a while to recover before I can fully get back into the swing of things. Not sure if that has more to do with spending 10 days in Idaho or traveling with a toddler who refuses to sit still for longer than 37 seconds. Probably both. And before I forget, my grandma wants to inform you that she frequents my blog and has asked that I give her a public shout out.

What up, Grams!

I spent the entirety of yesterday with Eva doing nothing but reacclimating ourselves to East Coast time. Homegirl is having more trouble returning from this trip than any we've taken thus far. It's a battle of wills every night before bed when she uses every tool she can utilize to delay the process...including epic, destructive tantrums. Last night was easier than the last, so I'm crossing my fingers for a smooth rest of the week. I totally just jinxed myself.

This morning, I was hanging with my other baby. Have you ever seen a cuter profile in your life? No? I thought as much.

I had my fourth and (hopefully) final ultrasound this morning. The second of my stubborn children has refused to allow the technician to document good pictures of the heart. Fourth ultrasound...FOURTH. During the previous three when the baby refused to give up the goods, the nice ladies would make me run/walk/skip/hop up and down the hallways to get the baby to move. And did the baby move? Hell to-the no. That baby would not budge.

Luckily, the stars were aligned this morning, and the baby was head down/belly up...perfect position to see the healthy little heart with four chambers, solid septums, and beautiful blood flow. This baby is the valedictorian of heartbeats. This baby is also the valedictorian of flashing its privates. Ferris and I made the decision not to find out the gender, something we felt very strongly about during Eva's pregnancy. I'll write more about that decision later. At this point, I would just like to document my conviction in not finding out the sex of the baby during FOUR ultrasounds. Have you any idea how hard that is? I'm the kid who secretly opened and re-wrapped her Christmas presents as soon as they appeared under the tree. If a birthday present arrives early in the mail, Ferris has to hide it under lock and key otherwise I would tear it apart in one millisecond.

I turned my head through FOUR ultrasounds. There should be some kind of medal of honor for that.

Except that I did sneak one little peak this morning when the nice lady brushed by the baby's privates. Ferris knew it would happen. It was inevitable. The good news is that I have absolutely no idea what I was looking at. There you have it, folks. I'm an uneducated cheater who couldn't cheat even though she wanted to.

Although I have a guess...

The incontinence of growing pains

2009-08-26T10:14:00.003-05:00

Hey, folks. Greetings from Pocasmello, land of the free and home of the brave. The heartland, if you will. Saturday morning, we boarded a plane in Boston and flew our cute little tushes westward. Truthfully, we've only been in Pocasmello for a very short time.

Most of our time has been spent in Salt Lake City with Ferris' family, and then Ferris and I stole away for a decadent 36 hours in Sun Valley. Note in the iPhone pic below, I'm desperately trying to snap a lovers moment while Ferris is glued to the Monday night pre-season football game...per the usual.

Yesterday morning, we found ourselves lazily wondering through our favorite local bookstore, Iconoclast, when I ran smack into this...

No kidding, I almost wet my pants in a completely pregnancy-unrelated way. An aside: Whenever Ferris and I see something on TV featuring the family with 18 biological children, the first and only thing Ferris says is, "There's not one chance that poor woman can hold her pee." Listen, I'm on number two and have already felt some of those effects. SOME, I said. I can't even imagine.

Anyhooters, with the strong prospect of losing my job in two months, I've been searching inward and looking back on the New Year's Intentions I made earlier this year...specifically Part Three. There's so much up in the air...so many unknowns that may not resolve themselves for some time. Until they do, I'm holding onto my belly and trying my best to see this uncertainty as an opportunity to grow. Grow in which direction? Only time will tell.

From here, to Cape Town, and back again

2009-08-21T09:58:00.007-05:00

I few nights ago, Ferris, our buddy, and I were enjoying a lovely sidewalk dinner at Ribolita's when the topic of health care reform entered the conversation. Serious Debby Downer. I listened to everyone give their take on things and realized I had already made my take very clear and very well documented. What I had neglected to do, however, is explain why I feel the way I do. Context always sheds light.

Ferris asked us why Americans find ourselves in such a crushing depression (economically and emotionally). We've been in rough spots before, but most people will admit that this recession 'feels' much more crushing than previous tough times. It's a very complicated question with all kinds of potential answers, but I would argue that the truth of the matter (from my point of view, obviously) is very simple.

Before I jump up on my soap box, I should state that I come to this conclusion based on my work as a health care social worker. Social work, in my practice, has absolutely nothing to do with psycho-analysis or bleeding heart liberalism. I don't feel like I owe anyone anything because I am privileged and others are not. I believe strongly in the healing art of relationships. I believe in empowerment through trust and commitment. I come to the table with everything I have and expect my patients to do the same.

From that perspective, I would argue that most of the problems we face as a nation come from the theory of seeing ourselves as individuals instead of seeing ourselves as part of a collective. Let me explain.

Four years ago, I spent some time in South Africa. I did plenty of playing, but the reason for my visit was to learn from South African social workers and HIV counselors. I visited sprawling townships on the outskirts of Cape Town where people, literally, had nothing. I spent an afternoon at a make-shift women's health clinic which was funded by The Gate's Foundation. It was held in two broken, sweltering, train cars near the local community health center. Women were there to get exams and HIV testing, some for the first time. There wasn't much to do with the counselors, so I jumped in the waiting room trailer to hang with some of the ladies. There were 11 women aged 18-40, some with babies strapped to their backs waiting the entire day to be seen. These women had nothing, and I can't stress that enough. Their husbands were often absent, they endured a scarcity of food and clean water, and many had several other mouths to feed. It was as dire a situation as I have ever seen.

One would think these women would be crushed by their lot, but there was an energy in the room that superseded their troubles. After talking with them for a bit, I learned that these women considered themselves to be part of a collective, they were in it together, they had a strong sense of community...they were sisters. Instead of seeing themselves as needing to carry the burden on one set of shoulders, they understood that there was an entire community of women prepared to help shoulder that burden. When you understand...I mean, truly understand that you're not alone, their are no troubles too great to survive.

I left that broken trailer unable to speak. There I was, a healthy, privileged, American girl realizing that I was the one with nothing. These women, these beautifully lucky women, had everything.

This is the foundation from which I approach health care in our country. I believe, strongly, that we are all connected. If one of us is sick and vulnerable, all of us are sick and vulnerable. We are only as strong as our weakest partner. I am a proponent of a single payer system, but I also avidly support a public option to compete with private insurances. I have no desire to strip anyone of their individual liberties, but I also believe that one can only enjoy their liberties if everyone is allowed the same right. When you are born into a situation where you have nothing and you feel as though you are neglected and overlooked by the elite, there are no individual liberties to be found there. You are alone, which is the worst feeling in the world.

We need change, we need progress, we need to understand that we are all in this together.

We need to shoulder this burden as a collective.

p.s. The majority of this post was sent to my Senators, Olympia Snowe and Susan Collins. Crossing fingers.

Giving a new meaning to the word 'juiced'

2009-08-19T13:59:00.005-05:00

The Times just published an article about drug abuse with elderly athletes. You've got to be kidding me.

“Who’s 75 years old and not taking medications?” asked Gary Snyder, national chairman of U.S.A. Track & Field’s masters committee, which will oversee more than 100 competitions this year for athletes over age 30. Most drugs like Mr. Levine’s [metformin HCl and glipizide for his diabetes; lisinopril for his blood pressure; and Viagra for his....ah...special condition] are not banned for competitors, but some common treatments for asthma, menopause and inflammation contain steroids that can disqualify athletes if they do not get written medical exemptions. “I’m sure there are folks taking something like Manny,” Mr. Snyder said, referring to Manny Ramirez, the baseball player for the Los Angeles Dodgers who this year was suspended 50 games for violating the sport’s drug policy. “But most are using drugs for medical reasons.”

There's nothing in spell check to indicate the correct spelling of 'hanky panky'

2009-08-18T08:54:00.005-05:00

Summer has finally hit Portland in full force. We've had decent weather, but nothing compared to the smoldering heat we're smack in the middle of right now. It's hot as balls. I had no idea how well I timed my last pregnancy having never been pregnant a single day during hot weather (Sept-May). This time, I'm finding it very difficult not to melt like the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz when she gets dumped over the head with a bucket of water. Except the exact opposite is true of me. I melt in the heat until Ferris arrives on a white steed with a bucket of ice cold water in one hand and a pint of Ben and Jerry's in the other. Last night just as he walked in the front door from work, I informed him that there would be no further hanky panky until he installed the air conditioner. Four seconds later, Ferris informed me that installation of the AC had commenced and that I was fully allowed to drape myself in front of it whenever necessary. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

Oh, the power of modern air cooling technology and the age old technique of withholding sexual favors. Everybody wins.

One of the many reasons I've fallen in love with Portland is the culture. It's a relatively small city, 64,000, with a ridiculous number of galleries and restaurants for the size. People are out and about, walking the streets, gathering, making noise. I'm totally into it. Last week, our little clan went to the last Live @ Five concert series at Monument Square. Not a bad way to beat the heat.

20 weeks, half way home

2009-08-13T20:58:00.005-05:00

20 down, 20 to go! I don't know where to start in telling you how much better I finally feel. I get the normal pregnancy tiredness, but I no longer feel like I'm dying. I'm feeling so good, in fact, I thought I would write a little bit about the good things...the things I love about the changes in my body when I'm pregnant.

I love my pregnant skin. It's normal for most women's skin to get darker. I'm not sure if the melanin gets more sensitive or if it starts to overproduce...perhaps someone out there knows more than I do about this. Either way, I love the color of my skin, the way in glows, how I seem to brown thrice as fast when the sun hits me. It makes me feel gorgeous.

I love the tightening of my belly as the baby gets bigger. I tend to start showing later than most people, perhaps because of my height, so when my belly finally pops out it feels like a welcomed surprise. Hello, baby, there you are. I also love that as my belly gets bigger, I accidentally run into people with it. Whoops! You'll have to excuse the bowling ball in my abdomen...sometimes I forget.

I love the way Ferris looks at me each week I get bigger and bigger. The first half of a pregnancy sucks for him too, partially because the only thing marking the difference is my foul mood and the evil eyes I shoot at him when he farts. Dude, seriously? All of that has passed (no pun intended). Now he looks at my body in raptured awe...the curves, it's purpose, my enormous boobs. Who could blame him, really?

To celebrate my good mood, I've been enjoying the music of Sylvie Lewis. Her music makes me happy.

Pushing for health care reform

2009-08-12T18:01:00.006-05:00

First and foremost, I want to go on the record as being totally and completely pro dissension in politics. I'm dead serious about this. Dissension is the highest form of patriotism, and I support anyone and everyone who stands up and voices their disapproval of the political machine. Public service is just that, service, and we have every right to demand that elected officials act on our behalf. You will never, ever, hear me speak ill of the people who've been speaking out against Obama and others at the town hall meetings. Never.

That said, I think it's very important to dissent after doing your research. And when I refer to research, that doesn't include Fox news, CNN, O'Reily, Olbermann, Limbaugh, or Maddow. AND ESPECIALLY NOT PALIN. It's impossible to avoid getting pounded by these idiots, but I think it's wise to limit the consumption. I like to read newspapers (online) and rely heavily on NPR which seems to be the most level-headed place for news. On my way home from work this afternoon, NPR had a piece on the latest town hall meetings in West Virginia whose senator is currently having the most success. Dude is not even confirmed as to how he will vote. He's just addressing his constituents with respect and demanding the same.

It's likely that most of us have already made up our minds when it comes to health care reform. I'm in no way looking to change minds although It would be nice if that happened. I'm just looking to further the discussion. I had a brief conversation with My Mother the Prude this afternoon when she made a few comments about how lucky I am that this terrible economy hasn't touched the health care industry. She's a kick ass business woman in a very conservative area of the country. Unfortunately, her assessment was totally incorrect.

The family practice clinic where I work will be closing its doors at the end of October, and it's very likely that I will lose my job. It's a massive clinic, the only game in the area that serves people with Medicare/Medicaid. I can't even think about the number of people without insurance or with state/federal insurance that will no longer have access to health care. This is the real deal, folks. This is no joke. This shit is actually happening. Not only will there no longer be a place for these folks to get care besides expensive ER visits, the clinic is leaving a whole slew of employees without paychecks and benefits. These professionals will no longer be able to afford health care. It's like a stack of ill-fated dominoes.

My Mother the Prude made a good point in asserting that the privatization and for-profit nature of our current system is not working for a number of reasons. The only solution to that problem is creating a central, non-profit, system that makes sure that everyone receives care. It's as simple as that. This is the way we need to go. This is the only way the system will heal itself, and Sarah Palin and other ill-informed commentators are using misinformation to scare people into thinking otherwise. It's not a perfect plan and will be difficult as hell to implement, but there's no more time to waste wallowing in fear. I invite anyone to put forth a comprehensive (not just bandaids) plan that will work better.

Truthfully, I'm a little pissed at the Obama administration as well. I'm pissed because they're not pushing hard enough. I'm pissed because this is, truly, a life or death issue for millions of Americans, and it's his job to make it happen. To Mr. Obama: Sir, it's time to put your big boy pants on and kick some ass.

On a lighter note, Ferris and I are currently glued to ESPN watching my boyfriend, Jeff Samardzija, play his first game as the Cubs starting pitcher. BTWs, I still get 5+ hits from Google every day from people searching 'Jeff Samardzija's Girlfriend'. So hot.

A little bit of homework

2009-08-11T17:12:00.002-05:00

Obama visited a town just 45 minutes from here today. This shit is starting to get steamy...pun totally intended. Some light reading for tomorrow's discussion. I'm sure I'm going to say all kinds of crazy radical nonsense for y'all to devour.

Learning to snow plow

2009-08-10T16:00:00.004-05:00

We could take an inventory of the attributes (both physical and behavioral) Eva got from her mom and dad. I have the weirdest sideways pinkie toe my friends from home can and probably will attest to. I was teased mercilessly, rightly so. I got it from my mom, but somehow Eva managed to escape it. She did, however, get my mile-long narrow ski feet, poor girl.

"Mama, Choc-oh-lit chips are tasty"

2009-08-07T08:24:00.005-05:00

I had a whole product post written and ready to post, but today I feel like I need to write about something else. As soon as Eva and I got home from our respective work/school day, she wanted nothing to do with Elmo and everything to do with ice cream. We finally figured out she's in the process of cutting her molars and ice cream has become her medicine of choice. I would have preferred whiskey, but, you know, that's just me. We walked to the neighborhood scoop shop where I introduced her to my personal favorite, mint chocolate chip. As you can see from today's title, she was totally into it.

Once we got home and cuddled on the couch, Eva leaned back to rest her head on my belly. A few minutes later the baby started kicking wildly, hard enough for Eva to feel 'something' which she lovingly referred to as a 'belly toot'. We tried to talk about the baby inside my belly, but there was no getting around the fact that Mama just made a 'belly toot', which also happened to be the funniest thing she had ever encountered.

A belly toot.

I wrote about my first experience with the quickening, which was very different from what I experienced this time around. This time, I woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee and soaked with sweat. Just before I got up, I felt a violent minuscule jab to my bladder. I could tell it came from an arm or leg the size of a q-tip, nothing like the sweet flutter I felt with Eva. Hmmmm, curious.

I've been feeling the baby move for about a month, sometimes little flutters and sometimes violent jabs, but the baby has always been too small for Ferris to feel. He's been working in the hospital this week which means long and painfully hard work. It's better than when he was a resident but worse than what he now does in his clinic. He came home from work yesterday as sour as I've seen him in a long time. After putting Eva to bed, he went directly upstairs to pack for our trip this weekend. All kinds of huffing and sulking and not even coming close to looking me in the eye. So I plopped my rounded body on the bed and demanded a few minutes of his overly busy and stressful day. He resisted, but I, ladies and gentlemen, am irresistible.

I made him lay quietly next to me with his hand on my belly. Several minutes and several belly toots later, he wasn't able to feel anything and started to get restless. I begged for a few more minutes...not too much to ask after the little time we've spent together this week. He closed his eyes, took a deep calming breath, and placed his hand over my belly. A heartbeat later, we both felt it. The biggest belly toot so far, big enough for him to feel and big enough to melt his heart. Ferris isn't one for grand gestures of overly verbal diatribes. He is simple and quiet and every movement he makes is meaningful. He felt this baby for the first time, continued to keep his eyes closed, and then smiled a soft peaceful grin. It was palpable, the stress of the day as it immediately left his body. There's nothing in the world like feeling the growth of human life to put things into perspective.

Halo Lace

2009-08-06T11:04:00.004-05:00

See, even the name of the right bra is angelic.

At 4pm yesterday afternoon just as I was about to leave the office to get Eva from Little School, I got a call from Ferris. By some miracle, he was able to leave work early and was already on his way to pick her up. Halle-FRIGGIN-lujah! So I decided to maximize my good fortune with some oh-so-very necessary bra shopping. One hour later, I left with what I hope will be the best thing that ever happened to me.

Wacoal, so they say, is the best. These bras are built by people who take boobs very seriously and specialize in accommodating the 'full-figured' lady. I can't believe I've become a full-figured lady, but so goes life. Instead of denying what God gave me, I've decided to meet these cans head on. I got this particular bra in black, it has four clasps in the back, and super soft shoulder straps. More than anything else, however, I bought it because it covers and supports completely without giving me mom-boobs. There's no spilling over the top, and it lifts and perks them up so I can fool myself into believing there's no such thing as Cooper's Droop. In sum, it's a comfortable, pretty bra that makes me feel good.

It's been a super long time since I've done a product post (the funnest stuff to write about), so tomorrow you can look forward to reading all kinds of reviews on some of my favorite stuff.

Deering Park ducks

2009-08-04T08:04:00.002-05:00

These homies are fierce when it comes to ensuring their survival. Most of the ladies had recently hatched a family of ducklings which made Eva's day. There's nothing cuter than baby ducklings. If you look closely, you can see that three of the four surging ducks are the brightly colored males with the fourth being a haggard postpartum lady duck. I'm almost positive the lady duck got the bread. I'm telling you, don't mess with a starving, hormonal mama with 5 mouths to feed. You're bound to lose a limb...or a beak.

My boobs, a complete history

2009-08-03T11:43:00.007-05:00

The following post is proof that I have absolutely no plans to run for public office. I don't think you're allowed to write in painful detail about your pregnant boobs on the internet if you hope to one day be taken seriously as a candidate for Governor. I can already see my interview as a contender for Eva's School Board when a stuffy old shirt asks me about the time I wrote publicly about the size and gravity of my nursing tits.

I'm 19 weeks today, and, frankly, both of my pregnancies have been more about my boobs than my belly...at least for the first half. Actually, I think I'm getting ahead of myself. Perhaps a walk down memory lane will put things into greater perspective.

In junior high, the tender process of blossoming endowed me with a substantially uncomfortable size 34C chest. Yep, I was that girl with the tits when everyone else was barely pubescent. I got sick skinny in high school and shrunk to a size 32A and then, in college, a size 32B. Whatever happened after college, I blame fully and completely on Ferris. Since we've been together, I've gone from that little B to a whopping 32DD and a 34F when I was nursing. 34EEEEFFFFFFF, ladies and gentlemen! What could cause such a drastic change, you ask? I'm convinced Ferris made a deal with the devil.

Birth control, some weight gain, two pregnancies, and 15 months of nursing have all but destroyed my chest. It's known, affectionately, in the medical world as Coop's Droop wherein the tendon (Cooper's Tendon, the one that holds up the ladies) begins to stretch. Thus, the droop. It often happens to women with larger breasts, but it really hits the women whose breasts have grown and shrunk several times...like mine.

Having big boobs in and of itself is not all bad, but there are often some very uncomfortable side effects. Unfortunately, I've experienced most of those side effects because of Coop's Droop. I've had terrible back pain since my early 20's which has only gotten worse with the growing boobs. Once Eva arrived, I developed debilitating back spasms that made it impossible to sleep or rest in a comfortable way. Carrying the baby, the constant bending when nursing, and the sheer weight of my jugs were brutally painful. Everyone said my boobs would shrink to their smallest after I was done nursing, but it has been quite the opposite for me. Worst of all, however, are the divots that have developed on my shoulders where the bra straps have created permanent grooves from the burden of holding up these boulders.

To say the very least, I'm always in some form of discomfort, if not from the back pain then from the discomfort of wearing superhero brassieres. It's something that never goes away or ever gets better. Just this morning, I woke up from the sweetest dream I've had in a very long time. I dreamt I was on Oprah's special bra episode and one of those magical bra ladies measured and fitted me into the perfect bra for my body. The Heavens opened up and a choir of angels was singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

One of the reasons I'm writing about this is to learn from my big busted lady readers who might have a suggestion or two about how to deal with this. Recommendations for good bras? Massage? Tips for reduction surgery? I'm all ears and boobs, ladies.

Ferris bought an actual record player

2009-07-29T16:27:00.005-05:00

Who would have guessed the music I'd be into this pregnancy would be classic folk rock? I'm not even kidding...I wish I were. It's so weird to have this kind of emotional connection to Neil Young, but it's totally happening. In an effort to update my groove, I've found a new group with the same kind of vibe. A friend at work turned me on to these guys several months ago, but it never really sunk in until recently. A new one for the record collection.

Mykonos (Album) - Fleet Foxes

One reason among many

2009-07-28T13:58:00.004-05:00

I'm writing a ton about Ferris these days. It must be a mushy symptom of getting knocked up...like some bizarre hormone is being produced in my body that makes me extra googly for the knocker upper. In this case, that happens to be Ferris, but we're still waiting on the paternity tests for Eva to see who I should have been googly for back then.

As if she's not the spitting image of her father.

Those two are super tight these days in a way that mirrors what Eva and I had in the very beginning. Ferris is giving her something that can only come from him no matter how hard I try to replicate it. It's playful and silly and lively. Ferris is patient and takes his sweet time talking to Eva about everything. He is happy to spend every moment they have together discussing the wonder of absolutely everything, including the times when Eva starts on the "but why?" record player...over and over and over again with the questions. Around the third time explaining why she needs to wear a diaper if she continues to refuse to use the potty, I'm ready to pack my bags and call it quits, but Ferris will answer her endless questions until she is satisfied. And he actually seems to like it. Nuts, both of them.

A few nights ago, Ferris was hanging the final row of slats on the fence when Eva, Jackson and I decided to be as annoying as possible. We built a fort under a tree about three feet away from his work area and proceeded to sing every verse of 'The Wheels On The Bus', including several we made up on the spot. Every parent knows how much fun this song can be until you get to the 10th verse, at which point you would rather lick an earwax Popsicle than endure another moment of the change going clink clink clink. What did Ferris do? He wasn't phased. And when Eva walked over and grabbed one of the awkward wooden slats that eventually swung around to the side and nailed Ferris in the back of the legs, he giggled and said, "Good helping, Eva. You're so strong."

There. Right there. That is why I wanted to make babies with that man.

It would have been understandable for Ferris to have been totally batshit annoyed at us, especially at Eva who was disrupting his hard work, but he wasn't. It didn't even occur to him. He had an innate understanding that Eva was trying to help and that to shame her would have been devastating for her. Actually, I'm not even sure he thought that much about it which is all the more reason to adore that man. It's just his instinct. He gets her.

And because he gets her, I'm totally getting him.