a change of heart for the new year

When I first started this blog, it was a way to document my pregnancy with Maura and keep people in my life who didn't see us often up-to-date with what was happening. When she was born, I wanted to keep it up and open so that people could enjoy her and the wonderful lady she was becoming. It instead turned into a great vehicle for me to talk about my post-partum issues without fear of judgement or criticism, since I was basically writing into some vapid space. I got to write again, about things I cared about. But now, pregnant again, I'm having a change of heart.

I'm just not cut out for as much openness anymore. This time around, I'm more protective, more attuned to the need to have things of my own that only I think and feel and experience. I've always been an open person, because honestly, there's nothing new under the sun, and I've always felt like hearing the reality of other people's lives has helped me with my own. I am learning to take comfort in the fact that the people that I love know I love them, and that if anything were newsworthy in some way, I would tell them personally. And I've decided that much of my life, apart from the amazing goodness of things that happen with Maura and will happen with our next child, is not going to be shared in the same way. I see now the beauty of keeping between you and your spouse and the four walls you live in the things that are deepest in you.

Through silence and through comments, I've gotten a lot of support on here, and I appreciate that so much. It's been nice for me to imagine who might be on the other end of this, reading about me and us and putting us in their good thoughts, even if just for a moment. As I've said so many times, I'm such a lucky girl that I have this life.

I'm going to keep updating the blog weekly as I have (or as I've tried to) as a place to check-in about Maura and our son (yes! it's a boy!) and keep our family and friends up-to-date. I don't know why I feel the need to say anything more about why I won't be writing quite as personally, but I guess because I have gotten lots of great support I feel like it's the most gracious thing to do.

So, to you three readers, merry christmas and happy new year. See you on the flip side.

a very long week and a half

It started last Tuesday, with an appointment at an orthopedist for Maura. I was almost sick with worry before the appointment. It's a very long story, but the bottom line is that she has been having some challenges standing and walking and we sought out early intervention services at the advice of our pediatrician. EI evaluated her, quickly determined (a little to quickly for our taste) that she was 7 months delayed in her gross motor skills, and sent us panicked off to a brace clinic to meet with a PT about orthotics for her feet. The brace clinic recommended the orthotics, but they weren't like little cookies for your shoes like I thought they would be. They were like full-on braces that came up her above her ankle from her toes, white hard plastic things like a walking cast that they wanted her to wear for 9 months every moment she was awake. To the tune of $1500 (which thankfully we found out insurance would cover). We walked out a little stunned and skeptical. Two days later at our pediatrician, we expressed the same and sent us to this pediatric orthopedist at MGH, some big wig. After we finally made it there Tuesday after 2 hours of traffic, Maura was a mess and didn't want to cooperate but they x-rayed her legs and pelvis and found there were no skeletal issues and recommended that we give it more time until we did anything to intervene, that at not even 16 months, she was far from his estimation of delayed and that EI was basically taking us for a ride.

We were relieved, and pissed. Although it was comforting to have a specialist determine that although he could see the issues with her feet and pronation we weren't going to do the braces, we had to lug all over creation because EI essentially wanted us to sign-up for services. So right now we're just taking it day by day and I feel confident that she'll walk when she's damn well good and ready.

Then Wednesday, we had an awful snow storm, and Jay's car had been having lots of problems, starting and not starting, getting jumped and working and then not just hours later. Anyway, I took the piece of shit to work because I wanted Jay to have the good car to take Maura to yet another doctor's appointment, but he ended up not going in the snow. Needless to say, I was pissed and stressed I wouldn't even make it home from work. After a tense night, I left for work Thursday morning as usual and got a call at 10 a.m.

"Baby, don't panic, but we've been in a car accident."

I almost died. I started to panic, of course, barely hearing what he was telling me. On top of everything else, my cell phone had not been working, so I got what I could about how he and Maura were doing and then left panicked even more that they wouldn't be able to reach me on my drive home.

The ride home is a bit of a blur, but I did reach Jay and he reassured me everyone was fine. Someone ran a red light and he hit her at about 30 miles an hour, trying hard to brake and avoid her. There were witnesses, the car seat did its job and kept Maura safe, and although Jay was so ready to get out and tear into the other driver, he did the best he could to take care of Maura and be sure she was ok and not scared getting checked out by the paramedics and cops. Luckily, the cop that showed up first was a girl Jay went to high school with, who then called for my brother-in-law's best freind and our friend, who is also a cop in town. By the time I reached the area, Jay's brother had picked them up at the scene and brought them home.

It's hard to even describe the mix of relief and terror I felt when I got home and saw them both and Maura looked up at me and said "Hi!" This time last year I was severely depressed, convinced that Jay and Maura were going to die, or that I was going to die. Back then I had plans for how I was going to try to avoid that, ways I was going to negotiate with whoever was going to kill us, get them to just kill me and spare Maura. As twisted as it was, I thought I was in control of those things then because I had a plan. This was totally something I could do nothing about. And I had to trust that Jay had done what he could to protect her and take care of her. It was a very difficult day for all of us.

In the end, everyone is just fine, and there is a silver lining. The car was totaled, and we got an insurance settlement that will allow us to pay off my car and put a down payment on another. It's not an ideal time for us to buy another car, but its the best case scenario out of a really terrifying situation. And we're buying the safest car we possibly can afford. I don't care but it's having no less than 9 airbags.

After a full weekend of feeling both terrified still and very, very grateful, this week is off to a better start, and we're back to gearing up for Christmas. We got a tree. And we find out soon whether we're having a boy or girl, which we'll learn next Wednesday. I'm such a mix of nervous and anxious and excited I'm having trouble sleeping. And I keep biting my nails. And eating brownies for breakfast. And I've gotten a big stress zit. Ahh, wonderful. No really, how could it not be, despite everything else, when I look at my lady bird and pause and realize how amazing it is that I got to be the lucky one to be her mom and am lucky enough to be doing it all again?

she's perfect

That's all.

so.tired.

This will be a short post. I should put it in bullets. This is about all I can manage today.

It's not odd to be tired and pregnant, I just get more and more surprised day after day how this pregnancy has so many more exaggerated symptoms. All day today, and many days so far, I feel like I'm so short of breath that my heart is trying to will it self to pump harder and harder all the way up in my throat. And then I get even more short of breath, because my chest and throat feel so full. And the headaches are killer, and I never get headaches. Not complaining, more observing. It's all so fascinating to me, how aware of your body you become while you grow another. In your enormous belly.
So many things running through my brain these days, probably contributing to my tiredness. Always the struggle to decide if the best use of our money is for me to take off a full maternity leave. We spend so much money on so much shit we don't need and don't need to be doing, all in the name of making everyone else happy or getting a quick moment of damn, I deserve a treat and now I've got it and I feel...like shit. Not better. And time to heal and bond and frankly, get a fucking break from the work I've been doing non-stop since I was 15, should be worth it. But we could use the money to pay off bills, get our fence, fix the pipe, take a vacation. Yet all I really want, at the end of the day, is time to spend with my husband and my babies. Get my body back. Get my hair highlighted and spend a day cuddled on the beach under an umbrella with my baby. Yet it seems like a lot of time to take unpaid and is it a good use of tax money and blah, blah, blah. I'll figure it out.

I'm starting to get anxious (in a good way) for Christmas. Plus, Love Actually is On Demand from now until Christmas and I can watch it whenever I want and cry my eyes out like I usually do when I watch it. Best.Holiday.Movie.Ever.

Maura was excited, too, for a half second, when I pulled out the lights to attempt some kind of artistic photo for our Christmas cards (my other recent obsession). Then, she was out. As am I. I don't care if it's 7:30. I'm going to bed.

13 weeks or so

Happy second tri and Happy Thanksgiving!

It's been 10 days of almost non-stop appointments, for both me and for Maura. Last week I met with a perinatologist who will be following me with monthly ultrasounds for the remainder of the pregnancy to try to head off any complications related to IUGR. I learned a lot from her; namely, that there's not much you can do to reverse the IUGR once it's detected. Bed rest is shown to work only anecdotaly, and there are no medications you can give to "grow" a baby. If it happens, you almost always deliver early, and that's about the best they can do. She was concerned that I may have an underlying blood clotting disorder that may have caused the IUGR; I was tested and just today found out I don't have one, which is good news. However, that still leaves us back to square one with knowing what caused Maura's IUGR, and that knowledge would be useful in preventing it again, but I'm confident I'm in good hands and that things will work out. Antoher huge bonus is that I'll get 3D ultrasounds from now on, which is totally spooky and cool. Here's one from last week: it's kind of hard to tell, but this is a head-on shot of the baby with its hands covering its face. Can you tell?


We found out I'm measuring 4 or so days ahead (pretty significant in the prenatal world), which hopefully means the baby is thriving. They didn't adjust my due date, but may later. We get to find out the gender on December 23 -- what a great Christmas present. We may have to run out a get a little something for him or her to have for this "first" Christmas. I had another appointment today with my regular OB, and things are still looking good. Shockingly down another 3 lbs. (for a grand total of 8 lbs. down since I found out I was pregnant). Jay says it's because I'm not drinking (really, like I drank 8 lbs. worth of alcohol in the average 9 weeks? I don't think so.) I'm trying to be happy about it, as this may help prolong the stage of total bloat and ugliness that is sure to come in the next few months.

Maybe I spoke too soon -- here's a dreadful picture of me from last weekend, at 13 weeks (or almost 14). Either way, I look like a tank. I just spent two long days painting trim. Hey, at least I showered for ya.
I really, truly am bigger than I was with Maura at 20 or so weeks. Oh, well, at least at this stage I look visibly pregnant and not just fat, which was the case with Maura for a while.

She had her pedi appointment today, and at 15 months is 19.5 lbs and 29 inches, which is about the 8th percentile for weight and the 12th or so for height. She wasn't her usual charming self today, probably because she's getting so many vaccines and shots these past few times she's been there she knows what evil plans those people have in store for her. She's having some developmental delays with her gross motor skills, which we've known about and been working on for a while and anticipated since birth given her IUGR, and our pediatrician was great today giving us good advice and referrals and easing our minds a bit. She's still perfect to us and we don't want anyone to treat her differently, so we're trying to maintain a low-profile about it all.

She's still our happy girl.

Who gets into everything.

And is starting to get a bit of an attitude.

I'm trying to work on getting her out and about a bit more, into a playgroup or at least attending a library group of taking swimming lessons or something. The other downside to our current arrangement (although there are many pluses) is that by the time you factor in her two naps and Jay getting ready for work and meals and walking the dog, there's not a whole lot of chunks of time available to go anywhere besides a quick trip to the grocery store. But that means her only stimulation for the day comes from Jay and then me in the evenings, which isn't good. She's great with other babies and she needs friends and time to socialize. It will help her developmentally. Jay's not what one would call a joiner, but it's getting to the point where it has to be done. As much as we want her all to ourselves, and as easy as it is to just stay home, she's got to get out and about. It's well past time.

I hope everyone has a safe and relaxing day tomorrow. I'll check-in again next week.

we've got some news!

We're having another baby! We found out in September that baby number two will be here on or around May 30, Jay's birthday. To those that see me in real life, this is not news, because at five weeks pregnant (honestly, 7 days after I peed on the damn stick) this is what my belly looked like:

No lie. 5 weeks pregnant. Not that I was super flat in the tummy area after Maura was born, but a high round belly? It's like my body got a zap of the hormones and said, "Come on, let's make a giant mansion for the seedling to live in!" Since then, it's only gotten bigger. Honestly, here was me yesterday, at exactly 12 weeks:
For comparison, this was me at 19 weeks with Maura:
Two things I notice here: 1). Damn, I'm huge. 2). The long hair thing isn't working for me.

It's the same in some ways as it was with Maura: I haven't gained any weight. Actually lost a couple of pounds. OK, that's just one way. Everything else is different. It's so much harder the second time around. I was so nauseous for weeks and just beyond exhausted. I'd forgotten how that felt, although it was so much worse this time around. With the second one, you just have no time to relax. Tired when I get home from work? Too bad! Want to sleep in? Too bad! And the anxiety? Just as bad as the first time around. I had to tell work at about 10 weeks because it was getting impossible to hide, and part of me thought, "This is too soon." But I had no choice, really. And everything so far has been fine -- we've had two ultrasounds where the peach looks perfect, and we have our NT scan on Wednesday to test for Down's and other chromosomal abnormalities and I'm excited to see it again and feel that sense of relief that always comes with watching the squirming T-Rex on the screen.

Last time Jay got to come to all my appointments with me, and he hasn't been able to come to even one yet. It's just too tough to make it work with Maura. I miss that sense of newness and anticipation that came with being pregnant with your first, but I feel so much more confident as a parent now that I think the second baby will benefit greatly. And now we know what to anticipate with this pregnancy, delivery and the aftermath. There's a reasonable chance (25 - 40%) that this baby will also have IUGR, as Maura did. They are watching me closely, and if they see signs, they will take immediate action instead of having it go undetected for as long as it did with Maura. I'm also desperately hoping to avoid the post-partum depression, which totally wrecked me for a long time, so we've decided that come hell or high water (given I'll only have about 4 weeks of leave saved up), I'm taking a full, normal 12 weeks off of work for maternity leave, which is basically the whole summer. Going back at 6 weeks with Maura was not a good idea, and I think is primarily what contributed to the depression. I don't want to put myself through that torture again, but more importantly, I don't want to put Jay, Maura and this little one through it.

Overall, I'm happy to finally be feeling better (off to paint some trim!) and that this time around, we have a house of our own, a room for the baby that we can paint any color we want, a job that is stable and supportive and a healthy baby girl and a great husband. I have no doubt there will be some stumbling blocks and drama along the way this time, just like there was last time, but I just feel really lucky that I have the chance to even go through this again. Even if I'll miss the best seasons for good beer and Bailey's.

halloweenie!

Things have been busily bustling along in the Smalley household. This is my busy season for work, so I've been heavily focused there, and Jay, Maura and Miss Etta have spent their days enjoying the fall weather and adjusting to Maura's ever-changing temperament and needs. She's almost always a happy, happy baby (honestly), and is still a great nighttime sleeper (12-13 hours). Naps are becoming iffy, food is becoming iffy, and depending on the day, she's content to play with her toys and watch cartoons and other days she wants to do nothing but pull all the books off the shelf and press all the buttons on the remote and cable box and climb all over the concrete hearth and stick her fingers in Etta's food bowl. Quite the little toddler...

Her sweetest new characteristic is that she's learned to hug. If you ask for one, she'll spread out her arms and put her head on your shoulder and squeeze. Then she peeks up at you for approval, knowing she's done something great, and does it again. She's also become obsessed with my hair. In just the past few days, she has gone from her usual squirmming out of my arms when I hold her to sticking her thumb in her mouth, laying her head on my shoulder and twirling my hair. No joke, she did this for a solid hour the other night. And I've been so tired lately, this is just bliss for me.

She's was adorable at Halloween. We dressed her up as a dragon although we knew we wouldn't be taking her out trick or treating. We have a ton of kids in the neighborhood so we new we'd see a lot of them, so we passed out candy for a while and then headed to an open house to show our little dragon off. It was big fun.

Just got back last night from MD for a quick trip for a friend's baby shower. It was Maura's third or fourth time on a plane but my first without Jay to help -- he stayed home. Bless the poor souls who sat next to us on the flights -- she did great all things considered, but was so squirmmy and fussy and just overall not happy to be confined to my lap for an hour at a stretch.

It's always tough to go back there because I never really get to spend as much time with everyone as I want, and there are so many more people I would love to see and catch up with. I always question who to call or email, who to let know I'm coming down. I don't want to offend anyone, but I also don't want to seem over-eager, as many of the people I'd like to see have all moved on in their own ways, as well. I try to find peace with the fact that memories are memories forever, sometimes whether you like it or not, and I'll always hold a place for so many people I may never see again, not for lack of want, but just because that's the way life goes. So much of my life was there, and although I feel so entrenched in my life in Boston, there is so much history in Maryland that I always get a little sad when I leave. It was hard to travel alone, but I feel like Maura and I had some good bonding time, just us girls. I love her so much. And I got to spend time with everyone in my immediate family, however short, which is always wonderful. I wish I had the time to spend a whole two weeks or so down there to fit everything in.

I'll leave you with a few pics from Halloween and the trip. The girl's waking up from her nap and I've got to run.

autumn is the season before the bareness of things

but it is my favorite time of year. There isn't a feeling I like much more than sitting on a sofa wrapped in an afghan. I even wrap one around my legs in the summertime, that's how comforting I find it. And it seems to work best in the fall, of all seasons.

I could use some comfort these days. With this favorite season has come some pretty unpleasant side effects (probably not related in the least to fall, but maybe to the earlier darkness, now that I think about it.) Over the past few weeks, I have become increasingly paranoid that something bad is going to happen to Maura and me. Not like, we're going to slip down the front stairs with our arms full of groceries. We're talking maimed and murdered type of things. I refuse to even type the fears that pop into my head. Lately it has been consuming so much of my brain space that it's really stressing me out. I think it's related to a few things; allow me to psychoanalyze myself.

First, I'm alone a lot. I'm new to my house, my neighborhood. And I repeat, I'm alone a lot. When Jay's here, I do not have these thoughts with nearly the frequency. But what am I going to do if someone tries to break in and I'm here alone with Maura? I actually thought recently that I should come up with an escape plan, and have some rope ladders available to climb out windows (I am not joking). I've become unable to sleep without triple checking the doors and windows and having the phone by my bed. To keep the bedroom door open or closed has become my latest quandary -- if I leave it open, I can't fall asleep because I hear every noise. If it's shut, I won't be able to hear if someone sneaks by my room into Maura's. This should not be an issue, first and foremost because Etta has the most ferocious and scary bark of any little dog you can imagine, and she barks at the sight of ANYONE, even people she knows, coming toward and into the house.

Aside from being alone a lot, I've had two people in my life recently have their homes robbed, one in broad daylight. One was my Mom's house that I used to live in. I know it's many degrees of separation (and many states away) and that everyone is fine, but the thought that someone watched them to learn their schedule freaks the living eff out of me. Is someone doing this to me?

The third and final thing (which I think might be the biggest factor) is that there have been a lot of scary things in the news lately, a lot of random violence that scares me to death. I've always reacted strongly to the news and tried hard to avoid it, balancing the need to know what's going on in the world with my feeling that I'd be better off if I never read a paper or watched TV. I almost wanted to throw up this week, several times, when I kept hearing this story about this random murder in New Hampshire of a woman and the maiming of her 11 year old daughter by a bunch of fucked up teenagers. It's so disgusting that I actually took a break from my paranoia for a minute and thought, "I hope they get the fucking death penalty or that someone shoots them on their way to court." Ten years ago I didn't even believe in the death penalty.

I know it will pass, and it's probably a product of feeling like I don't have time with my family and that I'm going to regret it one day. But wouldn't we all? Who wouldn't rather never work another day in their life, never worry about how the bills are gonna get paid and whether the pipe is going to burst?

Who wouldn't want to look at this cutie all day long and snuggle with her for more than the hour and a half I get to so many days of the week? (OK, that's hypothetical, I know as her mother I could stare at her for days on end which is not anyone else's idea of fun.)

oh my, what a year it's been

I'm still having a hard time with it, but my baby girl is officially a year old! In my eyes, she is perfect, and the best thing that ever happened to Jay and me. I love her more than I ever thought I could love another human being. Her birthday was great -- after a morning of me falling apart, remembering every exact moment of a year prior as they played out minute by minute through the day, we had a wonderful birthday party for her, with as many of her family and friends as possible gathered around. I went all out and made a ridiculous cake:
and Jay went all out and got us a really good keg and made sure to keep it nice and cold (it was a Smalley party, after all):Maura, generally, was pleased:A few days later, we had her one year appointment with the pedi, where she presented a tiny 18.5 lbs. and 27.5 inches -- roughly the size of an 8 month old. Although we think she is perfect, and the doctor called her "charming," we were instructed to call early intervention to get her assessed and caught up on some gross motor skill milestones she's yet to reach -- namely, crawling normally (not commando style, which is her preferred mode) and standing unassisted. Clearly every child progresses at her own pace, and she was an early roller-over and sitter, and babbles (almost coherently) up a blue streak, but our normally unfazed pedi was a bit fazed this time, and we're compelled to react.

We'd get to it, but holy shit, it's been busy. Although it now seems routine, our schedule of me and Jay never seeing each other is I think the primary reason this year has flown by. That coupled with the fact that my job keeps me literally half-pulling my hair out, we are still getting settled into our house, and oh, we're trying to have another baby--it's a wonder I still remember my name at the end of the day.

The having another baby thing-- well, that's a loaded canon. I certainly don't want to blog about infertility, as there are plenty of (well, hundreds of) others who do that better. And, I'm not technically infertile, since I had a baby a year ago (well, my doctor would disagree, but I maintain that I'm not). However, we are having trouble, and while I'm certainly not the most modest or private person, it's remarkably a touchy subject, even for me.

Secondary infertility (diagnostic term, check!) is rather bizarre, because about 95% of the people I talk to just don't get it, which has caused me to pretty much shut up about it. Most of the people I've talked with, even without giving full details, just saying we'd like to have another child, tell me I should just be grateful for Maura and that she should be enough. This makes me want to jump off a bridge. Having another child has absolutely nothing, ZERO, ZILCH, to do with my feelings of gratitude toward Maura, other than that I'd be grateful to the universe if she could have a sibling. Anyone who really knows me knows that frankly, I am probably borderline obsessed with my daughter, and love her so much it's unexplainable. Let's recap: I see my daughter approximately 2 hours a day during the week, my husband even less, all so we can give her the benefit of a parent at home. We are choosing to sacrifice in this way. On the weekends, I want her to be mine, all mine, but I make sure to prioritize the time she can spend with her extended family instead, who love her so much. If I could hide away with her and Jay forever, I would. I love my daughter without a single reservation. If someone told me today that she'd live a happy full life if I died tomorrow and a miserable life if I lived to be 80, I'd choose to die tomorrow. Tell me again how I'm ungrateful?

This eats at me, bit by bit, until there are moments I really do want to wave a magic wand and transport the three of us to some hidden cave where I have nothing to do and no obligations other than watching my beautiful girl breathe and smile and sleep and scooch myself into the nook of Jay's arm and fall asleep myself. This is when I feel peace, free of the judgment and criticism of my everyday.

I really am, despite all else, so grateful for my life, for the people that love and support us and Maura. I am excited that next week we'll be going to MD to celebrate my brother's wedding. I'm excited that we've got a good plan to get us to having another child. I know we've got it so easy compared to so many others. I think maybe my openness about my life invites people to criticize it, and us, more readily. Maybe a change is in order.

I'll leave you with my favorite picture of Maura from the weekend, which shows her contentment with life better than any picture yet. We must be doing something right.

working on a birthday gift for my girl

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Life's a Beach

The best day...

and the word of the day is...

cheese. Yes, that's right. Cheese. Maura's first word. She says it in this clenched-teeth whisper that just makes you want to eat her up. She has a cheese stick for lunch most days, along with her fruit, and that's the word she's picked up on. She also says "Dada," but it's rather indiscriminate, and she says something like "eesh" when she sees something she likes, but "cheese" is clearly intentional. I could just die at how cute she is.Now that she's approaching one, a lot of people have said to me, "Wow, can you imagine your life without her?" And although I think they're just being polite for asking, I sincerely answer that, no, I couldn't. I don't want to put too much pressure on the poor kid, but Jesus H, she's the best thing in the entire world, and I would literally die without her (hey, wait, wasn't that a Milli Vanilli song??) Wow, I've said "die" twice in as many paragraphs. Lest you think I'm depressed again...

See, I smile! I need some concealer and an eyebrow wax, but otherwise, I'm doing good. Trying to adjust my attitude about work, since it will be a part of my life forever, and instead focusing on making the future what we want it to be. The house is coming together; I'm looking forward to Maura's first birthday party, my brother's wedding. I've been losing some weight. Looking forward to another baby. Trying not to dwell too much on who I was, what that felt like to be in such a different place in my life in all those past stages that make up who I am now. Honestly, I'm weary from it some days. Can't the evolution of us as people come to an end to give us some fucking peace? I think I mentioned I went through a period when I was pregnant of having vivid dreams about my past, coming to terms with who I was and decisions I'd made and people I'd had in my life. I thought at that point it would be the end of all the comparisons, all the unrest. That was naive. It comes and goes in waves, and I think it will forever.

I think it all comes back to me sometimes when I think about the fact that Jay and I spend so much time apart; he works so hard to take care of her and then works so many hours, and I just miss having normal time together. Am I going to regret this one day? Regret that we just didn't put her in daycare so we could be a normal family who sees each other more than 30 minutes a day? At the end of the day, I know it's the ultimate best decision, but I'm not sure it will ever get easier.

OK, you're as sick as I am of me waxing poetic; I get it, I am too. My babealicious is doing great, and that's what helps me sleep at night.

show and tell

Here I find myself in my first remotely uneventful night so far in many months. I do have to work a bit later, but tonight there will be no unpacking or cleaning, although there is sure plenty to do. But there is lots of good news to share -- first and foremost, we're in our first home! There were many bumps along the way (Hi, Emily? It's Mortgage Broker. Can you get us a copy of the ATM slip from 17 years ago when you deposited your first paycheck from Sir Walter Raleigh Inn? Yes? Oh good. And can you prick the bottom of your left heel with a rusty nail, jump up and down 7.3 times, and then squeeze a drop of blood into a BPA-free petri dish and mail it to us Fed-Ex overnight? Thanks.), but we made it. We moved ourselves in with a few essentials and an air mattress the day we closed (which was bumped back to June 18), all gung-ho about stripping wallpaper and painting. See exhibit A, how naively we approached this painful situation, unknowing on our first night of pizza and beer that this mess would last for days and days:


All told, it took about 10 days, but by the time the moving truck rolled around on the 27th we had stripped wallpaper and painted 4 rooms (no small feat for 2 un-handy people), but not without battle wounds. Maura did not do well. Sleeping in a pack-n-play in an empty hollow room is no picnic, and it showed. She was so unhappy, which she's never been. She usually looks like this:
Or like this:
Or like this:

But instead, she didn't sleep, cried a lot, wouldn't eat, clinged to you one minute and then fought you the next. It's taken 'till now for her to begin to adjust. Another moment where I'm glad her long-term memory is barely developed. Although my child psychiatrist friends at work beg to differ and chide me that she'll be in therapy by 3 1/2. We, too, were flat out pooped. I'm in the middle of a terribly busy time at work with our biggest event of the year coming up next Tuesday, and I was in no mood to fake professional. But I did, and I think it cost me a bit of the joy I should have felt at being in my new home. I need an effing vaca, for reals. And Jay was more exhausted than I've ever seen him. But we're here, and it's amazingly coming together, and we're never ever moving again. Ever.

Here are some pics of where things stand today with the Smalleys Get Settled movement. Please take special note of my new affinity for framing wrapping paper and calling it art, particularily if it has little birds on it. Jay has been a real trooper in letting this slide, and in return, I have promised to never paint anything lavender.


There are 3 bedrooms upstairs that aren't so exciting, hence the lack of pictures. The most exciting is Maura's pink room we painted, but she snoozing at the moment and so no pic can be had.

In other Maura news, she is getting cuter by the day. No shit, I never thought I would be that cliched parent who thinks their child is the cutest, but I do. I mean, seriously. Look at this sweetness:
Every day she does something more amazing. She's unofficially 17 1/2 pounds (which is still tiny for a 10 1/2 month old but whatever), she's pretty much crawling, she stands holding onto things, dances to music, laughs, reaches for you, eats chicken and raspberries, waves hello and goodbye, rubs the back of her head and pulls her hair when she's tired, and is basically all around the best thing ever. She's really great with our family and friends, and blows kisses with the best of them. I love her so much.

I still get these weird flashes of terror about something happening to her, but I've decided that's pretty much just how it is. I almost threw up the other day when I read a story about a mother who ran over her toddler in the driveway with the family minivan, but I think it's normal to feel that way. I had a dream last night that someone tried to shoot her in her crib, but I took the gun away and shot them first. A 7 year old boy in Massachusetts died on Father's Day when his own father beat him so severely he went brain dead. I will incriminate myself now by saying that if anyone hurt her, I would kill them. Send me to jail forever, I don't care.

On a more upbeat note, generally all is good. It's fucking rained everyday for the past month, and only once or twice been in the 80s, but that can't last forever unless we've reached the end of the world, which I don't think is possible quite yet. So the bright side is: it's summer, we're in our new home, everybody's healthy, my commute is better than I thought it would be, we got $42 back at closing instead of owing thousands, Maura's adjusting, Etta stinks but curls up next to me and I love on her anyway, and Jay is so close to work he's home at literally 11:06 on the dot. Wishing you all the same.

hey y'all

Or, hey everyone I haven't alienated by not writing more! It's lame to say we've been busy, but it's totally true. We close next Monday (yeah!) and have a house full of boxes and big bags under our eyes. Between packing, momma-ing and trying to not get fired from my job for being overwhelmed and distracted, the days and weeks have been blending together.

Here's my favorite picture from the past month. I only look relaxed because I'd had a giant margarita with an extra shot, and Maura has her fake smile that she does whenever the camera gets in front of her, which usually causes her eyes to close and cracks me up.

One other fun fact is that outside of work, this was the first time in months I put on a clean t-shirt that was actually mine and not Jay's. As much as I hate to admit it, I've turned into a dumpy housewife who wears her husband's t-shirts and thinks it's OK.

I reflect on this a lot. As I was packing I was looking through photo albums and got caught up on a particular old picture of me, taken in DC the fall after I'd moved to Boston. I was visiting. I had on a red leather jacket, Diesel jeans and my favorite bright green weird hand-knit scarf. My hair was cute and short and highlighted, and the person who took it said of me, "Wow, she's got so much style. Dosen't she have so much style?" The picture captures that feeling exactly, but as I looked at it, it seemed like another person in another time. I guess, in a sense, it was. I mean honestly, I had a student come up to me once and remark how he'd never seen me in the same outfit twice all semester. At the time, this made my fucking day, no joke. But I guess, no, I KNOW, I can't get a better accessory than the lady above, right? Identity issues continue, clearly...

Another side effect of moving is that we've Googled real estate listings so much we killed our computer and had to get a new one. It just arrived today. And as I was transfering files, I found other old remnants of my past life. Stories I'd started, but never finished. My God how I used to love to write. And today, for an hour, I did. I'd started this story in October of 2004. What was I doing then? Well, I was with Jay, working somewhere I can't remember and I think, had just moved in with Jay in Taunton that spring. I may have been doing my triathlons, as this was the fall before I attempted my failed run of the Boston Marathon (and I have never set one foot in front of the other to run again). I can't even remember the exact details, but reading this old story, and picking up today and writing a few minutes more on it five years later felt so good, like I returned to something I had been missing but was always there. (Cliche, cliche, I know.) I actually remembered as I read this the ending I wanted it to have, unwritten all these years. I called it "seagulls." One day soon, I will finish writing it. Here we go on the so-far parts:

We were at the beach in Gloucester, Ethan and me, and Elise, the woman from the office. Not mine, not my office, but Ethan’s. She was, or she is, Canadian. This means nothing to me, but it means everything to Ethan. He started working at the office right after we moved here, right after we moved from Virginia to Boston, so he could work at this job at Fidelity and I could be, well, so I could live with him, because I’d just finished grad school in ophthalmology and thought it was the adult thing to do, move in with my boyfriend, even though we’d be conducting our relationship long distance, me in South Carolina in grad school him in Virginia gainfully unemployed waiting for a dream job to fall from the sky—anyway, all he could talk about was this nice woman from work, how she was Canadian, and how they might try to send her back because she can’t hold down a job because everyone is getting laid off and how she was living with this boyfriend but they just broke up and she still has to live with him because it’s so hard to find a place in the city and my God? Can you believe it? No, I said, no, I can’t believe it. So can she come to the beach with us today, I kind of already invited her and it would be hard to back out now? And naturally I was compelled by this Canadian so I rolled our towels tightly and sorted through our sunscreen bottles and said sure, fine, we’ll bring her along.

Not that I was thrilled, I mean really, come on, to Ethan, Canadian’s are exotic. And this one, according to Ethan, has even lived in South America and Australia and London and New York and I mean, can you believe it? No, I said, no, I can’t believe it. And then he leans into me like he’s gonna kiss me but instead slaps my butt with both of his hands and grabs tight and laughs with his head back, his neck long and knotty, and I think, this is the man I am choosing to live with. Maybe the Canadian can have him if she wants.

And that morning we went to the beach is when he said to me the strangest thing he’s ever said, and I didn’t know what to attribute it to, but this is what he said. He said,

I just want to warn you I might not be affectionate today, because I’ll be around people from the office.

People? I said. Only the Canadian will be there.

so we picked her up; she lived in the North End, in a small walk-up above Mike’s Pastries, and she was waiting out front of there with the nice little blue and white box tied with string they give you, and she had a whole bag made out of macramé that was filled with food, a bread loaf sticking out near her shoulder, apples settling on the bottom, like a fucking cornucopia or something. We pulled up next to her and Ethan is waving and I got out to let her in the back and Ethan says, “Honey, babe, you wanna let Elise sit in front?”

I looked at him and then looked at her and she smelled like pastries and I should have known then.

So we’re on the beach, and she’s got this spread around her, and we are three across on an old quilt, Elise in the middle, and I get bits and pieces, literally, of everything. My bagels don’t go over big; we are eating brie and grapes from her macramé bag. But she and Ethan each take two, maybe even three, bites for themselves before they even offer me one. I am watching this family to my left, a big family, not in quantity but size. The biggest family I’ve ever seen. And I watch them, the mother in a green amazon print tank suit and stained pink knit shorts, bunched up high in her inner thighs while she sits in her umbrella chair, her calves fat and touching, leaving her feet a full two feet apart buried in the sand. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, maybe they weren’t that far apart, but you could have fit a rubber ball in there, at least. Her ankles were this perplexing salmon color, and I wanted to tell her, don’t be stupid, put some sunscreen on those feet.

Ha! That's a far as I got. But I know how it all turns out and will write it. I will. It has to do with seagulls, eating sandwiches.