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At Last, Some Justice for Henry

Song Lyric of the Day:

I dreamt all nite of summertime / Of what I thought was mine / We all fall down / It’s just a matter of time

Lane Abernathy / “The Scientist

Those of you who have been longtime readers of my blog may remember that last June I wrote about the tragic death of 18-year-old Henry Granju. And if you’re a local, a follower of Katie Granju’s blog, or both, then you are keenly aware of the hell she (and her family) has been through in the almost 16 months since Henry died. Not only has Katie been living every parent’s nightmare, but she has been living that nightmare in a very public, very critical media spotlight. Why? Because she dared to call out local law enforcement on how they were handling Henry’s case. Because she stood up for her son, provided him with a voice when his was forever silenced, and refused to let his be written off as the death of just another drug addict (as some in local law enforcement undoubtedly saw it).

After Henry’s hospitalization last year, Katie finally confessed her painful secret: Her firstborn child was a drug addict. She readily admitted that Henry’s choices had led him down this most unfortunate of paths; his family’s love and support and even rehab had not helped him beat his addiction. But after Henry died, Katie committed herself to getting justice for Henry — she was going to do everything in her power, from using her very high-profile blog to conducting her own investigation, to make sure that the people who supplied Henry with the drugs on which he overdosed and who then delayed calling 911 for hours to seek medical help for him, were held accountable.

As a result of her crusade, Katie has been criticized, harassed, ridiculed, and dismissed as the grieving, in-denial mother of a drug addict. Which, while she is still grieving, she was never in denial about how and why Henry ended up where he did that night. What she did want, though, was for the two lowlifes who played a part in his death to be punished. And, late yesterday, it finally happened: Arrests were made, and the people who supplied Henry with drugs that night were finally hauled off to jail.

While it was the KPD who arrested and took those people into custody, Katie’s determination and perseverance throughout the past several months cannot be dismissed as having played an integral part in the investigation. And while so many in our community railed against her and exhibited the worst possible side of humanity — one which made me ashamed of my community — Katie continued on and got to see these arrests made in Henry’s case. As to those people who made cruel, heartless, usually anonymous comments about Henry, Katie, and their family, well, we should all be so lucky to have a parent fight so hard for us in life, and even in death.

Katie and her family finally got some justice for Henry, but they will never get their sweet boy back. Remember that when you feel the urge to write someone off as merely an addict. Sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, friends, coworkers — behind every addict is a person loved by someone. Your helping hand just might be the lifeline they need.

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Magical Midwest Mystery Tour 2011*
OR
How We Spent Our Summer Vacation

Song Lyric of the Day:

You can have a lot of fun in a New York minute / But there’s some things you can’t do inside those city limits / Ain’t no closing time / Ain’t no cover charge / Just country boys and girls gettin’ down on the farm

Tim McGraw / “Down on the Farm

Rich and I just took our first vacation since our “babymoon” to Denver and Breckenridge last February, our first as a family. We decided that since our last visit to his extended family was October 2007 and we now have Miss Baby, a visit was long overdue. So at the start of this month, we made arrangements for family members to house- and pet-sit, packed up Little Mo, and hit the road.

Our first day on the road, Saturday, was primarily spent driving to our determined halfway point: a hotel in Champaign, Ill. Seeing as how Coraline’s longest car trip at this point was the two-hour drive to and from Chattanooga the weekend before, we weren’t sure how well she’d handle being in the car. She ended up doing better than we expected, mostly sleeping, but fussing every now and then. If she got too fussy, we’d find a safe place to stop and stretch our legs, and whoever wasn’t driving that shift would hop in the backseat with her. By the time we got to our hotel, Rich and I were dead tired, and Coraline was raring to walk and explore. She — and we by extension — slept terribly that night. It was Coraline’s first time sleeping anywhere besides her crib in her room, we were in a strange place, and the crib was like a little jail cell on wheels with its cold, white metal bars. Oh, and I was paranoid about bed bugs (for naught, thank God), which also contributed to my lack of sleep.

Book Hat

"Are we there yet?"

Sunday we drove to Des Moines, Ia., for the night. We checked into our hotel, which was about two blocks from Rich’s Uncle Gary’s house. We then headed to his house, where Gary cooked us a divine dinner and we hung out with him for a few hours. He was but the first of many relatives Coraline would meet that week. Then it was back to our hotel room — much, much smaller than the one the night before — and a night of lackluster sleep thanks to Coraline’s discomfort and the biker bar we didn’t know was around the corner until we got in bed and heard all the engines revving.

Monday morning we hit the road again, this time headed to Ames, Ia., to see Rich’s cousin Tom and his wife, Erin. From there, we followed Tom and Erin to Roland, Ia., to Tom’s parents’ house. Here not only did Coraline meet her Great-Uncle Dick and Great-Aunt Linda, she also met her second cousins (and Tom’s siblings) Pete, Nick, and Anna. We enjoyed a great cookout on their deck — built “like a brick shithouse” according to Uncle Dick — while Coraline enjoyed walking around and getting kisses from their dog, Tucker. The most meaningful visit this leg of our trip was seeing Rich’s Grandma Lee, Coraline’s great-grandmother, at her assisted living facility. Grandma Lee is now 97(!) years old, and unfortunately did not remember who I was. She did, however, remember who Rich was, and she’d been shown enough pictures of Coraline in association with Rich that she knew who she was. Coraline loved her Great-Grandma Lee, almost as much as she enjoyed walking into the main hallway and making friends with every resident and nurse who passed by.

Tucker!

Tucker!

Tuesday morning we headed to Sioux Falls, S.D., to Rich’s cousin Jenny’s house. In addition to Jenny, Coraline met Jenny’s husband, Neil, and their kids Hope, Liam, Cameron, and Griffin for the first time. Coraline especially took to Griffin, 5, we think in large part due to the fact that he not only looks a lot like her cousin Elliott, but he has a lot of the same mannerisms as Elliott. And the same crazy energy, to boot. (I even accidentally called him Elliott a couple of times. Not that he noticed.) That night, in addition to a wonderful home-cooked meal prepared by Jenny and Neil, Jenny’s brothers Jason and Jaz came over, along with Taia, Jaz’s wife. Coraline did well other than crying a bit when she met Jason. To be fair, she’d just woken up from a nap and there were suddenly three new people in the house who weren’t there a few hours before.

Wednesday morning we packed up (yes, again) and headed for Alta, Ia., to Rich’s cousin Kurt and his wife Leah’s farm. Coraline got off to a bit of a shaky start with their 16-month-old, Hanna, but by the next morning both girls were getting along great (and Hanna was more willingly sharing her toys), with Coraline adoringly following her big third cousin around the house. Coraline also enjoyed meeting Marv, Kurt and Leah’s dog. Rich and I think she enjoyed having temporary pets on vacation since she loves our dogs and cats so much. Wednesday night we had dinner at Rich’s Aunt Diane and Uncle Bruce’s farm in Storm Lake, Ia. While there, Coraline got to meet her Great-Grandpa Edwards and her Great-Grandma Arlene for the first time; she also met Rich’s cousins Kyle, Kris, Kerry, Susan (Kerry’s wife), and Matthew (Kerry and Susan’s son). Leah and Hanna were also there. That night ended up being Coraline’s first really good night of sleep on our trip.

Marv!

Marv!

Thursday morning, we went with Grandpa Edwards and Grandma Arlene to a couple of nearby parks with Coraline, then enjoyed lunch with them at The Villager retaurant (I waited four years to have those onion rings again — totally worth the wait). Later that afternoon we packed up and headed to yet another relative’s house. Although we only packed up a fraction of our stuff as we were going to come back to Kurt and Leah’s house the next day. This time, we headed for Rich’s Aunt Janet and Uncle John’s house in Jackson, Minn. Which, while a beautiful area, is so in the middle of nowhere our cell phones didn’t work. Coraline enjoyed seeing Janet and John’s chickens, whose eggs Rich would enjoy for breakfast the next morning. We enjoyed yet another delicious, home-cooked meal (we were SO well-fed on this trip) that night. And, as I’d anticipated, as soon as Aunt Janet saw Coraline’s “operator” pose when bedtime rolled around, she exclaimed, “Carol!” — Coraline inherited that trait from her grandmother, Janet’s sister. Coraline had a hard time falling asleep that night, we think because it was the sixth straight night in a new location. Once she went down, though, she slept through the night.

Wiped out

Coraline passed out on Janet and John's couch Friday morning

Friday morning it was back to Alta, where Rich helped with the preparations for his Aunt Diane and Uncle Bruce’s 40th wedding anniversary celebration to be held that night in the farm’s Morton building. I did my best with baby wrangling, but Hanna was not having it — I fell firmly into the “stranger danger” zone as far as she was concerned. That night, a bunch of friends and relatives came to the farm to celebrate Diane and Bruce’s big night. We lucked out in that Rich’s Aunt Joan and Uncle Ed came from Des Moines, making it so we got to see them after all. Coraline handled meeting everyone like a little champ — she was practically a pro at this point. We enjoyed one last night with a lot of family members before hitting the hay. Saturday, it was up and on the road for our first day of driving home. We stopped at the same hotel in Champaign, where Coraline once again went nuts exploring. Turns out she has a fondness for playing on luggage carts — who knew? That night, Rich and I took her down to the pool, but she was so tired from being on the road all day she didn’t want to swim. Which worked out since a comically large, albeit not comically obnoxious, family was running amok in the pool area while we were there. So it was back to our room for the night, the last one before we would be back in our own beds at home. As it is, I ended up holed up in the bathroom blogging so I wouldn’t keep Rich and Coraline up while I wrote my 9/11 10th anniversary post.

Sunday’s drive was nice, uneventful, and long. About an hour before we got home, Rich and I had basically become delirious and were making weird, off-color, and just flat-out bizarre jokes about anything and everything. We could not get home fast enough at that point. Once home, Coraline seemed to rejoice in seeing her pets and toys again, although she had a hard time falling asleep that night, probably because it was a big deal to re-acclimate to her own crib and room again. Rich and I, however, did not have any problem sleeping in our own bed that night — after 10 days and 2,532.8** miles, it turned out to be our best night of sleep yet.

***

Needless to say, I took a lot of photos on this trip. I’ve compiled them in a slideshow. And maybe, one of these days, I’ll have enough time to go in and add descriptions to all of them. But after reading the post above, you shouldn’t have any problem putting two and two together.

*I called this post Magical Midwest Mystery Tour 2011 since we were never in the same place two days in a row. It got to be a game, me calling home to check in and my parents trying to guess from where I was calling on any given day.

**The Elantra got up to an impressive 40.1 MPG average on this trip. Which made us all the happier that we bought it before this trip.

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10 Years Later

Song Lyric of the Day:

Since that day / They wounded New York / Some people say / They hate us of old / Our women unveiled / Our slaves and our gold / I wouldn’t know / I’m just holding the fort

Leonard Cohen / “On That Day

I will never forget where I was and how I heard the news. I was on my way to work in Virginia Beach and, while channel surfing on the radio, I somehow ended up listening to Mancow while I waited at the light to turn into my office’s parking lot. I remember him saying how a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City, and how he couldn’t understand how that had happened since it was a clear, beautiful day that Tuesday morning. At the time, I thought he meant a small plane, maybe a private plane, had crashed into the tower. Little did I know.

By the time I walked into my office about three minutes later, all my coworkers were in a tizzy. I was brought up to speed very quickly, and all 16 or so of us tried desperately to log onto a news site, any news site, to find out what was going on. Finally, one coworker got through and was able to pull up live video on MSNBC.com. The video image was so small, and none of us huddled around that one computer could really comprehend what we were seeing. There was a lot of smoke and fire, but we couldn’t make out much more. A tower had been hit, we knew that. Then the second tower was hit. The reporters said something about the Pentagon. I vividly remember the sound of seemingly every fighter jet in Hampton Roads taking off within a matter of minutes. To this day, that is still one of the worst, most terrifying sounds I’ve ever heard. There was a report about yet another plane crash, this time in Pennsylvania. We were all stunned, not knowing what was going on, what target was going to be next. Watching that tiny video image, we all thought we saw an explosion. My desk phone rang a minute later, and I ran to grab it. No sooner had I said hello than my sister basically screamed, “The tower’s gone!” I didn’t understand what she was saying. “What do you mean, the tower’s gone?” I asked. She could barely talk, she was so upset. I remember her saying something about how it had pancaked, collapsing floor by floor. It was gone. I don’t remember getting off the phone, or relaying the news to my coworkers that we hadn’t just seen an explosion, we’d seen the tower collapse, but they all knew. They’d heard my side of the phone call.

After that, things get a bit fuzzy. I remember my mom calling, crying, saying how she couldn’t get through to any of our relatives in the city. I remember my hands were shaking. My boss came out of his office and simply said, “Go home. Go home and pray for our country.” One of my coworkers told me he hoped all my family in the city was safe. That’s when I started to cry.

I know I called Rich to tell him I was heading home. I don’t remember the drive, though. I got home and of course ran for the TV. I think by this time the second tower had collapsed. The news started rerunning the footage of the first plane hitting the first tower. Rich was home by then, and we watched that horrible image together. I remember thinking how easily that plane went into the building, almost like a hot knife into butter, and how horrific it was to watch. I fought back the urge to throw up.

Time blurred after that. Rather, I lost track of time. I know almost every cable channel we had was covering the attacks; regularly scheduled programming ceased to exist. I know that at some point my mom called to say that our family was OK. Heartsick, devastated, and terrified, but OK. I found out one of my bookstore manager’s friends died in the Pentagon attacks. Another friend was actually in D.C., watching everything happen with her own eyes. I couldn’t tear myself away from the news. I watched TV every moment I could. I recorded hours and hours of news coverage; if we ever had a child, I’d have real-time coverage to show them to try to explain what I myself couldn’t understand. I devoured magazine and newspaper coverage about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about the sheer terror the people in the towers must have felt. I couldn’t stop hoping to hear of survivors found alive in the rubble. I couldn’t get enough of the survivors’ and rescuers’ stories, bright spots amid all that horror and devastation. After several days of this, I couldn’t sleep anymore. And I couldn’t stop crying.

I’m not sure exactly how many days had passed, but finally Rich cut off my TV watching. I was a mess already, and continuing to watch nonstop coverage was only serving to increase my anxiety. He dragged me out to dinner on my birthday, September 17. It seemed like we were the only people in that Chili’s besides the waitstaff. I dutifully ate my dinner and dessert. I made it through that dinner without crying.

***

I managed to resume a somewhat normal routine. Work. Dinner. Sleep. Socialize with friends. I never was able to shake this increasing sense of dread, this anxiety that was ratcheting up, the feeling that I was waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop, though. I just knew that my grandfather was going to pass away soon; his cancer had spread, and he’d practically been at death’s door that summer. But he didn’t die then, hanging on for seven more months. Instead, my mom got diagnosed with breast cancer. And I knew then that was the sense of dread, that proverbial other show. It’s what I’d been waiting for.

***

Aside from the fundamental changes 9/11 brought for the U.S. and the world at large, it profoundly changed me. I was born in New York City, and so was my mom, so seeing that kind of devastation wreaked on our hometown … I can’t put it into words. Rich and I made it a point to visit Ground Zero during our April 2002 visit to New York City (Rich’s first), where we paid our respects, where we couldn’t read all the tributes left there through our tears, where I forgot to take flowers. Because you should always take flowers to a cemetery. I can say I was never prouder to be — and still am — a New Yorker than when I saw how my hometown, that beautiful, amazing city left in ruins, stood united and taller and stronger than ever.

***

Because 9/11 has had such an impact on me (literally a day has not gone by where I haven’t thought about it), I jumped at the chance to participate in the 2,996 blog project that memorialized those lost in the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon and those aboard United 93. Participating bloggers were randomly assigned a person; I was assigned Adam Shelby White. I didn’t get to talk to any of his relatives while I worked on my post about him. Actually, I was afraid to reach out to them, even though it was five years later. I didn’t want to reopen those wounds. Still, through my research, I felt like I got to know Adam; he was someone I got to like, a young man whose birthday, it turned out, was only nine days after my own. I wanted to get that post just right — it had to be perfect for him, for his memory. When I hit the publish button, I finally let myself cry for him. And it’s because of that post that his friend, Ryan, reached out to me. Ryan, another young man close to me in age, a young father and husband, another young man gone too soon. And I can’t tell you how much it sucks to know that Adam and Ryan, best friends in life, are now forever, inextricably bound together through their deaths, certainly for me. Because if I’d never written about Adam, I never would’ve known about Ryan. And now I wouldn’t have two young men whom I never met who I grieve for just as if I had actually known them in life. (I’ve received comments and emails from Adam’s father and some of Ryan’s relatives, and I can’t tell you how much that meant to me.)

***

Since I started this blog in 2004, I’ve written about 9/11 a few times. I don’t know if I’ll write about it again next year, or the year after that, or beyond that. But I will be thinking of my hometown, and of D.C., and of those who perished in that Pennsylvania field, on that day, every year for the rest of my life. That I can promise you: that I will never, ever forget.

Wishing with all my heart I was in New York City today …

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No Caffeine and No Alcohol Make Pattie Something Something*

Song Lyric of the Day:

My body tells me no! / But I won’t quit / I want more, I want more / And it rides out of town

Young the Giant / “My Body

It’s been a while since I’ve had caffeine. A long while. In fact, my last drops of caffeine were drunk in the form of a Coke I had with lunch on Friday, January 22, 2010. I remember the exact date because immediately after work that night is when I took the home pregnancy test that (obviously) came up positive. Rich ended up having to talk me off the proverbial ledge when I saw that plus sign and freaked out (OK, one of many reasons I freaked out) that the caffeine I’d had that day would hurt the baby. As it is, by that time I’d already scaled my caffeine intake wayyyyy back since we were trying to get pregnant. Which turned out to be a good thing. And luckily for us, Coraline did not come out a hopped-up, twitchy little caffeine addict. Dodged a bullet there.

Mexican Coke

Coke with real sugar, how I've missed you.

I haven’t drunk any alcohol for even longer than that. My last drink was on New Year’s Eve 2009, when I toasted the coming year with a bit of champagne. As with my cutting down on caffeine, I’d already decided by then that that would be the last alcohol I had for a while since Rich and I were actively trying to get pregnant. Little did we know that Miss Baby was already in existence (we got pregnant really quickly), so it’s a really good thing I didn’t drink after that. Not that I’ve ever been a big drinker — I certainly wouldn’t be upset if Prohibition made a comeback. I get tipsy off a glass of wine and a four-pack of wine coolers can last me months. And I’ve never given in to the urge to drink my troubles away after a bad or particularly stressful day, no matter how much I’ve wanted to. (Ah, the responsible, smart decisions you make when you’re an ACoA).

So why am I writing about this now? Because we’re getting ready to go on vacation soon, our first in, well, I can’t remember how long. I know Rich and I went to that awesome bed and breakfast a couple of years ago, but that’s the most recent thing that comes to mind. This will also be our first long-distance trip with Coraline, who handled this past weekend’s drive to and from Chattanooga better than we expected. Anyhoo, I’m thinking I’ll likely fall off the caffeine wagon during this trip — we’ll be driving to Iowa, and it’s a 16-hour drive we’re going to split over two days. I’m going to need to stay more alert than my currently non-caffeinated self is. My personal litmus test with regard to giving in and drinking caffeine was this year’s Relay for Life, a test I passed since I made it through without a drop of caffeine. Not that it was easy. I know this drive won’t be — Rich and I are not spring chickens anymore. We’re parents.

As for thinking about drinking alcohol again, well, did I mention the 16-hour drive with an 11-month-old who’s never been in the car that long? Ever? Not even for one-fourth that amount of time? This is a baby who tries to gnaw through her car-seat restraints when she’s decided she’s tired of being stuck in the car. That usually happens around the 15- or 20-minute mark. I’m really hoping how well Coraline handled the drive to Chattanooga is a good indicator that she’ll do better on the Iowa drive than we hope she will. Of course, now that I’ve said that, I’ve jinxed us and you’ll see us on the national news along with the headline “Baby Hijacks Elantra on Interstate Drive.” Rich and I will then be interviewed by a green-behind-the-ears reporter eager to hear all about how our baby took over driving since she was sick and tired of being cooped up in a car, listening to her parents’ iPod playlists on repeat and their boring, domestic conversations about what house projects they’re going to start upon returning from Iowa, and their complaining about how often they have to stop to stretch and relieve their bladders … See? I need a drink already.

Daiquiri

Minus the whipped cream, this is perfect.

*I admit — being a Simpsons fanatic, I was absolutely thinking of this when I came up with this post title.

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Dear Coraline: Month 11

Dear Coraline,

As of 1AM this morning, you turned 11 months old. Thankfully, this month has been far less eventful than last month was. If I had to guess your weight as of today, I’d estimate that you’re around 20 pounds (based on my biceps, anyway). You’re almost exclusively wearing clothes sized 12 months and — you guessed it — are still in size 3 diapers. You finally outgrew your infant car seat carrier: Day 310 saw you graduate to your official big-girl car seat, which is in our new car (a second big-girl car seat will be here soon for your poppa’s truck). You’re also so incredibly happy — you’re a delight to be around, smiling easily and making us laugh through your actions and facial expressions. And you are just gorgeous, with a full head of curly, fluffy hair, eight teeth (still), chubby little fingers and toes, awesome arm and thigh rolls, and a perfect, round belly.

HappyThis month, you’ve turned into my crazy, silly little monkey. You can stand up unassisted for several seconds at a time, and can walk several steps on your own before stopping and sitting down. You rarely fall these days, and when you do, you cry more out of surprise and frustration than actual injury. Although you occasionally do bonk your head — you’re lucky you seem to have your poppa’s thick skull. Basically, you never want to stop moving. You almost never want to stay in your play yard anymore, and you rely less and less on your dinosaur to walk, preferring instead to hold my or your poppa’s hand(s) as you parade around our house. You also love taking “wind sprints” along the length of the couch, jumping up and down, screaming with delight, and biting the cushions when you get to either end.

Standing TallYou first walked holding only one of my hands on day 314, going on to walk between your poppa and I around the basement for the first time, holding onto one of each of our hands, later that night. That was also the same day you seemed to purposely turn your dinosaur instead of going in your usual straight line. The next day you went on to stand unassisted for almost 15 seconds, a new record. You also cracked up your poppa that night by rolling around like Scrooge McDuck for a full five minutes on the downstairs dog beds (I was upstairs taking an online class at the time). I enjoyed witnessing your first true solo walk, from our ottoman to the couch, on day 316: You held your arms out Frankenstein-like and made it a few steps before falling. For some reason, later that night you did what can only be described as a Spider-Man crawl on the basement floor; your poppa and I found it quite amusing. The following day, you walked/ran on tippy toe (a habit of yours) from the ottoman to the sofa, then from the ottoman to me, then stood on your own while you drank from your sippy cup. That night we enjoyed a birthday dinner for your Auntie T, at which your cousin Elliott played peekaboo with you, cracking you up in the middle of the restaurant.

Mugging for the CameraAs the aforementioned rolls and round belly would attest, you eat very well. You weren’t crazy about your first taste of baked chicken (day 304), but now you love it. That was also the day you last had breastmilk; I’m happy I had enough stored to last until you were 10 months and 1 day old, since I never thought we’d make it that far. That night you demonstrated that you knew what “kiss” meant when you kissed both your poppa and I on request. You later made us laugh when you gleefully grabbed our cat Buster, who was trying to relax on the couch, and when you refused to go in the play tunnel we bought you, preferring instead to go (far) around it. Two days later (day 306), you waved when we asked you to. You really enjoyed — and still do — showing off that skill to whoever asked. Going back to new foods, you liked your first taste of cooked spinach, which you sampled from your poppa’s breakfast (day 313), as well as corn, which you tried the next day.

Walking!Your baby talk has finally evolved into a few discernible words. Your first word was “up,” said to your abuelo and verified by your abuela (day 309). That was also the day your abuelo let you try some ice cream; he said you wanted some since your cousin Stephen was having some. I’m sure you’ll love it someday, but right now you’re not a fan of how cold it is. You said “dada” (day 317) before you ever said “momma” (ouch). While your poppa swore he heard you say “momma” (day 324), I didn’t hear it that first time; I did hear what you said, but it didn’t sound like “momma” to me. I think your poppa was trying to humor me so I wouldn’t feel left out. It wasn’t until a few days later, when we picked you up from your abuelo and abuela’s house, that I finally heard you say “momma” (day 329). Your abuelo said that not only had you been saying it all day (yay!), but you’d been saying “poppa” for about a half hour before we picked you up. We find it funny that you said “dada” first since we always refer to your poppa as, well, “poppa.” But you’ve obviously heard other people refer to him as “daddy,” so we know that’s how you made the connection.

Saying hi to Mirror BabyProving once again that you are indeed your poppa’s daughter, you “played” Jenga (day 312) one evening, successfully getting six pieces out — the lowest piece being six rows down — before the tower fell over. During your second round, you got a piece in the ninth row down out before the tower fell over. All in all, not too shabby for your first time playing. You also appreciate how our game shelf is organized, trying to put back a game you’d taken out (day 325) before your poppa could do it for you.

As is typical, you have enjoyed many visits with family and friends. When your grandma and grandpa came over (day 318) to see you show off your walking skills, your grandma brought you her beautiful antique baby doll cradle, which you promptly squeezed yourself into. At dinner with them that night, you tried cucumber for the first time, which you liked. (It’s worth noting that cucumber came from your abuelo’s garden.) You tried ground beef for the first time (day 322) and LOVED it. To the point that you started eating it so quickly you ended up getting sick because you crammed too much in your mouth. At least I know that we can look forward to trips to a local burger joint when you’re bigger.

The Cora's in the CradleYou continually amaze us with your cognitive skills. It really is wonderful watching you learn new things and figure out things all on your own. For instance, your poppa used a cloth napkin to play peekaboo with you at Little Bangkok restaurant (day 323). Once you had the napkin in your own hands, you would drape it over your head, then quickly pull it off, smiling and laughing as you played peekaboo back. You learned how to back up your dinosaur on your own (day 324) when you got stuck. You mimicked me pointing out words during bedtime stories (day 331), and even turned the pages of your books when I asked you to (day 334). You also figured out my iPad very quickly, which I knew you would. That night we enjoyed some quiet time together, watching YouTube videos of hungry kittens and giggling babies (day 329) with you nestled into my side, sucking your thumb. Halfway through a kitten video, you turned to look up at me and flashed me the biggest smile. I love those sweet, stolen moments we have together.

CoyAlong with you learning new things comes you learning not to do certain things. You understand when we tell you “no” and “stop.” Of course, you didn’t listen too well one night and ended up dousing yourself with a glass of cold water because of it (day 327). We couldn’t help but laugh at your stunned expression before you started wailing; we dried you off and you calmed down pretty quickly. You’ve also taken to exploring the kitchen, trying to eat every cabinet doorknob within reach. You don’t like when Troubadour is crated for a time-out, working hard to figure out the latches to spring him from his canine hoosegow. You’re quite interested in a hole in one of the basement doors. When we tell you “no” to keep you from touching it (lest you get a splinter), you give us this look as if to say, “What? I wasn’t going to actually touch it,” before turning your attention to a door hinge or the door itself, acting as if that old wood is the most fascinating thing in the world.

The face of innocenceI can’t believe that in exactly one month you’ll turn one year old. Where have the last 11 months gone? You’ve gone from my tiny, 6-pound, 7-ounce newborn to a little walking, somewhat-talking dynamo. It’s such a privilege and blessing for me to watch you grow and learn, especially since you seem to be developing leaps and bounds every day now. I look forward to many more fun times with you, as well as our little stolen moments — I live for those hugs you give me when you walk into my arms, you know. I can’t wait to celebrate your birthday with our family and friends next month, and to experience all that your toddlerhood will bring. Until then …

Sweetnesslove,

Mommy

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Looking Up

Song Lyric of the Day:

I know that you may think / That I’m a broken little bird in my mind / Cause I’m falling on the floor / I’m climbing up the walls / And every time I get a grip / I seem to lose myself just a little more

Medina / “Addiction”

Finally — I have a few minutes to update my poor, neglected blog. As I wrote last month, things have been crazy busy lately. Thankfully, things have settled down a bit, which is good. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed by life, right up to a couple days ago, even. Actually, I was getting to feeling pretty damn low. But things — and my attitude — are looking up. I feel like I’m regaining control over things I had seemingly lost control of, things are slowing down to a more manageable pace, things are looking up.

Of course, how can I not be happy about planning Coraline’s first birthday party? Aside from the fact that almost a year has passed since she was liberated from my ovarian Bastille (thanks to my friend Elliott for that quote), she’s growing leaps and bounds, walking, and learning something new every day. Rich and I are also in the process of planning a trip to Iowa to visit his extended family; it’ll be great seeing everyone again and introducing them to Miss Baby, particularly since it’s been four years since our last visit. And last, but not least, I did something I never do: I splurged. On something for myself. An iPad, to be exact. On which I’ve written this post. (Thanks to the hubby for his help with some MacBook hard drive cleanup.) So rarely do I spend significant sums of money, in fact, that my cardholder called the morning after I bought my iPad to verify that it was indeed me who made that purchase. Nice to know they’re paying attention, despite creeping me out by listing places I’d eaten lunch that week.

But I digress. I’m still here, and things are looking up. It’s a good place to be.

Now to figure this iPad thingamabob out …

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We the People No Longer Exist

Song Lyric of the Day:

The pen with a bent wrist crooked king / Sign away our peace for your war, one word and it’s over / Dropping your bombs now / On all we’ve built / How does it feel now to watch it burn, burn, burn? / Raise your weapons, raise your weapons and it’s over

Deadmau5 / “Raise Your Weapon

I almost never blog about politics. I have before, but I haven’t in a long time. Why is that? I think it’s mostly because I’m not a political pundit — it’s not my area of expertise or interest. I stay up on the news, I make my decisions based on facts and my core beliefs, and that’s pretty much it. I’m not out to change people’s opinions and beliefs. Just because I support gay marriage rights and a woman’s right to choose and believe in the death penalty doesn’t mean I’m not going to respect you for having a different opinion. As it is, even though my leanings are decidely liberal, a lot of my close friends are conservatives. Make of that what you will.

But lately, I’ve found this ridiculous debt ceiling crisis to be a truly depressing commentary about the U.S.’s political climate; it’s essentially highlighted the absolute worst of our government in the most unflattering light possible. Republicans and Democrats have been proclaiming they’re bipartisan for ages, but it’s really just a load of crap. For so long now, the mentality in D.C. has been the us vs. them attitude. And by us vs. them, I mean Republicans vs. Democrats (and vice versa). It’s not about what’s best for American society as a whole — you know, people like you and I — it’s all about which side can gain the upper hand by passing/vetoing laws, cutting/adding spending, starting/ending wars, providing/denying healthcare, and so on. Our elected officials — the people we have elected to office and whose paychecks we pay through our taxes — could care less about what will benefit their constituencies. We re-elect those we think are doing a good job. We elect new people we hope will do a good job and deliver on their promises. But in the end, they’re all failing us. And it feels like we’re powerless to do anything. Do you think our senators, congressmen/women, and assorted higher ups (including you, Mr. President and Mr. Vice President) would willingly take pay cuts to help with the debt ceiling crisis or to benefit our economy in general? Hell no, they wouldn’t. Because it’s all about what they want, constituent peons be damned.

We the People no longer exist. And I find that too depressing for words.

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Something for Coraline: Fisher-Price Little People Castle

I’m incredibly sentimental about my childhood toys. I have lots of beloved stuffed animals (as well as my Cabbage Patch Dolls) to pass on to Coraline when she’s a little older. There’s a dollhouse I had that I loved more than anything but my parents got rid of it a long time ago; thankfully, I’ve already found it and all its accessories and dolls on eBay so I can buy everything and give it to Coraline someday. I can only hope she’ll love it as much as I did. And then there’s the Fisher-Price Little People Castle I (and later, my sisters) played with when I was little, a toy so popular at the time it came out that my mom had to go to New Jersey to buy it. I don’t remember the specifics of playing with it, but I do remember how much I loved it. God, I loved that castle. So it was with giddy delight I picked it up from my parents’ house recently, where it had been gathering dust in the garage for several years now. Only a few of the accessories are still around, but, again, I have eBay to help me replace them someday (it came with the yellow chairs/table). Rich and I introduced Coraline to the castle a couple nights ago, and I can’t express how happy it made me that she loved it instantly. She loved it so much, in fact, that she actually screamed and started crying when I went to put it back in the storage room — and she hadn’t even played with any of the accessories yet, just the castle (the whole playset is actually meant for slightly older kids). I look forward to acquiring the missing accessories over the next several months and completing the set once more. And then Coraline and I can have fun playing with it together.

Fisher-Price Little People Castle

Castle!

 

Accessories

All that remains: two beds, two thrones, the king, the carriage, and the horse's royal saddle.

 

Castle Flag

Coraline's favorite part? Making the flagpole go boi-oi-oi-oing over and over.

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Dear Coraline: Month 10

Dear Coraline,

As of 1AM this morning, you turned 10 months old. You went to the doctor yesterday (day 302) for a weight recheck (he wanted to make sure you were OK after losing weight during your ear infection) and weighed in at a healthy 18.6 pounds. Dr. J was thrilled with your weight gain (more than a pound since your last visit) and said for us to “keep on keepin’ on” what we’re doing. Of course, I could’ve told him you’d gained weight — your little arm rolls and your awesome thighs and your adorable round belly are filling in nicely. You’re still in size 3 diapers but are now fitting into clothes sized 9 months to 12 months (your poppa and I went clothes shopping recently and picked up some nice new outfits for you).

Growing GirlThe first day of this month (day 274) was our third day without power thanks to the Great Power Outage of 2011. That Friday night we packed up and went to stay at your honorary grandparents’, Fran and Don’s, house nearby. You had a blast there, playing with their grandson Thomas and enjoying your first dip in a pool (day 275). We bought a little float just for the occasion, so you could sit in it while your poppa and I took turns pulling you through the water. The only downside to staying there was that it was hard for you to get to sleep since you were in a pack ‘n’ play and not your crib. Having your beloved seahorse there helped some, though. The upside — for me, at least — was that I finally got you to snuggle with me in bed; we spooned and slept together two mornings in a row (days 275 and 276). I loved every second of it, too. The power came back on that Saturday night, so your poppa went home to sleep so he could take care of the dogs. He picked us up the following morning and took us home, and we both noticed you seemed particularly happy to be playing with all of your toys in your play yard that day. You took turns playing with every single toy, something you rarely do. You also had a great welcome home nap in your crib.

Sleeping With Seahorse

Swim BabyYou’re quite the little explorer now and extremely determined when you want something. Whether it’s going after your poppa’s Blackberry (day 276), exploring every inch of your bedroom (day 278), climbing up onto the fireplace and on your play yard giraffe (day 279), or attacking your favorite books by your bedroom chair (day 286), you go after everything with gusto. By far your favorite new thing to do is walk, though. We bought you the Stride-to-Ride Dino (day 282), and just like that your cruising became full-on walking, with you proudly holding on to your dinosaur’s handles as you walked tippytoed across the basement floor. You’ve improved every single day, walking faster and further than the day before. You finally walked all the way across the basement with it the night your Auntie T was over (day 295); we think you were showing off for her. I have no doubt that soon you’ll figure out how to get out of corners and turn around on your own, instead of waiting for your poppa or I to help you out.

Blackberry Thief

Told you I'd get a picture of you rolling your tongue

Tippytoe WalkerYour sense of humor continues to develop, with you laughing back at people when they laugh, like you did with your Auntie T, and you finding things incredibly funny when you play with your toys at home or in the car. And one day, when I changed your diaper and let slip the word “poop,” you laughed your head off (day 279). I spent the next five minutes saying “poop” just to get you to laugh like that; I laughed so hard at your giggles I was almost crying. Of course, later when I tried to catch you laughing at the word on video, you played it cool. But I at least have that really fun memory (of the laughing, not the diaper that triggered it).

Dino RiderYou continue to try new foods, from little stuff like veggie Lil’ Crunchers (a win) and peach-flavored Puffs (day 278) — which you weren’t crazy about — to pizza crust (day 282), watermelon (day 283), oranges (day 291, courtesy of your abuelo), and mushrooms (day 303), all of which you liked. You’re fond of drinking water from water bottles, although we finally hit on a sippy cup you like and can use, one that has a straw. Now you enjoy chugging water after working up a thirst from zipping around with your dinosaur.

You have enjoyed being babysat with your cousin Stephen and visits with your grandparents. When you saw your grandparents on day 283, you kept holding your left arm up over your head. Turns out you were practicing, since you waved for the first time the very next day, to our friend’s mother-in-law. Your cousin Elliott used you as a human notepad (day 287), writing blue squiggles on your left arm, and then played sweetly with you the next day; that was also the day he held you around the neck when I asked him to hold you for a camera phone photo (he did much better when I asked him to hold you around the tummy for the next photo). The same day you wore a barrette for the first time was the day your cousin Elliott and his family moved to Alabama (day 289). I’m sure you miss each other, but it’ll be nice when you get to see each other again, hopefully soon.

Choked

Cousin HugYou proved once again what a good baby you are when your poppa and I took you car shopping (day 290). We spent more than five hours at the car dealership, and you didn’t fuss once. You finally passed out from exhaustion after about four hours, while I was holding you as we signed the last of the paperwork. Having played on a little slide and with a balloon for the first time helped keep you entertained during that very long afternoon, as did you and I exploring every inch of every car in the showroom. The salesman working with us even commented on what a mild-mannered, mellow baby you are. We were so proud of how well you behaved that day, especially since your poppa and I were on the verge of melting down, the process took so long.

With MommyIt’s hard to pick a favorite new behavior/milestone of yours. We love watching you dance, like the day you stopped mid-crawl to dance on all fours to your dinosaur’s music (day 292). And last night (day 302) your poppa saw you stand on your own for a few seconds on our bed; I saw you stand on your own for a few seconds tonight in your living room pack ‘n’ play. I can say with certainty it’s not your new habit of biting; I still have a tiny bruise on my upper-left arm where you got me the other day (day 300). I’m leaning toward your new habit of doling out kisses. You kissed me on the mouth three times in a row the other day (day 292), which made your poppa jealous (you later kissed him, too, and all was forgiven). I got another kiss from you the next morning when you kissed me right after you finished your breakfast bottle (later that day your new friend Tori was born; we’ll get to meet her in the near future). And now I get kisses from you almost — but not quite — every time I ask for one.

Kiss

Trying to get the hang of kissing

As I write this, you’re sleeping soundly in your crib despite a thunderstorm. We had a fun, exciting day today (day 303): We went to a friend’s birthday party where you went swimming for the second time. I didn’t go swimming, so it was just you and your poppa. You squealed with delight as he pulled you around, kicking your legs behind you and wearing a huge smile on your face. Everyone there agreed that you seem to be a water baby, so get ready for swimming lessons in a few years. Just don’t grow up on me too fast — month 11 and all its adventures will be here soon enough.

Cutelove,

Mommy

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Ode to an Xterra

Song Lyric of the Day:

Now I’m walkin’ in the moonlight / Seein’ nothin’ but the taillights / And that’s a pair of taillights / I may never see again

Clint Black / “Nothin’ But the Taillights

My maternal grandfather, my Abuelo Anselmo, died in March 2002. Once his estate was settled, Rich and I were fortunate enough to receive money that helped us buy a 2003 Nissan Xterra (along with my Altima as a trade-in). I named my Xterra Mo in honor of my grandfather, a man I’d only seen twice in my life, the last time being my wedding in April 2000. To say I became emotionally attached to Mo is an understatement. I LOVED that car. It sounds silly, but because we bought it with money from my grandfather’s estate, it felt like my grandfather was always with me. Mo had leather seats, the first Xterra with them to be sold in Virginia Beach. When we drove it off the lot, it had 7 miles on the odometer. I became what Rich called the Parking Lot Ninja, always looking for the best spot to park Mo, usually next to a curb or between much more expensive vehicles. I would spend up to four hours detailing it, leaving it looking as new as the day we bought it. It had a kickass Rockford Fosgate sound system with a 6-CD changer. It safely ferried us from Virginia to Tennessee and back again countless times before we moved back home. Our dogs Snoops, Caleb, Troubadour, and Happy all enjoyed rides in it; when Snoops died, I put a lock of her hair under the cargo mat — she loved, loved, loved riding back there. When the windshield got a tiny crack in it a few years ago, I cried. And when Rich and I made the decision recently that it was time to sell Mo for a more fuel-efficient car, I thought my heart would break. Rich lent me his shoulder to cry on, which I did. And he offered me some comfort when he said that in a way, my grandfather was helping us get a new vehicle, a sentiment my friend Nan also echoed. It’s so hard to express, but deciding to finally sell Mo made me feel like I was losing a friend, not to mention a tangible connection to my grandfather I could see and touch and be surrounded by every day.

Mo

Mo

But sell Mo we did this past Sunday. And thanks to my beloved Xterra, not only will Rich’s Tundra be paid off, but we now have a beautiful, fuel-efficient 2012 Hyundai Elantra. Whereas Mo got 17/20 MPG, the Elantra gets 29/40. And it’s got fantastic safety features, which is of the utmost importance to us now because of Coraline. Rich and I are getting used to all the bells and whistles of the Elantra, since Mo didn’t have that many. But now I can answer my phone via a button on the steering wheel (it’s Bluetooth enabled), there’s an iPod USB port, and a free three-month subscription to XM Radio. It’s also got much better pickup than I expected from a smaller engine (Mo had a V6), to the point that my foot maybe got a little heavy on the pedal the other day, prompting Rich to remind me “Baby in the car, baby in the car, baby in the car!”

Little Mo

Little Mo

I know I’ll forever miss Mo, but we already love the Elantra and know it’s going to be a great car for us for a very, very long time (you can’t beat Hyundai’s warranty). We look forward to driving it to Iowa later this summer to visit Rich’s family, since now that we have a truly fuel-efficient vehicle we don’t have to plan on renting a car anymore.

Still, the Elantra has some big wheels to fill, as it were. I like to think Abuelo Anselmo would approve of our choice. And, yes, I have already named my new car. Its name is Little Mo.

Side by side

Side by side

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