Made in Richmond

(Perhaps “Wah” would have been a more appropriate title.)

I hate vacuuming.

I would much rather clean a disgusting, poop-crusted bathroom than vacuum.

This presents a problem because 1) Ross also hates vacuuming and 2) we have two huge dogs who shed tumbleweeds of fur year-round.

I’ve always said to Ross that if anything ever causes us to get a divorce, it will be vacuuming (That and how he never locks the doors. Ever. In fact, that won’t cause us to get divorced. Instead I’ll be murdered one day by a crazy, sick lunatic who has wandered into our house because SOMEONE didn’t lock the door, leaving Ross a widower).

Anyway.

When it came time for Ross’s mom to ask us what we wanted for Christmas, he made a very specific request with an added note: If you get us this, it will save our marriage.

How could anyone refuse that?

So, on Christmas Eve, Ross and I received something that made our dreams come true. Because not only does it vacuum for us, it’s basically a robot.

Yes. We have a Roomba.

She (because she’s obviously a she) lives under the chest in our living room and comes out to clean the floors after we’ve gone upstairs for the evening.

There’s only one problem. Roomba might actually be the end to our marriage. Because I’m swiftly falling in love with her.

Yeah, that’s right. I Elfed my child. And I’m not the least bit ashamed.

As you may remember, 2008 was the year of selling and buying a house, switching jobs, and having a baby.

2009 turned out the be the year of “oh my hell, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

So, 2010, I’ve got big hopes for you.

I don’t like to set resolutions because as one who fears failure (probably more than I fear death because no one will be disappointed in you if you’re dead — it’s not allowed), I’d be too upset with myself when one inevitably falls through the cracks.

I’ve opted for outlining some suggestions for myself instead. You know, things that would be great if I did, but, hey, no pressure. And they aren’t all self-improvement… some could be classified more like “enjoyment.” Here they be:

Drink more water. Yes, generic. But doable and not at all intimidating. And seriously, guys, I drink way more Diet Coke than is necessary.

Watch more You Tube footage of Freddie Mercury. Because nothing puts me in a better mood.

Invest more in skin care products. I know this seems silly, but I’m almost 30. I think it’s about time I say goodbye to the cheap stuff. My skin isn’t so forgiving anymore.

Let go of some grudges. Some.

Read 1984. Yes, I have never read it. Ross shares in your incredulity.

Use the word “spry” more frequently.

See more movies in the theater.

Get JR involved with some kind of consistent playgroup to help him with the socializing.

Finally start watching Mad Men.

Set aside one Saturday a month to sleep in as late as I want/can.

Ok, now you…

JR,

So, it looks like these monthly letters are going to continue after all. I’m keeping at it because 1) you’re already a totally different kid than you were a month ago and 2) I just can’t bring myself to climb up to the loft and dig out your baby book. Mother of the Year over here.

You’re still a hoss. At your 1-year checkup you weighed in at almost 25 pounds. I’m seriously looking into starting physical therapy because you are killing my back.

While you were at your checkup, your doctor commented on how verbal and… LOUD you are. I never notice this until you’re around other kids. And not only are you loud – you have a really deep voice for a toddler. At least, you do when you’re babbling to yourself. When the time comes for you to repeat words, say “bye bye,” or pretend to read to yourself, you use a high-pitched voice.

You’re still not walking yet – just a few steps here and there. But you will walk towards things that are not me these days. I think it’s finally starting to click that walking is just faster than crawling. I’m guessing you’ll be off and running by mid-January.

Now, while you’re not walking, you are climbing. Stairs, specifically. This? It might kill me.

Just last Thursday I decided that we would make a concentrated effort to have you walk pretty much wherever you go. And I thought, “Well, why not help him walk up the stairs?” You caught on immediately, lifting your foot WAAAAAY up, feeling around for each step. You had so much fun.

The very next afternoon, I was cleaning up the kitchen while you were playing in the living room. Suddenly things got quiet. I quickly headed into the living room and you were nowhere to be found. I looked to my left and found you HALFWAY UP THE STAIRS. And then I died.

Ok, I didn’t really die. But I might have cried a little bit because I had visions of you tipping backwards and cracking your head open.

Once I collected myself, I brought you back down the stairs so you could show me how you’d gotten up there. You immediately started to make your way back up. But OF COURSE you don’t use the usual “put your weight on your knees, crawling” approach. No, no, you prefer to climb up like a monkey, swinging your foot up on the stair, and precariously heaving yourself up. It’s horribly unstable and terrifying, but also exciting because Look! My baby can climb!

(Oh, dear Lord, help us.)

You had a lovely language burst this month. You know where your belly, hair, and nose (sometimes) are, and you continue to mimic beginning sounds. A couple weeks ago, you suddenly understood how to sign for “more” (ok, you do it a little differently – SHOCKER) and you use it freely. Last week we taught you the sign for milk, and you picked it up immediately. You seem very excited about being able to express what you want and need.

You spend much of your day puttering around, pausing, and saying “dada?” Your dad insists that you’re not talking about him, but you seem to only do it when you’re around something that you know belongs to him (things like his coat or bike). Still no “mama” yet, and I’m not gonna lie – it hurts a bit. But your dad says you don’t need a word for me; I’m your everything, so there’s no need for a label.

Back atcha, kid.

Love,
Mama

• Almost all of JR’s Christmas ornaments from last year are inscribed with “Jack.” We switched to calling him JR about month after he was born, but apparently our friends and family (ok, even us) had already jumped at the chance to get the Baby’s First Christmas ornaments.
• I’m not thrilled with doctors right now (except for JR’s pediatrician… and really, it’s not just because he reads this. Hi, Dr. Iwashyna!). I had to go to a specialist this month (after waiting for 6 weeks to see the specialist, I might add). When I got to his office, he talked to me for all of 3 minutes before saying that there really wasn’t much he could do for me. Then my primary care doctor got in touch with me saying that test results had come back and he most certainly could do something for me. So I wasted $50 and 2 hours (really 6 weeks and 2 hours) of my time for nothing.
• I finally finished our Christmas shopping today. I feel like we should be carrying a “This Christmas Brought To You By Amazon” banner with us to every holiday celebration this year. Oh, Amazon, I love you and your lightning-quick shipping habits.
• Ok, so I understand that 19 kids is a lot, but is it really necessary/the time to post comments like “this is a sign from God that you should get your tubes tied” on articles about the Duggars’ baby girl being born so early?
• Ross and I are watching LOST from the beginning. Dudes, season 1 of that show is SO GOOD. But really, Sawyer, I can’t take you seriously with those dimples.
• We took JR to see the lights at Lewis Ginter tonight. I dare say, it was quite magical.
• While I sometimes miss short hair, my current length makes it much less obvious when I haven’t made it to the shower.

This evening, I was breaking up an apple slice to give JR as a snack. As I was snapping one in half, part of it slipped out of my hand and hit him in the face. He found it hilarious.

And because I’m a baby-laughter-whore (odd way of putting it, I know), I started tossing pieces of apple at him. He found it ESPECIALLY funny when they landed on his hair or his cheeks.

A few minutes later, JR picked up a piece of apple and threw directly at me.

I didn’t laugh. And realized that our days of an unresponsive blob of cute are over.

Now I have to like start being a role model and stuff. Wuhn wuhn wuhn.

As I mentioned last week, Jennifer and James (our dear friends and JR’s godparents) finally welcomed their little boy into the world on November 30th.

Despite camping out at the hospital while Jennifer was in labor (for, oh, 70 thousand hours – she’s a champ, that one) we ended up not actually meeting Jack until the following Thursday. That’s right. We got the name, we got the weight, and headed home so the grandparents could love on the newly birthed Jack Charles. That, and it was 3:30am and our own child would be arriving back at our house, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, in just four hours.

Anyway, Thursday ended up being a very special day because not only did we get to meet Jack, JR did, too. Here are some pictures of the new buds getting acquainted.

Yes, that is my GIANT! child wielding a baseball bat (Go Phillies!) in the vicinity of a newborn. There was much gasping and flailing on my part.

Here we have me (and my big chin) looking lovingly at the small child while JR does his best impression of a perpetual motion machine.

Soon after the last picture was taken, James put JR on a rocking horse which was a big hit.

Then JR threw up all over their floor.

Welcome to the world, Jack!

Our new(ish) movie theater does this awesome thing on Saturdays and Sundays called “Movies and Mimosas.” You show up, have a little drinky-drink, and then head into the theater to watch a classic film.

This weekend’s movie was “White Christmas” (snow, snow, snow, snoooooooow!) so some Twitter friends (shut up) and I headed out to see it.

Turns out we weren’t the only ones in town who had that idea, as the theater was packed by the time we got there. Consequently, our only seating option was in the second row.

All was fine and dandy throughout most of the movie, but by the time I came home, I was in so much pain I fully expected my brains to start leaking out of my ears.

At first I thought it was the champagne. I don’t drink much and figured the alcohol had gotten to me. But even after large glasses of water, a healthy dose of Advil, and some greasy food, nothing was helping.

I finally went upstairs, closed the blinds, covered my head with the blanket and a pillow. I got up at one point the throw up because it hurt so bad. Once I got back in bed and stayed still for about 45 minutes, everything was fine again.

Anyone ever go through something like this? Was I just drunk and didn’t know it? Or was it the sitting too close to the screen thing, like I think? If so, Ross will be so excited because this further confirms his feelings that one must arrive at the movie theater a full hour before the film starts.