14 Months Old

RTR is 14 months old today. Here are a few fun facts:

*I am edging closer to walking all by myself, in fact taking a few steps here and there this evening.

*Besides fruit (see previous Fruitetarian post), my new favorite food is Cheetos cheese puffs. My great-grandma, who is visiting us this week, is so kind to hand me a couple whenever I point to the bag.

*I am learning to appreciate the nuances of "Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear," taking more time to enjoy ALL of the pages of the book.

*I'm getting use to taking baths in the big bathtub, so maybe my mom can try and sell the baby one on craigslist.

*I've been saying a few words, but since neither of my parents speaks my language, they don't know exactly what I'm saying. My mom thinks it might be French, since I'm really good at that ZH sound the Frenchies use for the J sound. Still not that into baby sign language, despite months of being shown "More," "Milk," and "All Done."

Hey Grams

Another change of pace in our household-- my 99 year old grandma is visiting. She's been here only a couple of days but already it's been great. CSR has taking to calling her Grams, as in "Hey Grams, look out your window to see the fountain." We'd taken her for a little drive down to the ferry dock in Edmonds. I think it's a cute pet name he's come up with. He also calls her 'Cullough, a sort of abbreviated version of her last name.

She's hard of hearing so that means The Price is Right at top volume. When CSR realized she had dozed off, he turned off the tv. That made me smile, thinking that he DOES have a limit when it comes to tv-- since his parents limit screen time during the day. Last night, Grams said "CSR, you tickle me." He was being a cut-up, acting silly while playing restaurant and trying to take her order from the menu he had made. For some reason, he'd just burst into giggles whenever she read one of his drink items-- "Pooch juice," whatever that is.

He's very sweet to her, wanting to help her for the most part. Refilling her water glass, pulling her chair out for her at the dining room table. Here's to a few more days of fun times with Grams.

Smitty

A sad day for me... my cat died. It wasn't sudden. Smitty was an old cat-- estimated to be around 16 or 17 years old. But still, we've been together a long time. I rescued him from the Idaho Humane Society back in 1995. He was "Pet of the Week" on the 5pm newscast I produced. On the set, he was such a mellow, docile cat...hiding his face in the anchor's arm, I thought what a sweet cat. That was on Friday. On Sunday I decided to see if he was still at the pound. My first clue should have been that the pound didn't have a very clear history on him... his kennel card only saying that he'd been adopted out but then returned after just a day. I brought him home to my apartment, where he promptly climbed to the top of the kitchen cabinets. When I tried to give him the medicine the shelter gave me, it was quite the battle. My neighbors scoffed at my fearfulness of the cat and the way he seemed to stalk me. They had three cats themselves. But they changed their minds after taking care of him when I had to go out of town.

Oh Smitty. He had quite the reputation. I could get friends to cat sit for him-- once. No one would do it a second time. When we made the journey from Boise to Seattle 11 years ago, he meowed (howled) nearly the whole way and that included going the long way through Portland.

He broke a lot of stuff-- pushing glasses, dishes, miscellaneous items off of tables and shelves. He liked being petted, but only for so long before lashing out to nip at you when he'd had enough. There was the time we suspect he ate the fish from the fish tank that Tyler had put in a bowl while he cleaned the tank. Smitty would go crazy for the water from tuna and canned chicken cans. Although when he got older he would promptly vomit up the water, making us impose a ban on that treat.

He wasn't fond of children, despite living with two of them. Like many children, ours were very intrigued and curious about this furry little creature who roamed about the house at will, could escape through a curious little door in the hall and would bite or nip with very little warning. CSR learned his cat manners early on, RTR was still learning. One sign that the end was near for Smitty was his lower tolerance for letting baby fingers "pat" him or give his fur a tug.

We knew the end was coming for several months-- changes in his activity level, weight, eating habits-- but it still catches you by surprise. On Sunday, we realized it was very close. I was alarmed when I came home to find him in the front yard, very still. Later on, he was among the ferns on the shady side of the house. I picked him up at one point and couldn't believe how light he was-- this one time nearly 20 pound cat, now so feathery light. He had stopped eating and drinking. By Monday, he just would move from place to place and meow softly, not in his usual "voice." I worried he was in pain and suffering. What to do? Let nature take its course? What would that look like? Would it be messy? Would it be alarming to me, to our five year old son?

I found it's a delicate balance between sensitivity and practicality. Euthanasia at our local vet's office would run $100-$200. Going to the county shelter involved driving to Kent and a much smaller fee. But still driving to Kent and back. I'm lucky to have such a terrific husband. Tyler said he would handle it, getting off work early and taking Smitty wherever I decided. As for how it would all end... I got off easy I guess. We came home from running errands this afternoon, and Smitty was gone. His body on the baby's bedroom floor. Since Tyler was home, he was able to take him without the kids knowing what was going on. I told CSR that Papa was going to help Smitty. That the cat was old and that his body didn't work very well, that he was dying and wouldn't be here anymore. CSR said he would miss Smitty and that Smitty would miss us. I told him that I was sad, that I had Smitty for a long time, even before I moved to Seattle. He also suggested we could get another cat or maybe a dog to cheer us up. He was a cat with a lot of character, known far and wide for his temperament and antics. While frustrated by the way he would relentlessly jump onto the table in search of tasty remnants of a meal, he was very special to me. I come to the end of this, with tears and a sloppy runny nose, saddened by the loss and surprised by it too.

Diaper Duty

We're on a new kind of diaper duty in our house-- making the switch to cloth. Or at least trying to. Who knew you needed so much gear for cloth diapering-- the cloth diapers (at least 2 dozen), diaper covers, liner/wet bag for the diaper pail, stuffers/liners for the diapers, additional laundry supplies-- baking soda, white vinegar. I'm sure I'm forgetting at least one thing if not more. The first day went pretty smoothly. It's the ones following that made me realize that this may be a little harder than I thought. I also think I bought the wrong size prefolds. Who knew they came in different sizes? The ones I have don't quite reach all the way from front to back if I fold them according to the diagram I had to print out showing how to fold the dang things. The fleece liners also appear to irritate RTR's bum, so those are out of rotation. I also read somewhere you can't use regular diaper cream for irritation because it could ruin the diaper's absorbancy.

I checked out a web site called Diaper Swappers thinking I could find some of the gear we're lacking. Instead, it's overwhelming with a bunch of abbreviations I don't understand and don't have the patience to look up the meanings. Talk about a sub-culture. Also, RTR's mainly fruit diet (see the Fruitetarian post), makes for tricky diaper changes when it comes to that #2 business. Then there's the lame person on Craigslist who told me the diaper covers I was interested in were sold, but still appear on the repost. And when I took off on Sunday leaving the boys with their dad, some of my parting advice, if you get befuddled on the diapers, the disposables are in the bottom dresser drawer. Proudly, it looks like Papa was on the cloth bandwagon-- even doing some laundry while I was gone (even if he used too much bleach).

A Craigslist Kind of Weekend

Adding to the garage purge, putting a few items on craigslist. Out of the four baby things I listed on Thursday-- a backpack, bouncer seat, Bjorn and Boppy-- two of them were down the road by Sunday. Someone drove all the way from Auburn for the baby backpack and paid the asking price-- a little more than what I originally paid for it at a yard sale several years ago. Another person took the bouncer seat. So not too shabby. However, I did buy some cloth diapers from a craigslist ad on Friday night. But with my two sales, I came out nine dollars ahead.

The Big Garage Purge

Nothing can give you a sense of accomplishment like cleaning out the garage. Ours had gotten out of control, down to just one little path from the big door to the door into the house. But that changed on Sunday. We hauled all the clutter out into the driveway and started sorting and putting things in their place. It was gratifying to see the "Give Away" pile grow. To give you an idea just how much stuff we had piled up, while I was inside making lunch or something, a woman walking by came up and started going through our stuff. When T. asked her if he could help her, she said, "Oh... this isn't a yard sale?" We did have our cars parked in the driveway, so it wasn't like we were set up in yard sale style. By the afternoon, we had a car load--everything from baby toys and souvenir coffee mugs to the slip from my wedding dress-- to take to Goodwill. It felt really good to unload it and drive home to a clean, somewhat better organized garage. Now if only I can get at least one of the two non-running motorcycles out of there!

In A Jam

This afternoon after we got home from a trip to the zoo, CSR wanted a snack. Since I didn't have the energy to cater to his whims, I suggested he could make a snack we'd just read about. We've been reading "Henry Huggins" by Beverly Cleary-- a big kids kind of chapter book. In one chapter, Henry comes home from school and makes himself a snack-- graham crackers with peanut butter, jam and pickle relish. CSR was up for it, getting out all the ingredients plus the bottle of maple syrup. Using a butter knife (a shiny knife as CSR calls it), he fixed up two graham cracker sandwiches. After refusing the bite he offered me, CSR promptly ate them all up. I'm sure the sugary syrup made it that much more delicious.

I didn't think much about the concoction until later-- when I got my own snack after dinner. I scooped up a bowl of Tillamook Vanilla Bean and added a couple dollups of the strawberry jam I had made yesterday. As I ate my strawberry sundae, I realized there was more to the topping than just strawberries. There were also flecks of pickle relish. I guess that's what I get for letting a 5 year old make his own snack. It was also my idea, so I only have myself to blame for the strawberry-pickle relish jam. Luckily it's a small jar and probably won't last long. Maybe it will be good on waffles in the morning.

These Boots Were Made for Walking

Okay, they're not really boots, but still I thought a catchy line for the subject-- RTR's first real shoes (Robeez don't count). I put grandma's birthday shoe money in my pocket, loaded up the boys and headed to Nordstrom. My friend Julie says getting the first pair of real shoes at Nordy's is a tradition in her family. I figured I would see what they have and also scope out the Stride-Rite store in the mall. Got to the kids' shoe department and was overwhelmed by the selection. I didn't realize you could spend $70 on baby shoes-- but there was at least one pair at that price. Grandma didn't send THAT much money. Plus, anyone who knows me, knows my sensible (frugal?!?) ways would never let me spend that much on baby shoes. After telling the young salesman what we were after, he measured, or tried to measure RTR's feet. RTR isn't too keen on putting his feet on those cold metal foot scales. After a couple of tries, it was time to break out the plastic one. A size 3. The man went to the back and came back with all the size 3s in stock-- about six pairs. Funny thing about baby feet, or at least RTR's, they don't slide easily into shoes. With a couple of the pairs, his right foot was really hard to put in the shoe. I figured if the shoe was this hard to put on in the store, how would it be at home? After trying all the shoes, which were all cute-- or as cute as shoes for boys can be-- we ended up buying the first pair we tried on. The salesman was really nice. At first glance, he didn't seem to be the kids shoe salesperson type. But anyway, adding to our own little family milestone of the first shoes, Nordstrom also marks the event by taking a Polaroid picture (not the most flattering of pictures) and giving a "Nordy" doll (a plush little creature with a funny shape).

My bargain-hunting ways made me stop in the Stride-Rite store just to see if I got a good deal. And I'm happy to report, they didn't have anything better at a better price! Now, if only RTR would start walking. He's getting braver, standing up for longer and longer periods, but no great strides--YET!

Hello, I'm a Fruitetarian

I think I'm inadvertently raising a fruitetarian (someone who subsists on a fruit based diet). If you want to make RTR happy at mealtime, throw some fruit on his high chair tray. He is especially partial to strawberries. While I'm putting groceries in the fridge, if he spots strawberries in there, he makes a serious bee-line for them. He figured out how to step up on the inside of the base of the refrigerator to reach the shelves to pull out the berry container. If he sees that I've got the berries out, he will make all these noises-- grunts, squeals, whatever it takes to get those berries in his belly! At a recent lunchtime picnic at the park, he was climbing all over me and the lunch stuff, clawing his way into the cooler to get at the bowl of strawberries inside. Of course, we're now contending with a bit of a problem as he doesn't seem to want to eat any veggies, pasta or meat. Or at least I haven't found the right combination to appeal to him lately. Unless of course, it's what the rest of us are having at the table after RTR has been cleaned up and taken out of the high chair (he seems to be ready to eat a half an hour before I've got dinner ready for everyone). RTR is also a fiend for yogurt (with fruit of course). The latest favorite snack is graham crackers dipped in yogurt. He cracks me up the way he'll point out in his own way that he's run out of crackers for the remaining yogurt. Again, probably my own fault for introducing this to him. So much for a balanced diet. I wonder if he'd go for chicken with strawberries on top? Maybe grilled peaches and steak?

Small Town 4th of July

Nothing like spending the 4th of July in a small town. This is what the holiday looks like in Crouch, Idaho. (Click on pictures for a larger view)


People gather along the main street (Main Street?) with their personal fireworks arsenals to help celebrate Independence Day. In the crowd pictures, those tall things with the light posts are the gas pumps at the town store. Apparently, the red spray paint warning "No fireworks within 30 feet" on the concrete is just a suggestion.

20 Years Ago...

It's hard to believe that it's been 20 years since high school graduation. The proof came last weekend when our fellow classmates from Borah High School gathered to mark the milestone. I have been tracking the event planning and classmates' whereabouts through the Class Reports web site. I was like a stalker, always checking to see who updated their profile, who was among the missing and what those listed as found were up to. I was excited to see old friends-- both those who've recently reconnected as well as those whom I haven't seen since leaving high school. No anxiety or nerves leading up to it all.

My high school years were good, but I feel like things are so great now-- I am so blessed with what I have and what I've accomplished. Not to mention, I am a size smaller that I was in high school. Anyway, Friday night, a bunch of us met up at a restaurant before the big event. It was a good time to catch up, see people and break the ice. BUT when it actually came time to walk in to the actual event, there was a little nervousness. I was glad to see I wasn't the only one who took a minute before heading in the door. Once inside, I saw some familiar faces instantly and felt better.

But I still felt like I jumped into the deep end of the pool or something. I wanted to find Ann, the only person I still know who I met in the 8th grade. On the phone, I joked saying we couldn't talk to each other at the reunion because we talk all the time. After treading water a bit and chatting with Ann, I felt better and got down to mingling. It was pretty amazing to see people and recognize them instantly-- some not changing too much over the years, while there were a few stumpers-- people I did not remember or recognize. There was the shock of seeing Julie, my best friend in junior high. After getting our driver's licenses at the tender age of 14, she and I spent two weeks terrorizing the small town of Shoshone cruising in her dad's old 1970's Lincoln. There was one guy who insisted he remembered me, saying how smart I was and how I was competing with this other guy to be valedictorian (definitely NOT me). There were a few people who worked with my mom and asked about her. There were a couple of guys I dated who definitely changed-- one of them spending the last four years meditating in India. A lot of bald heads-- by choice or because of nature? Anyway, glad I went, glad I got to talk to all the classmates I did and wish I had talked to a few more. Maybe in five more years?

Back to the Beginning

I should have written about this last month... when CSR's preschool got out for the summer. It was the last day of school but the usual rush to get out the door and to school on time-- eat, get dressed, blah, blah, blah. As I got breakfast into RTR and both him and myself dressed, CSR (who's still wearing pajamas) announces he doesn't want to go to school. I tell him we're going and hand him clothes to put on. In my mind, I thought after all these months, we're back to square one... the first days (weeks actually) of school, where it was a daily battle to get CSR dressed and out the door. There were a few times where he even wore pajamas to school because I wasn't going to wait. But imagine my surprise when I come out of the baby's bedroom ready for CSR to still be in pj's and he's completely dressed. He's still saying that he doesn't want to go to school, but he walks out to the car, gets in and off we go. There was no big end of the year send off or preschool graduation ceremony, but CSR did get a chance to say goodbye to his teachers after class.



They're all special, but Teacher Donna will have a special place in our hearts. She was CSR's buddy at the beginning of the year when this drop off preschool was a big step.