Monthly Archives: July 2006

Just let me do everything ever, then I’ll be with you

I realize that every day, I set Hayden down to play while I run around to do my own stuff (laundry, blogging, work, cleaning, etc.). It seems like one of my most-oft repeated phrases is, “Okay, I’m just gonna do (a list of six things), and then I’ll play with you.” Can an almost-6-month-old feel alienated? Could I be scarring my baby for life?

Two things I’m usually good about not putting off: eating and naps. I’ve been known to delay bedtime to socialize with friends and family, but Baby’s gotta eat and get naps.

I just feel like I need to be better at enjoying my baby while he’s awake. A possible sign of change for the better: lately, I miss him when he’s gone for naps.

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Are you a domestic goddess?

I thought of myself as a domestic goddess the other day. Then I asked myself, what does it mean to be a domestic goddess?

This iVillage quiz actually tells you which domestic Greek goddess you are. I’m 45.5% Hestia (kind, open, nurturing, taking care of people, feeding them), 27.3% Penelope (technically not a goddess—creative, crafty, trying new things) and 27.3% Hera (extremely jealous—no, wait, practical, multitasking, low-maintenance style). Other options, where I scored a big ol’ 0, were Kuan Yin (obviously not Greek)(compassion, understanding), Athena (order, efficiency, perfection), Artemis (free spirit, unconventional) and Aphrodite (bedroom, garden).

But what *is* a domestic goddess? I’ve known women to describe themselves as such before, like the woman who sewed my wedding dress. Excellent job, at that. Nigella Lawson has a book named How to be a Domestic Goddess. Her take involves making comfort food. Mmm.

But there’s gotta be a difference between simply being domestic (although nobody wants to adopt that label, since it seems demeaning) and being a domestic goddess. I think the iVillage quiz has hit on something essential: there are many, many areas of domestic goddessness. I think these are the basic areas:

  • Home decorating (an attractive, put-together house)
  • Home maintenance (cleanliness, not repair)
  • Handy handiwork (functional stuff—sewing, knitting, quilting, etc.)
  • Handsome handiwork (decorative stuff—painting, pottery, needlepoint, quilting, etc.)
  • Home cookin’ (None of that Semi-Homemade crap. I’m kidding, but I do think Sandra Lee consumes a worrisome amount of alcohol.)
  • Home bakin’ (not the same as above)
  • Hosting (show people a good time, feed ’em good and get them having fun)

I’m not 100% sure what to call it, but it seems like there should be a category for child-rearing and other nurturing and possibly general healthfulness. Sorry, no categories for working—it’s just not domestic.

Have you got what it takes to make it in the domestic goddess world? That’s right—eight arms.

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But I mean that in a kind, loving way

My sister and I looked at some pictures of an old friend of mine. She was like, “In some of these, he looks a little . . . dorky.”

“He is dorky,” I replied matter-of-factly. And then I remembered: some people think “dork” and “dorky” are mean words. I do not. To me, those words don’t mean the same thing as geek/geeky or nerd/nerdy.

Before Ryan and I even started dating, we were talking my roommate at the time, Sarah. Ryan revealed that he hadn’t really dated in high school, aside from proms and the like. Sarah and I were delighted to discover that, as we immediately exclaimed, “You were a dork!” That was actually one of the first things that endeared him to me.

So dorkiness is definitely not a bad thing—which is good news for Hayden. Hayden judging from his genes, will come by it honest. Yeah, that’s me in the picture.

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Cool dude, pool dude

Today was the long-awaited day: Hayden’s first trip to the pool. We went with my sister-in-law Stacy, niece Skye, and friends Lindsey (Mama) and Sadie (Baby).

Daddy helped to get Hayden’s sunscreen on. I got Hayden these sunglasses today. He’s okay about them, but I’m not sure we’ll keep them.

I also got the swimmin’ suit/swim diaper today as well as the crab bath toy/washcloth beside him. Hayden wasn’t very interested in the crab, but Sadie loved it.

Us in the pool about 10 seconds before I took his sunglasses off.

He wasn’t overly thrilled with the pool—even a little upset and scared at the beginning. It took him a long time to feel comfortable in the water. He was pretty tired, but I think it went okay. He really liked his nice warm bath that night, though. Maybe I should bring his baby tub with us to the pool next time.

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No thanks, I’m all set (for now)

The other day I was doing laundry and I finally remembered that one of Hayden’s baby outfits had fallen between the washing machine and the wall. After a little effort, I extracted the sleeper from its trap and tossed it in the wash with the rest of his clothes.

Once they were clean, I folded them (duh). As I was folding the little outfit, I noticed how small it was. It’s hard to believe my little guy was such a teeny tiny guy! I can barely remember it, but he was quite teeny tiny. See how small his face was compared to my hand?

When Hayden was so teeny tiny and every day it seemed like motherhood would kill me, that was my theory about why people had more children: because they’re so cute and tiny and seeing a small one when you’ve got a big one makes you all nostalgic and baby-hungry.

Now, though, I’m starting to change my mind. We’re finally moving into an easier phase of babyhood and I’m falling more and more in love with my little guy every day. I can finally think about the possibility of having another without questioning my sanity.

Then again, maybe that’s all the more reason to doubt my mental health.

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A ton of pasta

Actually it’s closer to two tons. Ryan went to an auction for work and bid on what he thought was one pallet of orecchiette pasta. He won it for $100. A pretty good deal. We thought we’d be set on pasta for a while.

“A while” was right. Ryan went to claim the lot this week. It wasn’t one pallet—it was eight. We are now the proud owners of 3500 pounds of pasta. So you don’t have to do the math, that’s less than 3ยข per pound.

(Incidentally, it wasn’t all orecchiette. The lot included some small shells, too. Those crazy auctioneers.)

Pasta, anyone?

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