The Plan

99 degrees. Spring? Really? This is August weather, LA, come on, now. May needs fog and cool mornings and long-sleeved shirts for pajamas.

However, I have been waiting for some hot, dry weather to finish painting the pantry shelves, so here we go. I can certainly finish that today and perhaps finish (ahem ... Start) sorting baby clothes once it's too hot to be outside. Here's hoping for some stellar naps from baby girl today.

The rest of the week I'll be moving artwork, putting finishing touches on baby closet organization, perhaps starting in on my own closet disaster, and, once it's cool enough to open the windows during the day, put a couple more coats of paint on kitchen cabinets and drawers. Oh, wouldn't it be loverly to finish putting my kitchen back together this week?

Speaking of musicals, yesterday I was inspires to sing "The Sound of Music" as a celebration of my daughter's first "bagged" peak! I have no idea what mountain it even was, and have no photo evidence since we left the camera in the car, but it was very exciting. The top of this particular mountain was pretty magical in the sparkly fairy dust sense. The rocks up at the top were full of mica which glinted and sparkled every time we moved. And we found the top of this mountain not because we intended to bag a peak, but because we couldn't for the life of us find the Pacific Crest Trail. No one else found it either, apparently, as we spotted numerous parties of hikers and backpackers wandering aimlessly among the picnic tables and along the highway in search of the elusive trail. I'm thinking maybe they could use some better signage.

Anyway, here's to another week closer to my goal of having my whole house organized. I'm already hatching plans for reorganizing the living room again, though, so this may be an ongoing and never-ending project. Blame it on the Crazy.

For Mom

Yesterday I opened the door to see a funny little lady, long, black, curly hair escaping rebelliously from under her too-small baseball cap, sheet of paper with no clipboard in one hand and a pitcher full of flowers in the other. "Are you Patritha?" she lisped. I barely avoided lisping back a "Yeth," and instead opted for "I am." "Well, thethe are for you!" she exclaimed, and handed me the flowers and the clipboard-less paper, which was full of names and addresses. My name was there but the address line was blank. I asked her if she needed my address, she told me "Jutht thign right there." Now I don't know if you've mastered the Jedi-like skill of doing anything and everything while holding a baby, but signing a clipboard-less paper with one hand seems an impossible task. I somehow managed to use my baby-holding hand as a hard surface and scribbled something totally illegible.

The flowers are gorgeous. The card was, as I expected, from my Mom. My first Mother's Day flowers! My first thought was "Oh crap. I haven't ordered anything for my mom yet," which was followed quickly by "Man, my mom is so awesome!"

And she really is.

My mom has made so many sacrifices for us. When we were itty bitty, she stayed home with us and cloth-diapered, cooked everything from scratch (including spaghetti noodles!), learned from the neighbors how to make tortillas and sopapillas, only let us watch Sesame Street, and taught us to love and respect everyone and everything, especially our books. After she and Dad divorced, she started attending night school to become a nurse. She worked the 7p to 7a shift at hospitals for years so we could have clothes and food and a home. 

Growing up, I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. When I was in middle school, she came to school once to drop off a book or something, and all my friends thought she was my sister. I have very few memories of her ever losing her patience with us, and the one time I remember her spanking me, she was so gentle that it didn't even hurt. Despite the divorce and the circumstances surrounding it, she never spoke one negative word about my Dad in front of us. It wasn't until I was 21 and rather angry with her about getting divorced that she told me why. That had to be so hard for her, especially because we kind of idolized our absent parent. She defended us whenever we suffered any genuine injustice, but somehow she knew when we were (or rather when I was ... I don't think my sister ever told a fib in her life) exaggerating and wouldn't put up with my storytelling.

My mom has been through so much emotional turmoil in her life, and has made a lot of mistakes (who hasn't?). But she is my hero, my best friend, my advocate, and my mentor.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

May Flowers

Well, it's May 9 already and I never even posted my goals for April! April was very busy around here, and included a couple of weeks of painting the kitchen, which is still ongoing since my mom came to visit before we were really finished, and it's been raining and humid since she left. I will dedicate a post to the kitchen when it's all finished.

So my goals for May are not really new or exciting, just finishing a bunch of projects that I've already started.

Painting needs to be done as soon as it gets warm and dry again, which, according to NOAA should be Sunday. Yay, painting on Mother's Day! But, as my husband so generously states, "Every day is Mother's Day." Aww, how sweet, right? Or it's a lame excuse to not buy me cake and chocolate and flowers. Yeah, I'm on to you, buddy. And just to be passive aggressive, I'm going to go ALL OUT for Father's Day this year. ALL.OUT.

Tangent over. As you were.

Next, my daughter's closet, which was so meticulously organized before she was born, is now full of unsorted piles of too-small baby clothes, which I of course am saving for friends who are expecting since we're pretty sure we're done having kids. And by We, I of course mean He. I'm not sure I'll ever be done, but I'm working on being okay with one. For now. Anyway, those clothes have two empty giant purple bins in the garage waiting for them and that's my next task. I may even get to that today ... We shall see.

I also need to move around some artwork in Karlina's room since I sort of rearranged a few things yesterday. That shouldn't take long.

Moving on to our bedroom, MY side of the closet has been in an embarrassing state since we re-wired a year ... and a half ago. Yes, my closet has been a disaster for eighteen months. There, I said it. There are books, clothes, shoes, musical instruments, toys, gifts for my nephews which I forgot to give them and are now too small, cards and letters from my old job, office supplies, and, oh yes, more clothes. So many clothes I could dress a high school marching band. An all-female high school marching band, but a high school marching band nevertheless. My husband undertook to clean his side of the closet one morning a few weeks ago. He finished in an hour. He saw me later that day looking for recipe ideas and thought I was looking for something to DO. He told me to clean my side of the closet. During Karlina's nap time. Which is an hour and a half, max. Oh, you poor, silly man. You really expect me and my Crazy to finish cleaning, purging, and organizing eighteen months worth of STUFF in an hour and a half? Oh no, darling, this will be at least a three-day job. If not a week. Maybe two. It's really bad in there ...

Then of course I'd like to rearrange our room a bit to make it flow more nicely. For instance, having our dressers next to the bed instead of facing off in opposite corners. Maybe some nice, soft curtains, or a homemade headboard. Artwork? Sure, why not! It sure is nice to dream, isn't it?

Then the bathroom. I'm not too worried about it except the walls and ceiling could use a good wipe-down. We also have a brand new (almost two years old?) lovely skylight which is giving us an amazing view of ... the attic. That needs to be connected to the lovely skylight in the roof, but that's a Honeydo for my Honey Bear and, as we ladies know but tend to ignore at times, nagging doesn't get us anywhere. All I can do is calmly ask him if he plans to do anything about it this weekend. As I have been calmly asking every weekend for nearly two years now. So yeah, I've been nagging him. I've only myself to blame for it not being done yet, I suppose.

After that, the last thing on my "Get this house in sellable condition whether we sell or not!" list is to paint the hallway cabinet. I'm thinking white, just to keep it simple. The baseboards could use a touch-up of paint too.

I honestly don't think May has enough days to get all this under my belt, but I may surprise myself and be REALLY motivated.

Maybe.

K-13

Thirteen months. Everyone asks if she's walking and talking. No, and yes. I mean, she walks great holding on to one or both of our hands, or if she knows Daddy is holding on to her jacket. But no steps on her own yet. And yesterday I read two blog posts about kids who didn't do the "milestones" until they were good and ready, so I'm cool with just letting it happen when it happens. We've never forced anything with her, and this waking thing is no different.

But talking? Oh, yes, she talks! Most of it I don't understand, but I love to just listen to the sweet, incessant babble that takes up most of her day. The words she uses consistently are daddy (which sometimes comes out Dadu), puppy (which at the moment applies to any animal), afuera (outside), agua (water), amen (after songs, mealtime and naptime prayers, and good stories), Mami (but only when prompted ... She still calls me Gaaaah when she's looking for me), and papa (which could mean one of many things depending on the circumstances: looking at pictures, it's Grandpa, looking at a bird, it's Pajaro, eating a French fry, it's Potato (What? I don't give my kid French fries, what are you talking about?), playing with rocks, it's Piedra). She says Mmm when she smells a flower and when she eats, and it's just so cute with her little high-pitch soft voice (as opposed to the decidedly alto tones she uses when she's angry or wants something NOW).

Parentheses schmarentheses.

She loves books all of a sudden. She has developed an attachment to her kangaroo and just NEEDS to hold it when she's feeling insecure. Outside is still her favorite place to be, and her Abuelita is already employing her to pull weeds. If I hand her a rag, she will wipe down the nearest surface. If I hand her a brush, she will diligently scrub the floor. We shall see how long this lovely Cinderella phase lasts.

At her 12 month checkup, she weighed 20 lbs 12 oz, was 28" long, and her head is measuring in the 90th percentile. Her doctor remarks, "Big brain," at every visit. She is finally catching up to her peers in the weight and height categories at the 50th and 30th percentiles respectively. She eats solids like a champ, and she's still nursing five or six times a day. I am in no way ready to give up nursing, and neither is she, so my new goal is to make it to 2 years or whenever she decides she's done. It has been challenging of late, because she's pretty much been teething for three months straight now and when she teethes, she bites. The good ol' clamp and drag is her favorite trick, and she also enjoys a bit of nursing yoga when I feed her in bed for our first daylight feed. Coconut oil is amazing for sore body parts, by the way.

Speaking of teeth, she now has five and is working on a sixth. Despite cutting so many teeth in so little time, she has been surprisingly good natured. She does have her moments of frustration and clingy whininess, but for the most part she is happy all the time.

Her favorite part of the day is when Daddy comes home. I've been looking forward to this part of parenthood since I got pregnant. Or maybe since we got married. Actually, I've been looking forward to this since I was a little girl who missed that whole "Daddy's home!" experience. She squeals when she hears the garage door open or sees the car pull up, and she just wants to RUN out the door (except she needs to hold on to Mommy's hand to do it).

This is such a fun time for me, watching her explore and learn and grow way too fast. Thank Heaven for little girls.

Futility

So those ten weeks of cleaning, contact-papering and organizing my entire kitchen? Completely pointless. My kitchen was stripped bare today in preparation to sand and prime the walls and cabinets on Friday and Sunday while we're out of town. So all my gorgeous organization? It all got thrown into random boxes today. Sad face. All that time I spent on the stupid kitchen I could have been cleaning and organizing the bedrooms (especially my closet ... Just ... ugh. I'll post pictures later so you can ugh with me), hallway and bathroom. Of course, had I KNOWN we were going to paint right now, I wouldn't have done all that work, but, see, this family? We have communication problems. My husband and I have been talking about painting, choosing colors, changing our minds about colors, choosing new colors, etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseum, for YEARS, so how was I supposed to know that this time he was SERIOUS? I'm exhausted from four days of painting and an afternoon of emptying my kitchen (which included attempting to carefully roll my brand new beautiful contact paper, which probably won't work and I'll just have to measure and cut and align and apply ALL.OVER.AGAIN.) and now I'm stressed because Karlina's birthday is on Tuesday and how am I supposed to bake a beautiful and healthy birthday cake when my KITCHEN IS EMPTY?!?

So I know that all sounds really negative, but I really am actually pretty excited to paint the kitchen after all these years of despising it and the ugly colors on the walls and cabinets. I'm looking forward to enjoying cooking in a fresh space with cabinets and walls that I don't hate. I may get really fancy and spray-paint the refrigerator, and maybe even the countertops. Yeah, this is gonna be stellar.

Looks just like new!

One year ago, we had just finished the LONG process of rewiring our house, patching holes, and installing devices (switches and outlets). Today, the living room finally is painted. We started last Friday, did trim and details today (and Hubby put the plates and light trims up), and tomorrow I will finish up the last few details like the door frame and the places where the tape didn't quite line up with the corners. It feels so good to have our living room looking presentable. We feel inspired to redecorate and rearrange and get new artwork. Robert said it looks like a brand-new house today. And it does! Until you go to the kitchen, and then, well ... Not so much. But we plan to start painting the kitchen next week. We will be out of town this weekend so one of our handy friends is going to sand all the surfaces while we're gone. I can't wait!!!

Wonder week

Oh man, this kid is so amazing and smart and unpredictable and moody and funny and ... I could go on. This week we seem to be in the middle of a developmental leap that has everyone wondering which way is up. Recently she has started losing her little mind while I'm cutting her nails. She squirms and squeals and screams and cries like I'm torturing her. I suppose in her mind, it is torture to have to keep your hand still for ten seconds. She really just wants to be moving all the time.

I did some reading into this particular leap, and right now she's learning about programs, such as getting dressed, taking a bath, going on a car trip, eating dinner, etc. She loves watching me put my socks and shoes on, and yesterday she tried to put her own sock on. She has also been pulling on her sleeves like she wants to take off her shirt. Today I heard the dog growling and I went in to check things out, and Karlina was chasing him around with his leash in her hands.

She loves music and dancing. If there's no music playing she'll come find me and do a little dance until I turn on the stereo.  She loves pulling cords out of the walls and trying to plug them back in, but still hasn't quite succeeded getting it back in there. No worries, we have TR outlets which are supposedly baby proof.

She wants to be near me or attached to me all.day.long. The other day my mother-in-law and I were painting the living room while Robert babysat, and he couldn't put her down for even a second without her screaming. Now he knows how I feel ....

So pretty soon, according to my Wonder Weeks book, she will start wanting to help me clean, get more independent, start walking without help, start feeding herself with her spoon. I'm excited to see her start doing these things, but man, I wish she could stay this age just a little while longer. She just is so precious and adorable and funny. Her little voice saying Daddy and Mama just melts my heart. I'm more in love with her every single day.

This. Just ... Ah.