Family

Afraid of Flying With a Baby? Go Southwest.

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flight

The tiny one and I have taken 2 roundtrips together.  We have flown Southwest both times.  The first flight was fairly dreamy.  I carried the small bundle of love inside a Moby wrap.  The bestie flew with me on the outbound flight because I was scared to fly alone.  We had an entire row to ourselves and Teeny only cried when people eyeballed our middle seat.  He was cute and sleepy the rest of the time.  On the way home, it was the same.  The first leg of the flight was so empty that most people had their own row.  A woman across the aisle said she was moved by the way I looked at him.  The biggest challenge I had was convincing the person in front of me that the gaseous, adult-like noises were not coming from me, but a 3 month old infant.  That particular plane did not have a changing table in the bathroom.  I thought that was rough.  Little did I know….

We flew again when he was 5.5 months.  I was not nearly as nervous.  I felt I knew his behavior.  I was a little worried about missing his afternoon nap, but he slept almost the entire time on the previous flight, so I assumed he would again.  The first leg was challenging, but doable.  We again flew Southwest and again no one wanted the middle seat.  He fussed, but we walked the aisles and it was ok.  He fell asleep 20 minutes before we landed.  We sprinted for our gate and all hell broke loose.  He was a complete and total mess for the next 1 and a half hours.  I would like to say that when people boarded after us they saw a woman with large blue eyes and youthfully tousled hair, discreetly nursing a baby with just a hint of womanly cleavage showing.  In all actuality, I had a crazed look in my eye with hair that could have housed beavers, and I would have offered my fully exposed teats to anyone who could make this baby stop screaming.  He would not stop.  He missed his nap.  I took his clothes off because he’s a little nudie.  I sang to him.  I offered him a bottle.  I walked the aisles with him and apologized to passengers.  He.Would.Not.Stop.Screaming.  The ‘dude’ (you fake hipster) in front of me kept turning and looking at me, and it certainly was not because he was interested in my still exposed breasts.  I finally yelled that there was nothing I could do to make him stop crying.  He did not turn around even once more.  The kind, princess-of-the-air flight attendant came over when we had to buckle up and offered to walk with him.  I burst into tears and sobbed the rest of the flight.  She assured me over and over again that it was ok.  She walked with my screaming mess and appeared to like him.  I am certain she was the only one on the flight who did.  She was an angel at that moment.  The way back was not nearly as traumatic.  The amazing, fabulous, professional flight attendants let us take our car seat on the flight, which helped immensely, and told me that mothers drink for free on their flight.  I am flying back in a few weeks (with reinforcements) and I had no problem paying an extra $40 to fly Southwest*.  Southwest, you are amazing and are a luxury for terrified mothers.  I am yours….for life.

*I apologize in advance for any non-parents on my flight.

Give It Away

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I learned a lesson today.  My father has a philosophy that if someone is desperate enough to stand and ask you for money, you should give if you can.  Once you give, the money is no longer yours to judge what that person does with it.

This was on my list today:

  • Return zappos shoes that were a back up for Patrick’s father’s day present.
  • Hit the Bath and Body Works sale and stock up on antibacterial soaps.
  • Get finger paints to do cool ziplock project for the tiny one that my friend showed me.
  • Buy orange chicken at Trader Joe’s because I’m addicted.

All of these things involve money, and are a part of my life that I do not worry about.  Nothing is extravagant, but nothing on the list is a cause for monetary consternation either.  I hit the sale and scored an extra .50 cents off each soap and decided to stroll to Starbucks because I have serious insomnia.  On my way, there was an old man who was clearly down on his luck.  He was wearing a straw fedora and took it off and held it out as we passed.  I did not stop because of the tiny one and my mama bear instinct, but continued to think about him and how skinny he was.  I decided I would buy him coffee.  What if he doesn’t like coffee?  Ok, they have these cooler drinks; I’ll get him one of those.  No, Patrick says that men don’t like those kinds of drinks.  All right, I’ll get him a $5 card and he can get a coffee and pastry or whatever he wants.

I got my coffee and the card and went back to find the man.  He was there and I gave it to him and said there was enough for coffee and a pastry.  His face lit up and he asked me which restaurant the card was for.  I told him.  He thanked me and hurried towards Starbucks.  I got in my car and cried.  He was so skinny.  Why didn’t I do $10?  That would have gotten him a sandwich.  Why didn’t I do $20?  That would be breakfast for a few days and it wouldn’t have changed my financial situation in any way.

My heart breaks for this hungry man who still got up and dressed himself for the day, and I am thankful for his presence in my life today.  It humbled me and allowed me to think of the lessons from my father and to have a conversation with the tiny one that I am certain he did not understand, but will, someday.  I added compassion to my goals of happy and healthy for his life.

WHY A MUSICAL THEATER GIRL SHOULD NEVER CAMP

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I was not raised in an outdoorsy household.  We were ‘sporty’ but not ‘outdoorsy’.  My mom played tennis at a club, we rode bikes, skied regularly, and my dad even went on fishing trips.  He rested in a very nice condo at night, however.  I had no desire to camp and it was never something that our family even attempted.  When we moved to Omaha, we found a lovely church and one of the youth highlights for the entire year was this church camp thing.  My mom signed us up.  It was a good way to meet and bond with new friends.  We went to Walmart and I chose a sleeping bag that had my favorite shade of green for the lining.  We didn’t ask about temperatures it was suited for, or if I needed a head zipper thingy because we were not campers.  It was cute; I felt prepared.  I packed my matching green nightgown and some hot rollers.  I was set for camp.

The age bracket I fell into slept on “the hill”.  This was something my fellow campers had spent years waiting to do.  It was a big deal.  The kids on the hill did not sleep in cabins.  You dragged your cot into the middle of a field and all slept together.  Oh, and you had to hike to get to the hill.  I did not see the fun in any of this, but went along sure that it would get better.  The hype was that serious.  The first night, I failed to notice that everyone was piling on layers before going to bed because it was dark and I was preoccupied with myself.  I slipped into my nightgown and hopped into my cot.   I froze my tail off.  It was miserable.  My sleeping bag was about an inch thick and my synthetic satin nightgown felt like a layer of morning dew.  Everyone else had bags that cinched around their heads and were toasty with all their layers.  (Thanks for the preparation non-outdoorsy family.)  Making do, I hiked down to the showers with my trusty hot rollers.  Guess what?  No electricity up on the hill.  So I am going to wake up each morning freezing cold and spend the entire day with horrible, frizzy hair, and this is just going to repeat itself for an entire week?  AND there are cute older boys here too?  Super.Fun.Camp.  Just when I thought it could not get worse, I find out you play morning games before hiking all the way back down for breakfast.  One of the games involved filling your mouth with flour and spitting at other people.  DO MY PARENTS HATE ME?  Why am I here?  I am a musical theater nerd with no interest at all in this nature crap and I am stuck here for a week.  I ended up enjoying the friends up on the hill, but I hated the camp.  I hated it the next year too, but at least we got to sleep in cabins with electricity.  It just wasn’t my thing.

We have friends who invite us to RV with them.  I will not go.  We have friends who invite us to camp in the desert.  Absolutely not….  Why would you go somewhere where you “dig a hole” to go to the bathroom?  How is this fun?  What I do enjoy immensely now, however, is hiking.  My husband and I hiked when we found out our first round of ivf failed.  We hiked on my birthday when I was 6.5 months pregnant.  We hike after an argument.  I can see the beauty in being outdoors and revel in it.   We have branched out a few times, but there is a secret trail in La Canada, CA that we find ourselves drawn to.  You begin with a tree covered path, next to a dancing stream with fallen logs.  It is straight out of a fairy tale.  The best part?  I go home ready for a hot shower followed by my huge, comfortable bed indoors.

hiking

Gifts For Father’s Day

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My husband and I attended high school together.  He is a year older.  When we tell people we met in high school, they assume we were high school sweethearts.  We were not, except for one, very brief, month.  We reconnected when I was in a travelling children’s show that performed in Chicago, where he was living and working.  We hit the town and I made him dance with me in a bar where no one else was dancing.  He was both fascinated and appalled by what he calls my “show boating”.  The bar, Matildas, is famous for its variety of martinis and I sort of believed I was both invincible and invisible after 2 of them.  When I hit 3, I invited him to watch the show.  I played a variety of characters from a witch, to an elephant, to a chef.  My main costume was: a white turtleneck, white culottes, white tights, white tennis shoes, and a white apron.  (You can see why I waited until the 3rd martini, no?) In one scene, I danced around making a pretend salad.  In another, I pretended to be a mouse and ran around the stage making mouse noises.  Patrick declined, and to this day, he regrets not going and witnessing that spectacle.  This was our beginning.

Patrick and I are both kind of dramatic.  He one time told me that he could either be a good husband or a good father, but not both.  I have no idea how he came up with this statement, or how he rationalized it, but there it was.  He also told me that he would like to be the type of man who pulls off a regular hat.  I only include this to give you an idea of how our conversations go and his mind set.  I am not mocking, by the way.  I love this.  It fits us.  Patrick has now been my husband for 8 years and a father for 9 months.  He, like all other tasks he puts his mind to, has exceeded all expectations in both categories.  We are not without disagreements and arguments, but he is mine and I would not trade him, even for Tim Riggins.  While the list could go on for pages, these moments jump out at me regarding his character as a father and husband.

  • For my birthday this year, a part of my present was him coming home from work early (meaning going in freakishly early) so I had time to run or do something on my own.
  • He has always supported every endeavor of mine, encouraged and brainstormed many, and caught me when I began to fall.
  • He went to almost every single prenatal visit and fully participated in child birthing classes.
  • He never once left our side in the hospital except to go home and take care of our puppies.
  • He takes shifts in the middle of the night, and actually wants to.
  • He reads in character voices to Teddy for his favorite book, “Brown Bear”.
  • He regularly tells me that I have the body to pull off short shorts.  (I did not say he was sane.)
  • He is the most optimistic human I have ever met when it comes to life’s potential.

There is not a gift I could give that would be equal to my appreciation to this man, but here are a few gifts important men in my life have said make it a little sweeter.  Here is a little list if you need some help for the upcoming celebration of fatherhood.

Sporting Category:

Under Armour Golf Shirts: these beat out the competition because of their loose fit and cool breathe technology.

under armour

Nike Golf Shoes: The tennis shoe style breathes better.

nike golf shoe

Mizuno: This workout shoe is ideal for flat and wider feet.  www.mizunousa.com

Jawbone Up: “UP is a wristband and app that tracks how you sleep, move and eat—then helps you use that information to feel your best.” –from jawbone.com.  Great new tool for techies and cross fitters.

jawbone up

Fashion:

Hugo Boss Ties: the quality is superior.  They have a firm enough texture to stay tied nicely throughout the day.  Also, not appropriate for Father’s Day weather, but he makes the most incredible velvet blazer I have ever seen.  Neiman’s has them on sale.

Donald Pliner Dress Shoes: I love my brother David’s sense of style and he will now only wear this dress shoe since discovering it.

donald pliner

Ted Baker Socks: You have to love a bit of cheeky British whimsy for these.

ted baker socks

Cowboy boots: There is not a manlier, or sexier shoe out there.  Plus, for any men who see themselves taller, there is a little lift in them.  No worries, they will not look like Prince.  Zappos.com upgrades your free shipping to overnight.

dan post

Miscellaneous:

Tumi Wallets: Tumi is a luxury brand with a modern look.  Their products last forever and their wallets are very reasonably priced.  After Patrick washed (and ruined) the Gucci wallet I gave him, I bought him this.  It has been washed and still is kicking 8 years later.

pTUMI1-7880257v400

Meoimi Wine: I am not a wine connoisseur by any means, but my brother is.  He recommends this for a nice, well priced red.

Gold Bond Lotion: It just works for man hands.

Brush Your Hair

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This is simply a tale of caution to let you know that your personal paparazzi can pop up anywhere, at anytime.

The tiny one has an ear infection that started last week.  He had been waking up multiple times during the night for about a week.  It hit its peak Thursday evening and he could not sleep at all.  I held, sang, cuddled, and fed him most of the night.  I have no complaints about that evening, but I was a walking disaster the next day.  He was a crawling disaster and needed extra love.  I brushed my teeth and washed my face with him clinging to my leg and sobbing.  This repeated when I needed to get dressed.  I grabbed shorts off the floor and the first top I could reach.  I debated skipping changing my underwear, but thought that I should have a small amount of personal pride.  I put on mascara for my post pictures and called it a day.  I did not brush my hair and was pale as a ghost.  I did not care.  I felt proud of the small achievement of the updated underpants.

Patrick came home and the tiny one was adorable and charming.  He may have thought I faked the sobbing and clinging.  We decided to go get frozen yogurt because it was a lovely evening.  I looked like a transient and was fine with it.  Just get me sugar and out of this house!  I was excited to try out my new Ergo carrier too.  (It is awesome, by the way.)  Yogurt was a success, the weather was a success, the ambiance of South Pasadena is always a success.  My appearance, not so much, but who would know?  My husband snaps a picture of our son’s cuteness and posts it to Facebook.  I scream that I am supposed to be knowledgeable about fashion and beauty and in one snap, my street cred is gone.  I am pale, smelly, have visible roots (isn’t it called ombre when you brush your hair?), horrible outfit, and the angle makes me look a good 10 pounds bigger.  I threatened to post my nudie of him holding the tiny one, but got paranoid about being arrested for child pornography.

The moral of the story?  While I appreciate the fact that my husband finds me attractive at my worst, take the time to feel good.  5 more minutes to bronze my cheeks, brush my hair, and put together a decent outfit would have made for a picture worth posting, and quite frankly, pulling myself together physically keeps me pulled together emotionally when I am bone weary.  Patrick, I challenge you to a retake this weekend.  Bring it.

A Different Type of “In Da Club”

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My brothers and I would work out at a gym with my dad when I came home from college on breaks.  It was an activity I looked forward to because we had passed the age of fighting and I enjoyed my brothers immensely.  To this day, I am desperate to be a part of their bromance duo, but it probably is not going to happen.  I would like to ask them what stunt I can pull to prove I am no longer the tattle tale, goody two shoes sister, but this would just confirm to them that I am not cool enough to be in their club.  They are the funniest people I know and I adore them.  This particular time, one brother went to play basketball with my dad while my other brother and I hit the treadmill.  I always run with headphones on and block out the rest of the world.  A huge, giant thud interrupted me, however, and when I looked over, my brother was a couple feet behind the treadmill in face plant position.  I started laughing, uncontrollably, from the gut.  He looked up with blood on his face, and I still laughed.  (Horrible, I am aware, but instincts are instincts.)  I asked him what happened and he said that he thought he would rest his eyes for a few minutes.  We had family pictures the next day.  My mom was not happy.

I thought of this today because I found some old itunes gems that brought me back to the old days.  They just appeared out of nowhere.  I thought I lost them forever years ago, and magically, they came back!  One of them was Bone Thugs and Harmony’s ‘Tha Crossroads’ which always reminds me of that good old gym.  I am only a hipster when it comes to musical theater (I faked liking Nirvana in high school), but I have some good old boy band and hip hop songs that make your workout better.  I like a strong beat.  I ran an extra 2 blocks today with my playlist back in action.  Go thighs!  I get the clean versions when possible…

Backstreet Boys: The Call

Britney Spears featuring Lil Kim: Gimme More

Busta Rhymes, Mary J Blige, Missy Elliott: Touch It

Destiny’s Child: Soldier

DMX: Where the Hood At (fantastic for a last ditch push)

Eve: Tambourine

House of Pain: Jump Around

Jay Z: Big Pimpin’ (favorite Jay song EVER)

Naughty by Nature: O.P.P

NSync: Girlfriend (Neptunes Remix featuring Nelly)

P Diddy and Snoop: Welcome to Atlanta (Remix)

Tag Team: Whoomp There It Is

P.S. If you know all 3 of us, I’m taking bets on which brother you think bit the dust big time.

brothers

 

Motherhood Is A Gift That Doesn’t Come Easily To All

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Last year Patrick and I decided not to celebrate Mother’s Day. We thought it could jinx our pregnancy. We had lost the tiny one’s twin early on, and he had been in jeopardy as well. It was too raw for us to celebrate with any confidence. This year, I cannot wait, but I don’t see it as a day about me. I see it as a day dedicated to being grateful for the opportunity to be T’s mama. I see jokes online about how it’s a day to not have to wipe rear ends or be awakened early, and I know there is truth there, but I see this day differently. Maybe it is because aside from a no napping stretch early on, T is an easy baby. Maybe it is because I only have 1 child, which is infinitely easier than 2. Maybe. I think it comes from all the stress, prayers, and the emotional roller coaster ride we took to create this beautiful baby boy. My greatest luxury is this wonderful little family I am a part of, so today my post is in answer to the trite articles written about the difficulties of being a mother. I can tell you that there is a vast population of would-be mothers out there who’s greatest desire is to clean poop off their own child’s bottom or live with sleep deprivation.
• Today I want you to wake me up in the middle of the night from a deep sleep. I am grateful to be the person you want to comfort you. This time goes too fast and I will take any opportunity to spend time with you when the night is dark and still.
• Please twist on the changing table while your bottom is still dirty. It makes me laugh to see you curious about your world and lets me know that you are growing stronger.
• Please make a big mess today with your food for me to clean up. It is better than any movie I could be watching to see you discover how to squish watermelon and then drool it out.
• Please cry a few times today and reach for me. You will not always want me this much and I savor it.
• To my husband: please do not buy me an expensive gift. I stay home with our child every day. That is the best gift you have ever given me, including my Manolo Blahniks and UCLA gymnastics tickets. Besides, when do you have time to shop? You work constantly to make sure I can stay home. Thank you.
• Please chuck your toys across the room. I have been waiting to see your arm strength.
• Please don’t take a nap today. It will panic me enough to research a million things online and learn something I did not know. It may even help me get in touch with friends I haven’t communicated with while seeking their advice.
• Please bite me while nursing. You are the only human in life who has been able to teach me patience. I love you.

teddy 4months 16.2 lbs

Jo Annette, My Grandmother

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pikes peak

I took the train from Scottsbluff, NE to Denver, CO in the summer to see my grandparents.  They lived in Colorado Springs, which continues to be a magical place in my mind.  Sometimes my cousin Kerry Jean met me there.  Sometimes I was by myself.  It was something that I greatly looked forward to doing.  My grandmother, Jo Annette, was a great grandma to a young girl.  She was the first beauty queen I personally knew.  She showed me the picture of herself in her OSU yearbook and she was a stunner.  I remember hoping I looked like that picture when I grew up.  Grandma put me in a light blue room that had big windows and was filled with antiques that I was allowed to touch.  She had jewelry boxes in every bedroom filled with costume jewelry.  Kerry Jean and I used to quiver with excitement waiting to get our hands in those boxes.  I always felt very grown up because Grandma would take us to fancy lunches or teas downtown and we went to all of her favorite antique stores and did lots of shopping in general.  She never talked down to us.  It was perfectly normal to do all of these things just like we were adults.  If shopping is a genetic trait, it certainly came from her side.  Grandma and Grandpa took us high into the mountains to a town called Cripple Creek.  It’s an old mining town and we would pan for gold, certain our financial fortunes were about to change.

cripple creek

These are only a small taste of what Grandma and Grandpa planned for my visits.   It was an important part of my childhood.

Time and aging were not kind to my grandma.  A lot of sadness is attached to her later years, and frustration too.  Even in things you wish did not happen or happened differently, there is an opportunity to learn from them and, hopefully, allow you to pursue your own life differently going forward.  Grandma died in her sleep on Wednesday, and what is interesting, is that all I think about in regards to her now, is how much fun she was when I was little.  One last gift, perhaps.

I’ll have another post again next Wednesday.

My Friendship with C

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Somewhere on the Upper East Side….
C: I need you to come over and alibi me while I pack.
Katie: Sure. I’ll be right there.
(5 minutes later I’m there.)
C: I’m throwing out these scissors and I need you to watch me do it in case they’re later used in a murder and have my finger prints on them.
Katie: I get it.

This is an example of why C is my beloved friend. She is really more of a sister than a friend. Our minds understand each other and I would not be who I am today without her. We became adults together and made each other better people. Before nights out together, I would coach her on how to make small talk in the bars. I would look over an hour later and she would be trying to get some guy to talk to her about religion or politics while I was quoting boy band lines. Over the years, she lightened up while I deepened up. We have shared a bedroom on 2 occasions. The second time, after our other roommate moved out, we still kept the bedroom empty, preferring to be together to talk late into the night. We knew it was going to end and wanted to drag out the inevitable. We had a balcony off the room and would sit for hours, drinking wine, and talking. Half the time it was in gibberish, since we could finish each other’s thoughts, or reference our past stories with only a word or two.
C, her husband, and her darling daughter moved across the country and the loss was profound for me. I usually did not need other friends when I was able to have her. While we are 15 years older and have changed in multitudes of ways, we are still together. She is one of the greatest luxuries in my life. I have been thinking about her a lot because she just got her court date in Africa to go and petition to bring a little boy, who has become her child, home to America. She has already flown to Uganda on her own to visit him in his orphanage, and has been on a quest to get him permanently into her arms. I have no doubt she will be able to conquer this. C has never been one to take no for an answer and I fear for the entire country if they try. I cannot wait to visit and play wild games of hide and seek with him. I will be Auntie Kat who teaches him the slightly inappropriate songs and phrases, because that has always been my role in our ever evolving friendship. Go get him girl!