First birthday photos

A few photos, please stop looking now if you do not like incredibly cute babies.

Yes, we dressed her up like Yoda. We know we are geeks.

There was a birthday party

Last weekend was the party. It was, well, it was a party, for a one year old. I still don't get why it's such a big deal. Am I crazy, or is it everyone else?

It was exciting for Goosey, being at her Grandma's always is because there is so much new stuff to terrorize and get into. Like all the breakable things and collectible dolls that are all over the floor (yep, all over the floor. It takes eagle eyes to hang out over at the Shopping Queens house.)

Goosey made out like a bandit with the presents; toys, clothes, books, a collectible precious moments doll. Yes, that's right someone gave her a collector doll. When I opened the box I read the tag that said 'this item is NOT a toy...' and the advice began. "You should put her hairnet back on." "Keep the box, you ALWAYS keep the box for collectible items." "I gave Goosey's cousin one collectible doll every year until she was ten." "Our mom would let us play with our special collectible dolls twice a year." I had no idea what to say, I believe that toys are meant to be played with, not to sit on shelves. I pretended to really take the advice to heart, and put the doll back in the box. What else could I do with all of Mr. NH's family giving such great advice about it.

There was Pooh cake with pink icing, and not the good kind, but the stuff that tastes terrible. Goosey got her hands in it, but didn't like the sticky feeling. So rather than eat most of it, she flung it on the floor.

The most exciting thing, wasn't the birthday or the presents or the cake, but the dog. Goosey followed her around the kitchen in circles trying to pet her. It was a nice break for me.

The things that excited me most at the party included these conversation tidbits:

d: "Whatever happened to giving asexual toys to kids?"
s: "It's because girls need girl toys and boys need boy toys. Girls should be at home learning from the mother, like cooking and cleaning."
(I didn't say they were all good exciting...)

f: "Can you look at my foot and tell me what's wrong with it?"
Mr. Nh: "Ok, but is it clean?"

f: "Netty pots are messy and don't feel good."
m: "Have you used one?"
f: "No, but it sounds like it would be messy."
d: "S would be using one every half an hour if she got one, she always has sinus problems."
s: evil, evil glare to her husband d.

me: "Goosey, you want to hold your cousins hand?"
cousin: "I'm not holding her hand, too much frosting."
a: "Wimp."

And the conversation with the Spiritual Mother about the final transition of changing from calling her son Rachel/she to Trey/he. I could see Mr. NH's aunt trying as hard as she could to pretend like she wasn't listening to the conversation. She is a staunch christian who believes in everything the bible says, especially about marriage and lifestyle 'choices.'

It was a nice enough party, but I am so glad that it's done.

One year old Yoda girl.

Climbing mount coffetable

Mr. Not Hideous and I rearrange the apartment again. It was the third time we did it this year. The first time was in January when we first moved in. We didn't plan it out well. The second time was right as Goosey was starting to crawl, we didn't want her to burn her fingers on the radiator. This time we had to rearrange because Goosey apparently wants to be a gymnast, so she tried practicing her air-born somersaults. Let me explain.

Last week Goosey decided to take advantage of her incredibly sleep-deprived parents. She started climbing on everything. And by everything I mean the coffetable.

I like to think that if i hadn't been so sleep-deprived she wouldn't have gotten up there, at least it wouldn't have happened over and over and over and over again. And maybe if I hadn't been so tired I would have been the Queen of Distractions, singing funny songs and finding the perfect silly face to stop my little mountaineer. But I was tired. In my tired haze I made a bad decision, I chose to let her be on the coffeetable while I sat with her to keep her from scooting off. It was my moment of weakness. It set the standard for all future climbing exploits.

Goosey happily played with the books and dvd cases that were stacked on the coffetable. She was content to sit, and as long as she was sitting I wasn't too worried. In my tired haze I made another bad decision; I turned to put the wipes away.

It took two seconds. She stood up, tripped and flew through the air making a beautiful somersault landing face first on the heater vent, legs pointing away from the coffeetable. THUNK.

She cried, I held her and put arnica on her small bruise and watched to make sure she didn't get a concussion. Mr. NH took her back downstairs to see the chiropractor for the second time that day. And she was fine, bruised and out of adjustment, but fine. And she stayed off the coffeetable for about six hours, then it was back to climbing, climbing, climbing. So we had to change things.

It took about two hours to get everything moved into a safer play area. Unfortunately, I know that when she figures out how to climb on the couch we will have to rearrange things again. Great.

She really is too young to be a gymnast, but try telling her that.

One year on Saturday

The Goosey-girl turns one on Saturday. I'm excited.

Now I think most mom's are excited about the birthday party. You know, the one where there is a theme and some kind of cartoon shaped cake. Like cookie monster, Dora the explorer or Thomas the train. The party where every family member has been sent invites weeks in advance with a card to send back the RSVP. The party where weeks or maybe months have been spent planning, decorating, and worrying about how it will go. But not me.

I don't understand those birthday parties. Why all the fuss? No matter how many photographs you take the child won't remember it. I know turning one is a big deal, but for me, not big enough to spend that much money on it. I would much rather have the big party at five or ten.

Goosey almost wasn't going to have the big party, and honestly if it had been up to me, she wouldn't have. Maybe we would have done something special, but not THE party. But we are having THE party. Mr. NH's mother, Shopping Queen, is hosting, and taking care of ALL the details. I only need to make sure the guest of honor gets there, and that excites me.

I have no idea what the party will be like, I'm sure there will be cake. I just have no idea if it will be in a special shape or if the party even has a theme. I don't know if there would be any relevant theme other than cats that Goosey would get excited about. She doesn't watch TV and wouldn't have any idea what was going on if Dora suddenly appeared on her cake. Goosey would just get excited for the frosting.

So what is getting me all excited for her turning one? The car seat. Yes, that's right, the car seat. Goosey turning one marks the much anticipated event of being able to turn her car seat around so that it is front facing! This may not seem like much, but, for the girl who doesn't like to drive more than one hour in the car, I'm hoping it will lengthen her tolerance for car trips. Hopefully, it means that driving the five hours to the Storysmith's for Thanksgiving will be easier; I don't want to have to leave at 4am again.

So, here's to the Goosey-girl turning one, and her soon-to-be front facing car seat!

The road trip that decided it

Mr. NH called me from his work last Saturday, "Do you want to go to Colorado?"

"Uh, yes!!!"

So, we started making phone calls to see who could watch Goosey for us for the weekend. This was a major road trip on last minute planning, fifteen hours each way, not something a ten-month old can handle. We called and called and called, and I had just about given up on the trip when he called back and said the magical words. "Start packing."

I was nervous, really nervous. This was the first time being away from Goosey over night, and we were going to be gone the whole weekend. I was panicky and really had to concentrate to be able to pay attention to what I was doing.

I over packed, for all three of us, I worried that I had forgotten something, and had to restart cleaning jobs that I walked away from as I remembered something else that I had to do. As we waited away the hours till departure time, packing and cleaning the house, my nervousness went away, not to return until the goodbye moment.

The goodbye moment came and went, leaving us child-free for a weekend, me nervous and excited, and 1,000 miles away from our destination.

We spent our driving time listening to Samantha, the voice from Mr. NH's younger brother's gps. Samantha was pushy, and didn't like it when we chose our own route or tried to program in a road we wanted to take. We made u-turns and shut her off. I think my next road trip I'll leave Samantha behind, she can tell someone else every 10 miles how many miles to the next direction. I think her favorite phrase is 'keep left.'

Mr. NH and I have been talking about moving out of Minnesota for the past few months, well longer than that. We decided that we want to move to Manitou Springs, Co. The only problem was that neither of us has been there, so road trip.

Reaching Colorado seemed to take forever, and once we did get in the state it seemed to take forever to be able to see the mountains. I had been reading aloud to Mr. NH while he drove, and kept stopping about every sentence to scan the horizon for the Rocky Mountains. When I finally saw them, that was it, no more reading.

I fell in love with the scenery in Colorado. The mountains are so beautiful, but I especially loved the rolling landscape around the mountains. Everything is exposed, nothing hidden. To me it feels like you have to be yourself there, you can't hide who you truly are. Different from Minnesota, where it feels like you can hide behind the corn fields and trees. Minnesota feels like a cocoon sometimes.

I also fell in love with Manitou. It has a small town feel, it is touristy, and has art everywhere. There was a mosaic on one of the underpasses. Just about everyone we talked to was from somewhere else, they had chosen Manitou.

We stayed for less than 24 hours, but it was worth it. We know we'll be back, we know we'll live there. It is the place we will have more kids, I will be part of the knitting group that meets weekly, we'll join in the weekly talks about the environment and sprituality at the local bookstore, and shop at the co-op. It will be home, just not soon enough.

Is my brain the only one that works around here?

Every year when the school year would end and summer would finally come the hatlady could be heard saying "Is my brain the only one that works around here?" She says it was like we would come home from the last day of school and shut off our common sense, shut off the practical side of our brains. I never wanted to hear myself say that or think that, because that would mean that I was becoming more like her, becoming the MOM.

I hear myself say it, in the same exasperated tone that she did. I hear myself think that as I end up doing whatever the task is. And what gets me about that phrase is that I'm not saying it to Goosey, I'm saying it to Mr. Not Hideous. When did this become the standard of our relationship?

I love him with everything I have, he is my partner in everything, but I wish my brain wasn't the only one that worked sometimes.

High-threshold relationships

I recently read a post on Facebook by my friend, Spiritual Mother, it was talking about high-threshold and low-threshold relationships. So I'm contemplating who is on my high-threshold list, and can feel my heart swelling just thinking of my relationships with those people.

Let me explain. High-threshold is not, like I first thought, high-maintenance. High-threshold is the relationship that you would do anything for, never let die, compromise the love you share, basically sticking out the relationship no matter what. High-threshold is that person you know you would never let go of, the person that you would do anything for.

Low-threshold is the relationship that you have not fully committed yourself to, one you would walk away from because of an issue or disagreement. Basically, a relationship without an agreement at a deeper level.

So, here is the beginning of my high-threshold list. I know it will continue to grow, change and transform as I do, but here is the list as of now. (In no particular order, except for number one and number two).

Mr. Not Hideous: because he is who he is and I can't imagine not having him around.

Goosey: the sweet girl who is part of me. She has shaped my life in so many ways, I can't even begin to explain.

Storysmith: My sister and best friend. It has taken us about 20 years to get here, I'm so glad we finally are.

Box Car Child: My other sister, and best friend. Always my accomplice in life. The absolute free spirit.

The Plaid Man: My brother-in-law, the first man I could truly trust. He opened me up in a way to be able to receive a relationship with Mr. NH. I can't thank him enough.

The Hatlady: How could my mother not make the list?

Spiritual Mother: The woman who made me have the conversation with Mr. NH about having a relationship. She is one of the most powerful women I know.

B and L: My second parents. Two people who have shaped me into who I am, and taught me so many things about life and living fearlessly while still questioning things to find my own beliefs.

Traveling Man: It took me a long time to get to here with my Dad. He traveled a lot when I was young and I assumed he didn't love me, getting rid of that story was one of the best things I have done in my entire life.

Girl Genius: My half sister. An amazing girl, I can't wait to see the woman she turns into and how she will change the world.

Triple A: This man is unconditional love in itself. I have never met a more caring, loving, generous human being.

My Communist: She has fostered my love for travel and nature, and is brilliant.

Dances for Dull Moments: My absolute favorite choreographer, and a complete artistic genius. She is fearless.

Die Cut Queen: Ultimate teacher, camp counselor, and empathetic to the core. The only person I've ever met who won't kill a mosquito.

Sister-friend: My longest lasting friendship, and the girl who ultimately gets me.


That's my list. I recommend you make one, and share it with your high-threshold friends.

The first trip to the ER and how we finally got ice cube trays

*This post contains descriptions of a bloody injury. if you're squeamish, I'd say skip it.

Yesterday was a high adrenaline day filled with hours of waiting. Not really a great combination in my opinion. But I guess that any day spent in the emergency room is not really a great day anyway.

Mr. Not Hideous had only been at work for about an hour when I called.

Me: "Um, Hi. Goosey just bit her tongue."

Mr. Not Hideous: "Okaaaay. I'm coming. Bye."

Me: " Bye..."

I didn't see how it happend. I had my back turned for one second, it only takes one, that's what everyone says. I just heard a very lound thunk and wails coming from behind me. I assume that Goosey slipped and slammed her chin down on the 'ledge of doom' (as it shall now be called.) Luckily, she only has four teeth, two only the bottom and two on the top, if she had more she would have bitten her tongue right off. Instead its just a hole.

He must have heard the panic in my voice because he called back in about two minutes, asking all the right questions.

Mr. NH: "Is there a lot of blood?"

Me: "No, not really."

Mr. NH: "Is there a big hole?"

Me: "I'm not sure."

Mr. NH: "Are you okay?"

Me: "I'm kinda freaking out right now..."

Mr. NH: "Okay, take a cleansing breath. Just relax, everything will be fine. If you need some help before I get home go downstairs to the chiropractic office. And if there is too much blood for us to handle, call the paramedics."

Me: "Yeah. We can handle it, it's not too much blood."

Mr. NH: "I'll be home soon."

I have worked at summer camps and in the ballroom at IKEA and have seen blood and injured children; I've kept my cool through all those situations, but something about this being MY baby sent me very close to loosing my cool. The only time that I have lost my cool in an emergency situation was when the emergency was happening to me, I just can't seem to think straight when I'm the patient. My judgement becomes impaired, and I need someone to tell me what to do; don't give me options, just say what needs to be done. I could tell that I was close to getting to that situation, so I took charge. I started telling myself what to do, talking to myself and really focusing on what would help the situation.

And so I waited for him to come home while holding my 10-month old baby girl, giving her cold cloths and her ice lobster to suck on to try to stop the bleeding. Mr. NH called about every eight minutes, just to make sure we were doing okay and to tell me things he learned in his EMT training.

Once he got home and assessed the situation, we decided it was going to be a trip to the emergency room. I made a bag of cold wet cloths for the car and made myself eat a granola bar while Mr. NH went downstairs to see if they had any ice cubes. No such luck. Of course they have ice packs, being a chiropractic office, but no ice in cubes.

Mr. NH jumped in the driver seat, and Goosey and I got in the back. Usually the car seat is a big struggle, but luckily she absolutely loves to suck on wet cloths so it sped up the process quite a bit.

We checked in at the ER and sat down to wait. I think we were in the ER waiting room for about an hour before we got to see a nurse. If I had been thinking properly before we left I would have packed a ER bag for Goosey, but nope, all we had for her was one penguin to play with. That lost its appeal in about half an hour. I'm going to mark that one down as a rookie mistake.

While we were waiting a man burst out of the ER door and made a bee line for the exit. He had about four doctors and nurses following him, trying to get him back inside. Unfortunately for him there were three squad cars parked right outside the entrance to the ER, with all the officers waiting around. He didn't make it very far before the officers were ushering him back in while all wearing their weighted gloves and hold tasers. Seriously. That did nothing for my nerves.

Apart from being bored and really wanting to walk around, Goosey was pretty much fine for the entire wait. But when we saw the nurse and we had to get her mouth open to show off her tongue, that's when there were lots of tears. We had to lay her on her back, a position that Goosey hates more than any other, and use a 'tongue knife' as the nurse called it to pry her mouth open. (Really, nurse, calling it a tongue knife does not make my nerves settle one bit! Since when do they call it that, why can't you say tongue depressor?)

The nurse sent us on our way to the same day clinic. Before we left we got her to give up a cup of crushed ice for Goosey to suck on. She almost didn't give us any because she was concerned about choking while the doctor checked her out. (I mean really, nurse, do you think we would put ice in her mouth while the doctor was diagnosing her? And do you really think that the doctor wouldn't notice the ice in the mouth while looking at a tongue wound?)

So we waited again. As we waited the room around us filled up as more and more patients arrived. We apparently had good timing. While we were waiting on of the receptionists came around the room a few times to reassure everyone, let us know how long the wait would be, that we were next, and to get Goosey some more crushed ice. I would like to nominate that man for an angel award, seriously, he was the most pleasant, caring person.

After waiting for about two and a half hours to see a doctor we finally saw Dr. Patton for fifteen minutes. I think five of those minutes were filled with three adults trying to hold a little crying girl down to open her mouth enough to see the extent of the damage. That was when I made a mistake. I was holding her arms and being kicked in the chest, and I peeked. I looked right at her mouth as Mr. NH and Dr. Patton got it open. It was gross. I was able to still hold her down, but my whole body did a squeamish shiver dance. Gross.

Dr. Patton gave us our options, knock her out and give her stitches or give her antibiotics and let it heal on its own. We chose to let it heal, people pierce their tongues all the time, no problem. Really, I didn't expect the doctor to have any other options, and I think Mr. NH and I knew that we would opt for no stitches if possible, but we knew we had to take her in.

As of now, Goosey's tongue has closed up, which means she can nurse again. It was too painful for her last night so she got milk in a sippy cup, and we all got a nearly sleepless night.

And we finally bought ice cube trays.

Pie Day on a leash

Quite a few things have come out of Braham, MN that the world should be happy about. Egg beaters were made there, the pooper scooper was invented there. I think that the best thing to come out of Braham is Braham Pie Day, although, I can image that if I had a dog the pooper scooper might move up on the list for me.

Braham was named the 'Homemade Pie Capitol of Minnesota' in 1991 by Governor Rudy Perpich (the very same guy who starter the Perpich Center for Arts Educaion, really was he an angel in disguise?) Since that proclamation Braham has held an annual one day pie festival in August. And it is great. I love it.

It was a wonderful day. And exhausting. Why? Mr. Not Hideous is the director of Pie Day, and me, I'm the secretary and co-coordinator for the Kids N' Berries tent. So, yeah, we were a little busy.

I spent the morning with Goosey in our Kelty backpack as I went between the hospitality room, Kids N' Berries tent, main stage, and the storage locker, all the while trying to remember to check the answering machine every half hour.

Mr. Not Hideous was unable to find himself a golf cart to borrow for the day, so instead he had the motorcycle out and was driving that up and down the length of the three block park. (He was definitely NOT hideous riding around all morning!)

The afternoon was a little less hectic, but still filled with stops to the stage, kids n' berries, talking with random craft fair vendors who showed up late and didn't know where they were supposed to set up, checking the answering machine, and running in to relatives from Oregon and Washington.

Mr. Not Hideous' Mom, Shopping Queen, was staying with us, so I could leave Goosey with her on my perpetual trips out of the apartment. Now, Shopping Queen loves Goosey. Absolutely adores her, but Goosey doesn't seem to have quite the same feelings for Shopping Queen. Every time that I came back into the apartment I was greeted by the sounds of Goosey crying. No matter how long I had been out. That was another reason I felt like I walked ten times faster than normal all day long.

On one of my walks between the apartment and the festival I ended up behind one of the other in town families with a young child. I have seen them around town a lot, and usually they have their daughter, E-R, in a stroller, but she has just learned how to walk. So instead of a stroller they had one of those monkey-backpack-leash things on her. It was the first time in my life that I have actually thought that the monkey-backpack-leash is an invention worth thinking about.

In the past, whenever I would see parents using leashes for their children my reaction was always the same. 'What sort of stupid parent would need to put a leash on their child?!! Can't they just teach their child to listen? Don't they know how to talk to their kids? Kids are not animals!!! I will NEVER be one of those parents! I will be aware enough to not use one, blah, blah, blah...'

After having spent months seeing E-R with her parents and watching her Dad out on walks with her, I have been humbled. He is a wonderful father, and has so much patience for little feet learning to walk and explore the world on a whole new level. I know that he has the capability to talk to E-R with respect and if anyone could figure out how to get their 16 month old to listen and walk out in public without a leash, I'm sure it would be him. So, I'm eating my thoughts, and apologizing to the countless parents who have given themselves a break and bought a monkey-backpack-leash thing.

Did I mention that I'm thinking about buying one of the monkey-backpack-leash things? Goosey is walking already, and I like her too much for her to have free reign over busy streets. Not to mention crowds where little feet have a way of finding all the small places to slip away.

So sorry for being a self-righteous twenty-something and thinking that my few years of life-without-child could magically know better.

I'm sure there will be some Pie Day when I will have the child on leash look going for me.

Questions for the Nosy

This meme is from Erin at Blogging is for Dorks, check her out, she's great. She made up these questions, go see her answers here.


1. Describe the person nearest to you, or if no one is near you at this moment the person who was last nearest to you, duh.
Goosey, my 9 month old daughter. Currently she is eating apple-strawberry puffs in her favorite summer outfit of diaper. She is just starting to walk, which means we had to purchase what I like to call the 'baby cage.' Not her favorite thing, but works wonders for keeping her from pulling books off shelves, torturing the cats, or making lots of noise directly above Mr. Not Hideous' massage room. (I don't think his clients want to hear Goosey sounding like an elephant while they are trying to relax, but maybe they think it's cute...)

2. Who do you think you resemble most in your immediate family and why?
As far as looks, my sister Storysmith. We have been asked multiple times if we are twins, she is actually two years older than me. I loved that question when we were younger, she didn't.

3. Who do you think (what nation, group or individual) is the biggest threat to our nation's security?
I think Americans are. Well, to be fair the ones who go about ostracizing other counties/peoples because they don't know any better. I think the world would view the States much differently if we were to extend our hands/ears and come up with some solutions together.

4. What do you do at night before you go to sleep? Do you have any rituals, usual behaviors?
This time of year I get into as little close as possible so as not melt into a puddle while sleeping.

5. What's the most challenging thing about being a parent? OR If you don't have children, what do you think will be the most challenging thing about being being a parent?
For me the most challenging thing is to not be so darn Minnesotan. We Minnesotan's have a tendency to 'not make waves,' which means we go along with things just because everyone else is. Being my Minnesotan self has shown up in motherhood when I have been out visiting people or making plans to do things. I tend to let nap times slide or give myself permission to sneak out of the action to take care of Goosey. I know that I do this and it makes things worse in terms attitudes and emotional stability. Imagine the chaos I'll create for myself when I have more than one baby! Eeek!

6. What do you think is your most attractive feature?
My eyes. But I am genuinely pleased with all my physical features, truly I am.

7. Who is your favorite blog friend? Link them!
I'm rather new to blogging, so no blog friends as of yet. But I do really enjoy Josie over at Sleep is for the Weak

8. Max just got in trouble for hitting Olivia in the throat. She's now sitting in time out screaming 'I'm STUPID!' at the top of her lungs. Should I ignore her till her time out is over, or should I talk to her now and ruin the time out?
Oh my, I don't feel like I have any experience to back up my thoughts on this one. I never once was sent to time out as a child, I don't know how the Hatlady, my mother, managed it as a single mom, but it never happened. I have worked with children of all ages in many different settings, but never in the capacity to put one in time out.

I would say 'This is time out and you need to keep your voice down,' and then at the end of time out talk to her about what saying 'I'm stupid' really means about her and what permissions she gives other people about her when she says it.

But that would be in a perfect world, I think I'd end up telling her to be quiet during the time out and not to call herself stupid.

9. Who was the first person you kissed and where are they now?
I think the first boy I kissed was Dan. We were in 7th grade and had lockers next to each other. I thought he was funny. We were both short (well, I don't know about him, but I still am) and all his friends thought it was cute and wanted us to kiss all the time. He was my first boyfriend, I was rather embarrassed. 7th grade is hard enough without having your boyfriend's friends trying to make you kiss all the time.

I think he's married now, but I haven't seen him since 10th grade.

10.Ok, here's the final crapola questionado: What's the grossest thing you've ever done or has ever happened to you?
When I was younger I got carsick a lot. If I had any ice cream before an hour long car ride you could bet that I would need to have the window cracked for fresh air and cold water to drink. Coincidentally this is the same amount of time it takes to get from the Hatlady's house to Traveling Man's, my dad.

On one such trip home from spending the weekend at Traveling Man's house we were a quarter of a mile from reaching the Hatlady's. I told Traveling Man that I didn't feel well and that he should pull the car over, and do it now. He thought we could make it. Guess what, we didn't. I vomited. Now, in my brilliance I didn't just vomit on the car or on myself, but I took my straw hat off my head (yes, straw hat) and vomited in that.

The Hatlady, the sweet hat wearing lady that she is, couldn't bring herself to throw out that straw hat. So, she cleaned it and kept it around the house for years. Yes, I do mean years. I think that only in the last five years or so that hat has finally disappeared. Whether it disappeared to the garbage can or the local thrift store I don't know.

Baby, please just sleep

Today is rough. It has been nap time here for the past hour and a half, or I guess I should say we've been attempting nap time for the past hour and a half. I just don't know what to do with Goosey. She wants my attention and cuddling for napping, but won't fall asleep. And I get upset. I get upset because I know she's tired and I can't help her. She won't let me. Or maybe I won't let me. Nap time is the one time during the day that I feel like I can't do anything right. So, Goosey is currently in her crib screaming at me to come and get her.

Nap time and bedtime have been the two things that have been the hardest in my house. Mr. Not Hideous and I made the mistake of letting Goosey fall asleep breastfeeding. And it has been a hard habit to break. Not for me, but for Goosey. Mr. Not Hideous and I started breaking this habit for the last two weeks. Which means that the crib is the currently the most hated spot for Goosey. We've created a bedtime routine and set up a nap schedule. Both have helped immensely. Until things like family from out of town, evening community center meetings, or Pie Day get in the way. Then its goodbye schedule, hello cranky, unwilling-to-nap-by-herself baby.

I let myself slide with nap time when other things happen because I want to have a semblance of my old life and way of doing things, so I only have myself to blame when we have bad days. I need to take responsibility for all this, I am the one home with Goosey trying implement nap times. I am half of the people who need to be an advocate for a little nine month old girl who can't advocate for herself. I need to grow up and let people know that nap time is off limits, and that I will NOT budge about that fact. I also need to let myself know that I do not have permission to let nap time slide. It's not fair to Goosey, Mr. Not Hideous, or me. I get cranky and crabby to be around, and it makes life miserable.

I have done some Landmark Education and I have identified my act and who I want to be instead of my act. My act, or the story that I have made up about myself and how life 'is' for me, is that I'm Alone. It was, and sometimes still is, how I lived my life. What I replace my act with is the possibility of unconditional love. That has not be present in nap time, especially not towards myself.

And, nap time, it just got a whole new look to it, and Goosey is finally sleeping. I think we just needed to clear some junk together. No, I just needed to clear some junk out of the way of truly loving myself and her.

In Landmark Education the training asks 'Who Are You?' to give the opportunity to declare who you are for the world.

Who Am I?

I am the possibility of Unconditional Love and Creativity! That is who I am!

Here I go...

Blogging? Should I? Shouldn't I? These have been some of the questions racing around my head lately. I've been reading so many delightful and insightful blogs recently it has got me wondering what I have to say and if it will be worth reading. I am most interested in chronicling my time with Goosey, my 9 month old baby girl; and finding some creative output for myself while I stay home with her. So, after a few days of musing and reading, I decided to just do it. (oh, Nike would be proud!)

I live in a small town in Minnesota; am married to Mr. Not Hideous, my massage therapist husband; have one baby, Goosey, and two cats Athena (Beanie, Beans, Teenie, Bean Burrito, etc) and Professor Fluffypants (Kitten, Fluffy One, Professor, etc). I am a modern dancer, and get to shake for some of my favorite choreographers, or at least I did before having Goosey and moving north. I also create visual art, my media of choice is oil pastels; I do it for the colors, for the deliciousness of contrast.

So, now I'll be shaking my fingertips and letting my mind wander. Please, wander with me.