The Wordmistress

Mary Poppins Ain't Got Nothing On Me

Mia's birthday party was a smashing success and boy did she rake in the goods. Our friends are very generous souls and gifted us with many lovely toys, gadgets, books and outfits. Mia was like a kid in a toy store. Literally. It was a ton o' fun. I did my best to clean up the apartment then put Baby to bed. She seemed like she had a great time. We are definitely blessed to have such wonderful friends and family.

Soon I will be off to dreamland.

Please. Do not confuse this with Neverland.

Such a Thing as Too Much

Since Mia hit the sack at around 7 tonight, I've been pulling a Martha Stewart (minus the finance fraud) and the results have been fairly mediocre. Mia's birthday is tomorrow and I wanted to make my famous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, a doggie cake and prepare homemade pizza to pop in the oven.

Well, I made the cookies and this time, not so famous. But they are still chocolate chip cookies so I think they'll do. Then the cake.

Didn't turn out exactly how I wanted it to, but I think it's okay. The pizza? I guess that's where I reached the end of my tether. Couldn't do it. I think I'm all domesticated out. So it's a quick phone call and voila! Someone will bring me pizzas! Right to my door.

Too much kitchen for Robin. But the good news is that the house is pretty clean and I've got everything a gal needs to throw one fine little bash for a fine little lady.

Have a nice night y'all.

One Way or Another

I've been trying to avoid the pitfalls of Barney (yeesh) and other assorted sundry and scary commercial beasts in the raising of Miss Mia. This has included staying away from parent-in-a-box places that charge you and arm and a leg to do what you can probably do for free in your own home. Case in point: Gymboree. Gymboree is the millenium's answer to playgroup, an offshoot of a successful clothes store (or is the clothes store an offshoot of the playgroup?). At any rate, Mia and I have been happily attending good old Chicago Park District playgroup for the past 8 months and really liking it so I thought we didn't need that yuppie shit. But today, I wondered ... well, do we?

They offer free preview classes and so we signed up and attended one today. It was filled with what I feared: parents in khaki, Barneyesque songs and a dancing clown named Gymbo. But Mia was stoked. She partied like it was 2020! So a mother torn. And a mother called. Yes, I'm certainly not shelling out the bucks for this but my mom is just enough into this kind of stuff to go for it. Sure enough she thinks it might be a good idea.

I haven't decided yet, but I've got to start standing firm. Otherwise all my rules will be broken and my house will be overrun with Barbies, toy guns and Raffi.

Unusual and Cruel

In an effort to keep the little one entertained, I took Mia to the Chicago Botanic Garden in Glencoe. They were having a Rein-dog Parade as part of a holiday celebration and I thought, well, Mia loves dogs. She'll probably love this.

Yes, I had reservations. I do not think it is a nice thing to dress up your dog. We watched the Westminster Dog Show on TV yesterday and though it is not as funny as Best in Show, my heart was warmed by Mia's squeals of delight. (Squeals rock.) I guess that why my judgement was so cloudy when I decided this was a good idea.

Weathered the traffic out to Glencoe all right, but the parking took at $9 bite out of my already strapped funds. The parkingmaster read us a list of warnings before taking our money: you have to wait 15 minutes, there's an additional charge inside, then the reindog parade begins. Okay, yeah, I know, I said but I began to feel trepidation.

The event was very badly planned and we stayed out in the snow a long time and never really did get to see any semblance of a "parade." Mia was not amused. Worse yet was when I put her back in her carseat, she cried bloody hell and did not let up. Mia is not a crier so I worried. The only other time she ever did this was when my friend Jake looked at her, but that's another story. (Sorry, Jake!) I started back to Chicago with her whimpering, worried that something might be terribly wrong. About five miles into our highway drive, I put her hat on over mine and she cracked a little smile so I figured she'd make it till we got home but all in all the outing was a bust.

Verdict: Suburban events where people dress up dogs-- Bad Idea Jeans.

Crisis Averted

It was way tasty too.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Stopped Up

Crisis One. I was so prepared. Last night I made the best yams (Maple syrup and brown sugar. Try it!) And I made an awesome cranberry sauce and amazing cranberry pie. Then I peeled the carrots. I cleaned the house and thought, great, everything is so ready for tomorrow! Then the sink freaked out. It started a-bubbling and a-grumbling, next I knew it was spewing bloody carrot carcass back at me for Pete's sake. Now I've got a sad, sad sink of standing water. And here's what makes matters worse.

My landlord thinks I'm a pain in the ass. Okay, put on your Judge Wapner hats. In the time I've been here, there's been two floods. In my apartment. Last year, they told me that they would be working on my bathroom in the month of October. I told them fine, as long as they were out by my due date in December. Suffice to say they WERE IN MY BATHROOM WHEN I CAME BACK WITH THE BABY IN DECEMBER!! Last month my refrigerator started leaking water all over the floor. I hate calling them as much as they hate hearing from me. I think I'm just a tenant. They think I'm a high maintenance. So, they're coming this morning, Thanksgiving morning, to fix it. I hope. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much.

But man, those yams are yummy.

Turkey with Gravity

Last Thanksgiving I weighed 70 pounds more than I do now, Mia was two days from being born and I was a raging bitch. My parents, my brother and I ate dinner at a Polish buffet and I scarfed down plate after plate of potato pancakes. Then in the car my brother and I fell into adolescence. I didn't know it'd be the last time.

Ever since we were little, Ross would accuse me of hauling out this self-satisfied smile when we were fighting. I'd flatly deny it and both the smile and the act of denying the smile would drive him crazy. Most of the time he was very calm with me, but this would enrage him. I'm still not sure if I knew I was smiling or not. But it happened whenever we fought.

When we got older, we didn't fight as much. But sometimes, especially in close family situations, we'd fall back into sibling warfare. Heavy with child, raging with hormones, I couldn't help it. Either I started it or he did (probably me), but we were back to grade school. In fact, even though I had begged Ross to come to Chicago for Thanksgiving he drove back to Milwaukee that night with my folks. I was still at least a week from my due date and, hell, we had the rest of our lives, right? Shit.

Two days later, when Ross was still in Milwaukee with my parents and my birth partner Dan (who was staying with me from Amsterdam) was in Milwaukee with his parents, I went into labor. I called my other birth partner, Fran, and she and her husband took me to the hospital. Despite a team of nurses who did not believe my claims of impending childbirth ("Do you have a low pain tolerance?"), I gave birth to Mia about nine hours later. Fran and Dan helped deliver, Fran cut the cord. Ross listened on the other side of the door was one of the very first people to see my daughter.

That was the last time I saw Ross alive. Thanksgiving weekend 2002. Mia's birthday weekend. My daughter's first birthday party is this Sunday. When I tell people about the party, they say: Mia wasn't born near Thanksgiving. Er, yes she was, I say. No, she was born in December, they say.

Yes. December 1. Thanksgiving weekend.

I'll never forget.

Be Careful What You Wish For

or Who's The Real Turkey?

Well, I made a big deal about cooking Thanksgiving dinner for my family and now here I am, on the cusp of making Thanksgiving dinner. I think I'll do a good job, but it's just like me to sign up for something I've never done before and believe I can do it.

Thing is, I'm pretty sure I can.

I'll let you know the e. coli count tomorrow.

The Agency Redux

Today I freelanced back at the advertising agency that laid me off two and a half years ago. It was actually quite fun. When I first lost my job, I was really angry at them. After working there six years, I guess felt they owed me something ... yadda yadda ... long story short, had I not lost my job I'd have never got knocked up and never had Little Miss Mia by my side. I learned a lot working at there, but frankly when I got canned, it was time for me to go. I needed a break. What I did not need, however, was to go broke. Luckily work has definitely picked up these days. (Give me a whoop and a holler, Robin's got the power!) I liked being at the agency today. Still have some old, great friends there. It felt very natural. Like an old boyfriend that broke up with you, but you just have to sleep with him every so often. Something about the chemistry.

Monkeying Around

Yesterday we went to the Farmer's Market at the Lincoln Park Zoo and while we were there we visited the monkey house. The white-cheeked gibbons were very friendly. They were true monkeys in the cartoon sense, playing, "aping", scratching under their arms. Mia had a ball. To my dismay, the lemurs were less cooperative.