entirely uninteresting unless you've been there too

if money grew on trees, or jon was a doctor, this is the stroller i'd be a complete idiot over. but seriously isn't she a beaut. completely infant to toddler capable, light weight, sporty, oh and yes, almost $1000. for about two months now i've been perusing craigslist, not too terribly serious, but wanting to know and see what's out there, if this is out there. so far, it's not. i'm also keeping my fingers crossed i come across a stellar infant car seat at a great price. i don't want to buy another shitty eddie bauer/graco-esque infant carrier for $50 only to be bargained down to sell it for $5 at my next yard sale; conrad was only in his for a few months, and i mean a few. i know some people get six or nine months use out of theirs but my little guy was so long that it was either face the roundabout (which i venture to state, that by the time we retire it-it will have been worth the $220 we paid for it) backwards or secure his legs to the back of the headrest with some fishing twine.

who knows though. this next one could be much more timely with his growth spurts and i could actually rationalize buying a new, poor quality, not worth the price tag, car seat. he could also cry all night, he could hate my breast milk, he could like being swaddled, and he could demand being carried instead of pushed.

conrad was such an easy going, awesome baby that i feel like i'm a first time mom all jittery with not knowing what to expect.

like what sort of double stroller i'll finally come to reality with.

Pregnormous

you've seen those shows where the kid wakes up crying from a bad dream and the mother rushes in and wipes the tears and calms the fear with a soft voice and song, then you know she usually lays in bed with the child and the two of them fall asleep next to one another in the most enduring of ways.

well i bet that mom wasn't pregnant, because if she was she would have been me last night-just too darn pregnormous to lay in a toddler bed without the sounds of wood chips splintering at the notion of holding my weight.

i am getting huge. it no longer matters what i wear, how i wear it, i just feel whale-like. and the sad part is, i still have 2 more months to go. no longer can i go down without letting out groans as i attempt to raise my body back up, or walk without slightly waddling, or wash my hands in a public restroom without getting a line of water across my shirt. and everywhere i go, everyone i meet, wants to know when i'm due, what i'm having, how many is that for me, have i picked out a name, who my ob is; informing me about the trials of having two so close in age, how wonderful it will be for them when the get older, and so on and so on. of course, such inquiry is nice, but it is still none the less small talk, and i hate small talk. i'm constantly fighting the urge to be inappropiate, to answere a question with a reply that makes the person extremely uncomfortable and me exteremly amused.

alas, this is my third trimester, and at least i have a month or so before the "you like your going pop" comments become a subsitute for casual salutations and i can no longer do things like shave my legs without falling over in the shower. though for the time being, and on, it does little for those middle of the night norman rockwell/full house images i'd like to re-inact.

there in brookings, oregon, a small town on the coast of the pacific, jon pointed this sign out to me,"a day at the beach is worth a month in town".

the day before our sunday spur of the moment road trip i had been cursing the northwest-muttering obscenities, self loathing my existence as i laid on the coach, wishing to be elsewhere, dumbfounded why so many adored this place i hated. then sunday afternoon, with jon at the wheel and conrad asleep in his car seat, pushing down 101, with the great blue pacific ocean in front of me and cliffs covered in moss and ferns and azalea bushes and purple irises to the side of me, behind me, around me, my heart began whispering sweet nothings of the wonderful northwest landscape to my mind, and at hearing it i chuckled. how easily the heart can change when provided the proper element.

we began this mini-vacation late sunday morning. the day before had been a beating, a beating in boredom, so jon and i both agreed even though gas prices were $4.00 a gallon (and more along the way. like $4.33!), and we shouldn't be spending money on anything not on the List, not to mention, the forecast swore it was going to be nothing but showers and a high of 58 practically everywhere in oregon, that we absolutely needed to go somewhere. and after tossing around places in the 3 hour drive range, we decided on the coast. i packed a suitcase not even sure if we would stay overnight but just in case.

our first stop was the Redwood National Forest. my absolute favorite place on earth, apart from that place on a massage table. there is something about said forest that sends my imagination into a wild frenzy, as if a magical book had just opened and i was swallowed into the pages. it is a sight to behold: trees the size of skyscrapers making a green canopy overhead and the ground, which periodically swoops down creating a sharp crevice, all covered in lush ferns and giant clovers. there in that enchanted place we stretched our legs, i peed behind a redwood, and conrad turned a giant stump into a playground.

but on we pressed to the water, and by the time we arrived conrad, who had been incessantly repeating Be, Be, Be (that is for beach) for the past two and a half hours, had fallen asleep. in that moment we had a choice: 1.) stop, wake up conrad, and play in brookings-possibly stay the night but possibly go home later, or, 2.) keep tugging and drive 90 more miles to bandon- another great coastal town- get a hotel, and spend the following day introducing conrad to things like tidal pools, clam chowder, light houses, and panoramic views.

jon and i both being road trip junkies and enjoying reminiscing the trips we took to the coast when dating, we kept driving. and had it not been for life making adults out of us in the past few years, i venture to say, we probably would still be driving this afternoon-on our way to british columbia.

like times past, we drove straight down to the pier to tony's crab shack. but unlike in times past, after seeing how much they hiked the price on crab, we opted to forgo the crab experience and instead get conrad a grilled cheese and chowder. from the pier it was to the Be, and from the Be to a best western across from the ocean.

*by the way, i accidentally stumbled upon a trip saver tip and saved $50 when i honestly expressed to the front desk clerk our inability to fork over the amount she had informed me a room would be. not too shabby.

settling into our room i discovered i had forgotten pajamas, warm clothes for the next day, and toiletries. conrad was set. jon was set. but me, as a mother, i'm finding i do this alot: forget about me. that night was a long night: conrad had woken up at 3am and wanted in bed with me ( i choose a room with two queens so conrad could sleep with one of us while the other still got sleep if that was the way the cards played, and it did). but sleeping with a toddler is a play on words, and sleeping in a dress in a bed you can't stop wondering how clean the sheets really are and what the escape plan will be if the tsunami siren goes off and ohmygoshiwishicouldbrushmyteeth, isn't sleep at all.

walking out of our hotel room and being greeted with a salty coolness in the air, the gentle sounds of the early morning waves in the distance, and the sight of conrad walking in front of me with his one arm swinging like an eager soldiers gun, i was immediately revived.

memorial day was spent doing all those Things we had hoped to introduce conrad to. logistically, it was an unnecessary expense. but holding hands on the beach with my husband and child, it gave meaning back, and memory forward.

behind him is the ocean.

lighthouse, port ortford.

climbing up in the lighthouse.

fog on the hills, smith river.

jon throwing rocks in for conrad's amusement.

conrad in front of our hotel room in bandon.

morning on the beach, barefoot.

ah, this one warms my heart: hand in hand.

one to compare.

we had just CLEANED out my car before the trip
so conrad and jon clean the sand off their feet before getting in.

lovely.

yes, that is conrad torturing a poor little sand shrimp.

so PNW.

on the dock in bandon.

$18 will get you the tastiest, freshest crab your mouth has ever had the priviledge of knowing.

this made me just a little nervous.

yet here we are.

climbing the rocks was conrad's preferred beach activity.

the giant stump in the Redwoods.

and the base of the tree.

this month's Forget Me Not's:

1. conrad being able to count from 1-5 on his fingers. albeit, 3 looks exactly like 4, and well, 2 is 2 index fingers instead of index and bird. still, this ability to count on his fingers is a growing indication of him truely grasping the concept of counting. he is even beginning to mimic my little counting game where i place different things like the blueberries on his tray in a 1,2,3,4,5 sequence, or count out things that are the same in books.

2. he put on shoes all by himself this week, which is something he has done for a month or so now, but this week after he had them on he proceeded to strap the velcro down too. my life is getting easier by the shoe.

3. he is also able to take off his clothes and semi put them on by himself. semi because he seems to often hit a hurdle when it comes to getting his pants over the bulging diaper in the back and finding the right hole for his head. i should omit socks from this achievement. we are nowhere close to being coordinated or patient enough for that one yet.

4. this month we took down the railing on his crib and converted it into a toddler bed. it's been such an easy transition, much easier than both jon and i imagined it would be. the routine is not as cut and dry as it once was-nap time has become Destruction Time in his room, though after pulling all his toys and books off the shelfs and the diapers from the hanging dragon, he always climbs back into his crib and for the next two hours silence falls in his room as he sleeps amongst the heaps of books in his bed.

5. ah! the slow fading of my toddler buddah! yesterday, to my complete and utter suprise, i witnessed him yank his favorite toy train from another childs hands. and when i confronted him about how we take turns, it was quite obvious he knew what he had done and he didn't really care i disapproved.

6. words!!!! all sorts of them. all sorts that sound nothing like the word itself. but he is finally trying, and every now and then he freakin nails it, sending me into applause and enthusistic laudations.

7. hugs and kisses and HI's and sharing his juice with my tummy. there is no question about it: conrad understands that there is a baby in my tummy, and he loves the idea of it. after seeing a mother coddle a very tiny one out and about yesterday, he has know began to walk around the house doing the same with his elmo and teddy bear. i know he is going to be an awesome big brother.

8. thomas the train has completely over-hauled elmo's reign of terror on our television. it's "chu-chu-chu" time all the time, and i'm very close to the edge because of it.

9. the emergence of wrestling grunts, giggling at his own farts, screaming in unison with other kids on the playground, going down the big slide by himself, climbing those vertical monkey bar things that they put on playgrounds to give we parents near heart attacks, loving ring around the rosies a bit too much, demanding unreasonable particularities, and being silly for attention.

better for you than fries

in the parking lot of a mom and pops outdoor store right off west main street stands erect a twenty foot poorly crafted black bird. fittingly the store is named Blackbird and it is the sort of place you go when your covered in poison ivy and am jonesing for a giant bottle of Acnu, or your on your way out of town and forgot the water filter for your three day hike into the vast wilderness of southern oregon. every few months you can find a handful of workers changing out the blackbirds attire: during spring when medford comes a buzz with the impending annual Pear Blossom Run he sports a yellow marathon vest with the numbers 1111 on the back; in winter his beak is covered in a stringy white santa beard, and when fall rolls back around i venture to assume he will once again be in his halloween witch costume with a pumpkin under his wing. his changing attire is a visual calender, and i'm always amped when i drive by and find him holding his 10 foot fishing pole, for i know that can only mean one thing: the bird knows summer is practically here.

not that i need such a remainder anymore- this weekend we experienced a record breaking heat wave which resulted in rosy cheeks and stinky armpits all over the valley. but today cheeks and pits are back to normal. a tad overcast occasionally spilling chasms of sunlight onto the surrounding hills bursting with that florescent green only found in spring and a traffic light; with fields drowned in yellow and purple wild flowers driving from A to B is a lesson in colors and botony.

i've stopped to think what i'm writing about....birds. summer. colors. surely not.

maybe an introduction into the culture of medford, oregon where we decorate parking lot eye sores based on seaons and 5ks.

i had things to share. like the story out today about the creator of nysnc and backstreet boys who has been sentenced to 25 years in prison. well not the story itself, but the picture of the guy responsible for envisioning such a circumstance that could send little girls into a feverish frenzy. a peevishly looking older man with a fat face and a look in his eyes that reminded me one of one of those characters in a tv drama about a child sex offender. i found the discovery to be highly amusing and unsettling.

and about american idol. how for the life of me i could think of nothing else last night but the ungodly amount of eyeliner ryan seacrest had on. oh! and about the "2007" line randy had that NOBODY seemed to catch. or maybe care. except me because i find such verbal blunders to be quite hilarious no matter what night of american idol it is, or if i'm in church and it's an alter call.

there is the story of conrad powdering his entire room while he was suppose to be napping. if i was thinking and not laughing out a lung at the time i surely would have taken a few pictures to post here. but time is pressing me to do a few things productive before that curious little man of mine wakes from his nap and demands i do everything he seems fit for me. even if that means mommy sit here and look that way, no that way, a tad more to the left. perfect. i love his crazy antics and exercises in dictatorship.

i dreampt last night we named the baby Roman. this dream comes after another dream i had a month or so ago where we named him Trevor-two names i hadn't thought of until i woke up the next morning from dreaming it. jon dismissed Trevor immediately on the basis he has known a few doosh bags named Trevor, but Roman he pondered with while walking out of the backdoor this morning, coffee in hand.

i also dreampt he, being jon obviously, wanted to have sex with the chic from Father of the Bride, and i was like, whatever as long as i can have sex with Kelly Rippa's hot hubby. something else i hadn't thought of till i woke up from dreaming it.

i wonder if he's wearing pleather pants to coordinate with that shirt?!?