A day of rest that includes a zoo visit






We played hooky from church (or the idea of going to church) and headed to the zoo. In Seattle we have to make plans regardless of weather forecasts, and luckily the rain held off while we explored a new section of the zoo. Potamus loved the penguins again, but really seemed to think the jaguar was the coolest.

After we got home it was naptime, and I was ready to try my hand at napping, too…about thirty minutes into my sunshine nap on the couch, Potamus woke up…so I punted.

The benefit of still nursing is that I still have this magical power of soothing. His nap had been truncated, so I transferred us to our bed, and BAM, we were out like a light for TWO hours. Holy hell it was amazing, and definitely fits the Sunday day of rest idea. Perhaps I need to embrace co-napping a little bit more!

Scatterplot Thoughts


What’s with zombies these days? These kids really wanted to play zombie with Potamus…


“the Titanic went down because of distraction. Other ships had been warning about iceberg-filled waters for days, but the Titanics captain changed courses only slightly and did nothing to slow the ship’s speed. When the radio operator received a call froma ship that was surrounded by ice- this was aless than an hour before the collision-he responded, “shut up, shut up, I’m busy.” By the time lookouts spotted the iceber ahead, itw as too late to slow the Titanic’s momentum.

Although over used, the Titanic is a chillingly accurate metaphor for our time. Distracted people don’t notice they are in danger. Rumi said, “Sit down and be quiet. You are durnk and this is the edge of the roof.” Margaret Wheately

Whoa, right? Why do I picture myself checking facebook on my phone while crashing my life into an iceburg? What can I do to steer off course? Is it too late? Have I been heeding the warning or yelling “shut up, shut up, I’m busy?”


It’s not about getting my old body back. I’m a mother now, I don’t want to go back. It’s about strengthening the body that I have.

I had that thought one night and posted it as a facebook status, getting a few likeminded and some non-likeminded responses. It’s not that I am advocating eating Domino’s pizza everynight for dinner. It’s about finding strength and beauty in who I am right now, not trying for an elusive past, because going back would mean not having Potamus. I’ve been doing some body love in the form of yoga, even an early morning venture on Monday when I had 4 hours of sleep and was crabby and wanting to call in sick. The sun salutations didn’t solve my migraine 5 hours later in full administrative mode, but it did help me get to work and not suck at life for a few minutes despite being exhausted.


Potamus is 16 months old and securely walking. Last night’s jaunt around the neighborhood (a good 1/2 mile loop) was mostly walked independently, with some moments of crawling and some moments of daddy picking him up (screaming…the kid that is…) to gain some forward movement in the journey homeward. So my kiddo is walking, but still the toothless wonder. Though I’ve started to see his one top tooth barely breaking skin, which means it’s going to be any day now that he’ll have a full set of teeth…sorta sad…I love that gummy smile!


It’s not just in adoption land where I get frustrated at a lack of medical history. Potamus has a double ear-infection that I got an appointment for last Wednesday. They’ve had to bump up the antibiotics because he’s been using the amoxicillian like it’s candy…but the new medicine caused vomitting. Turns out I had the SAME reaction as a kiddo. Thanks Mom and Dad for not letting me know…and my mom even said, “but you didn’t ask us if you had a reaction to it.” Um…yeah…because I’m supposed to know to ask…why didn’t you volunteer the information when I was talking about his countless ear infections and the medicine they were putting him on? Why? Because they don’t think about things like that, since growing up they got used to us not sharing any medical history with them. They forget that my son is biologicaly connected to me and is going to show some major traits that either I, or Boof, have.


Weekly mom meetups with two of my friends is HAPPENING! We did wine + chocolate last week, and this week we’re heading on up to Fremont’s Red Door for some lunch. I love being able to hang out with friends that became moms because we’re all in the same sleep-deprived boat. And there’s no drama. Drama is exhausting.



could my baby look any more like a BOY? sheesh. he’ll be driving next week…

Morning Sweet Pepper

Baby Sleep?

While this article isn’t written by me, it does feature my photo with Potamus!  I read all the major books on baby sleep — here is what I learned Which, is why I love Offbeat Families..it feels like I am really a part of the parenting community. Go read the funny article..stat!

Up. Down. Round and round.


Yogurt cracker snot barf does not make the car smell good. In case you’re wondering.




Oh hai Target!


we’re a badass mom and baby team

There are weeks where motherhood feels like it might kill me. I have been up at 4am this week with a fussy kiddo, and it turns out that it wasn’t just teething. Mother’s intuition wins again as I had to go round and round with Boof to convince him that Potamus was sick and it wasn’t just teething and that I wasn’t just trying to take a day off from work because of anxiety. Turns out he has a double ear infection and some sort of trouble breathing requiring a 1 dose steroid and an albuterol inhaler at night. And, because he’s had so many ear infections in his short life, we’re having him on a stronger antibiotic. Awesome.

Friday rolls around and I decide to get Mr. Fussy-pants out of the house, because I was going insane and he is way better when he can be distracted by shiny things. So we headed off to our rainy-day playground KidsQuest, and  I thought nothing of him occassionally coughing and sneezing in the backseat.

But yeah, let’s talk about how fun it is to clean up yogurt cracker snot barf…especially when it is pouring and I’m bent over the carseat with my buttcrack hanging out for all the world to see. Thankfully I had packed some extra pj’s, otherwise we’d have to have run naked baby into Target to get some replacement clothes. And I just didn’t want to deal with THAT humiliation. And yes I am the terrible mom who still brought her kid to the playground because he was feeling much better after the whole barfing incident. And, turns out, amoxicillian used to give me bouts of vomiting and diarrhea, too, so my parents think that he’s not sick…though he barfed and crapped through his jammies later in the day, and my hands and hair cannot quite get the smell of barf out.

So there were ups and downs and he went down for bed at 5:30pm and slept solidly until 11…not a norm for this week, so I’m hoping that he’s on the mend. And thankfully my parents are in town, so I get to sleep in…otherwise I might have spent the weekend crying into a bottle of wine…

How a beached whale connects to the Boston Marathon explosions…


We owe it to our children to be better stewards of the environment. The alternative? – a world without whales. It’s too terrible to imagine. Pierce Brosnan


Yesterday Potamus and I went on a pilgrimmage to see the beached whale that washed ashore on our hometown beach. I’m not sure why I felt compelled…was it because it was local? Because I heard stories of people from all around the area who made the trip and I thought, “why not me?” Was it to confront my fear of whales in the water head on? Was it to confront my fear of dead animals head on? Was it because I wanted to pay my respects to a creature whose life ended too soon by careless humanity? Was it to teach Potamus about being a “good steward” of the land and the circle of life?

Or, was it because a horrific scene was unfolding across the country and I was powerless to do anything about it? Because, as I drove down to the beach amidst the crowd, I felt like, in some small way, honoring this dead whale was paying tribute to all the life lost at the hands of careless and stupid and maybe-even-evil humanity.

And seeing the tail ripped jaggedly off it’s body, I thought of the marathon amputees splashed across the news. And the deep cuts in the whale’s side, like the shrapnel wounds from those two explosions. Maybe it’s wrong to compare an animal to the human lives that were lost or injured yesterday, but also…maybe not.

As I waded into the water and bore witness to the destruction of this endangered animal, I said silent prayers for those in Boston. I couldn’t show up to the marathon finish line, but I could show up at the beach in my hometown, and grieve for all that is sad and wrong with this world. And I stood with respectful bystanders: mothers and fathers sharing this animal’s death with their children, photographers looking for a good picture to display in their newspaper, security officers to protect the body from being desecrated, and First Nation indiviudals who seemed to be there for a witness of what we’ve done to their land and the spirit of the people (or maybe I’m reading WAY more into all of this?).

I felt like a part of my community as we mourned. And my prayers go out to those in Boston, and around the world, who are having to deal with sadness and death and destruction.





Hungry Mother

What are you hungry for?

What am I hungry for?

This thought floated up into my consciousness while making an impromptu trip to Fred Meyer for some vegetables and ended up with a cart full of…not so many vegetables as cookies and crackers. This was on the back of a conversation with a good friend about nutrition and feeding children and the abundance of choices that dumb us down so we can’t really understand what our body is trying to say about nutrition. Going to the store is overwhelming to me as an individual, but buying for a family with a small child feels nearly impossible. And then, going to a mega store, trying to remember the handful of nutritious recipes that I know, figuring out what I need to buy to execute those recipes. I get very distracted by the boxes of Nilla Wafers and Ritz Crackers. Because that just seems so much easier.

For the first time in months, cheese entered my grocery basket. I’ve been round and round in the past few weeks about re-introducing cheese into my diet. I don’t feel good about it, but I have to admit, I’ve been indulging in cheese all along. There’s been tortellini on an every-other-night basis with Potamus, and plenty of slices of pizza as we tried desperately to survive the accounting busy season. My lunches have been hungry fits that have left me standing wide-eyed in the cafeteria buying chicken strips and french fries to try and cure some craving. It felt like the time I worked with pregnant teens who said that if they had used protection it would have made them admit that they were premeditating sex. I’ve indulged in cheese and dairy by pretending to not pre-meditate it and giving in to the moment of starvation.

So, I’m buying cheese and using in moderation, and finding other wonderful options to try, as well. I picked up Daiya “meltable” fake cheddar shreds and it went fine in my omelet yesterday. I picked up some non-dairy sour cream for a stroganoff later this week. It’s like a grand experiment, but like anything, it’s easier to think when my belly is full, and that sandwhich I packed for lunch seems like I am more mindful and treading lighter in areas than buying that greasy fast food from the dining hall. Maybe that’s not the case, but it feels better to me, that I’m listening to what my body is telling me, rather than reacting out of survival mode.

Potamus is teething and the zucchini was a great tool for him to soothe his gums and get some new tastes in his mouth. He’s rejecting so many things (canned mandarin oranges, peaches, asparagus (he used to love it)), and I’m getting discouraged. The daycare says he can’t keep eating as much yogurt since he’s moving up to the waddler classroom soon. I try not to feel like a shitty mom, because I know that he’s really getting a lot of good nutrients from that yogurt since our pediatrician recommended it. This whole nutrition things is hard and frustrating and makes me want to eat a cookie.

I eat to feel something.

I eat to not feel something.

But what am I really hungry for? And what are you hungry for?

Sounders Saturday





We decided that the cold and rainy weather would not be conducive for a Sounders family outing, but Potamus and I went with Boof to the pre-game festivities at McCoy’s Firehouse in Pioneer Square. It was fun to feel a part of the revelry, but still make it back before the No-NapMeltdown! I look forward to warmer weather and an actual game-day, because Potamus looked so cute in his little Sounder’s jacket!

A Little Celebration!

Boof bought me flowers, to say Thank You for getting through the busy season with him. I said that he was the one who did all the work (who knew accounting could be so HARD with a kid), but he said that I did the work, being home late every night with Potamus and trying to juggle everything without him. Flowers to celebrate that the busy season is over and real-life can resume.

But I look at those flowers as a celebration, because, as of Monday, Boof is now employed as a full-time tax accountant! He proved himself a worthy seasonal accountant, so they’re keeping him on full-time! YAY! This means we can stop borrowing money from our in-laws, and can afford to take a breathe without the haunting past coming for us! It’s been a long year, but I am so thankful that we have gotten through it, together, and have proved to be stronger, closer, and a little bit  more thankful!


At what point does someone become considered a psychic? Or a medium? Or a fortune teller? And what point is it all just a big coincidence?

Because, some freaky shit’s been going on for awhile now, and I’m starting to wonder…

For example: I have, with 100% accuracy, predicted the gender of over 7 pregnant women in my life…including my own pregnancy AND a few people that I only know online. And two of those pregnancies I also predicted when their baby would be born.

And then there’s the matter of my mother-in-law. Last July I was heading with her to my best friend’s wedding. I cam to pick her up early and she said, “we have a few minutes, I’m going to go downstairs to put on my makeup.” As she was heading down the stairs I said, jokingly, “don’t dislocate your hip! We don’t have time for that today!”

She didn’t hear me, but about 5 minutes later she starts calling my name, and I rush downstairs finding her slumped over, hip dislocated, going in and out of consciousness. Yeah. Hip disolocated. Granted, she has a history of hip dislocation, but still, it was quite…uncanny.

It’s been 10 months, and grandma watches Potamus 2 days a week. We’ve been going along swimmingly, and then, last week I started to feel worried. Not my normal unfounded anxiety worry, it was something different. And I said, “I think you need to start carrying your cell phone with you, especially when Potamus is here, because I think you’re due to dislocate your hip.” Everyone laughed, but I was being serious.

And then, yesterday, at lunch with my sister-in-law, I said it again: “I’m worried about your mom. I think she’s going to dislocate her hip.”

Not 40 minutes after I pick up Potamus from her care, did I get the call that she had dislocated her hip and I was needed to let the firefighters/EMT’s into the house (they couldn’t find the spare key and she didn’t want them to break down the door).  When I talked to my sister-in-law, I just kept remarking about the fact that we had JUST discussed it earlier that day and that I was really concerned.

So what do I make of all of this? Are premonitions real? Is it just a coincidence? Because I have several more experiences like this, and they just seem so strange!

Thoughts? Have you ever had a premonition that has come true?