Dear Will: Month Nine

Dear Will,

I can't believe you're nine months old! Do you know what this means? You've now been in the world for as long as you were in my tummy. That's wild (and it makes me realize just how long you were cookin' in there)! You've continued your intellectual explosion this month. What have you been up to?

• Climbing on and in the dishwasher
• Looking under the corners of the kitchen rug (there's a rug pad under there! and the FLOOR!)
• Cruising from one piece of furniture to another
• Opening and closing doors to rooms/furniture/cabinets
• Standing, remarkably steadily, on your own
• Giving us your biggest grin when you see a bottle
• Eating Puffs (you're so good at it now - you "pincer grasp" like a pro!)
• Exploring the games in the bottom of the TV armoire, banging on the boxes, throwing the decks of cards, and mouthing the Catchphrase game
• Excitedly anticipating your bath as we fill the tub with water
• Playing with your LeapFrog musical table (so many sounds! and lights! and parts that move!)
• Trying to crawl out the front door anytime it's open
• Climbing and bouncing on the air mattress your Nana and Poppie slept on when they visited
• Racing into the bathroom to unroll all the toilet paper
• Clapping when we clap and when you're excited
• Bouncing on our laps to "Going to the mill with Julie in the clover" or "One... two... three... POP!"

You're a crazy little explorer. Maybe that's why I've been calling you Mister Monster lately! Everywhere you go, there's a path of mess and destruction. But I would not change it for the world. Your dad and I simply love to watch you learn as you grab and pull and throw and knock over everything you can get your hands on. We can see the wheels turning in your head and we know you're stacking each new experience on top of the last, creating a little mountain of knowledge in your brain.

Your verbal skills are increasing, too. You've been saying da-da-da-da and ma-ma-ma-ma for awhile, along with most other consonants (much to your Nana's delight), but you haven't mastered any clusters (much to your Grandma's dismay). You love to squeal and shriek when you're excited, whether your excitement comes from spotting Raleigh-dog (poor tormented guy) across the room or finding that mom and dad left the laptop within your reach on the coffee table. Your eyes get huge, and that mouth breaks into a wide-open grin while you bang your open palms on your legs, the floor, or the table. We simply love to see your sheer joy at discovering and interacting with your world.

You're sweet when you're sleepy or sad, too, Will. You've started reaching for us when you want to be picked up, and you'll crawl over to us and pull up on our legs if you're really determined to be held. Once in our arms, you clutch our necks and, when you're tired, rest your head on our shoulders. Oh, buddy, that makes me melt! I never like it when you bump your head or fall, but I do love scooping you up and comforting you, helping your tears disappear and your sobs turn to smiles. It is such a priviledge to be your mama, little one.

I'm reluctant to document this because it's so lame, but I think I've found my least favorite nickname for you. I've been calling you Mister Bister lately, and even though I despise the name, I can't seem to stop. Where did I even get that awful name? I have no idea.

I almost forgot! You took your first plane ride last month, to Jacksonville, Florida, for my cousin Reed's wedding. You were so cooperative on the plane rides, and the flight attendants oohed and ahhed over you, calling you a little prince. Your Nana was so sweet during that trip - she stayed in our hotel room with you while you slept so that your dad and I could go out to dinner both nights. I think she just likes being with you, even when you're asleep. I don't blame her. OH, and you got your first taste of sand there on the beach where the wedding was held. You did NOT like it! Your uncle Eric got some fantastic photos of the occasion, as first your pants and slowly your entire body got covered with that sticky, salty sand. You're such a trooper though, fella - once we got you rinsed off and fed, you were a happy camper again. As usual. You're such a joy, Will!

And, although this letter is quickly becoming ridiculously long, I can't not mention what a stinking adorable monkey you made for Halloween this year. You charmed the masses at our church's Trunk or Treat, where you ate banana Puffs and hung out in your zoo/jungle habitat. I think you especially charmed your dad, who has said several times that "Will in his costume in the back of the car was the cutest thing I've ever seen." High praise from a man who rarely uses superlatives!

Maybe charming is the best word to describe you in this last month, Will. Even though we experience our share of frustration when you play in Raleigh-dog's food bowl despite our "no, Will"s or overturn the basket of remotes and wooden games for the 2,217th time, you charm us so deeply with those grins and giggles that our days seem golden and blessed. And they are.

Here's to another fantastic month with you, little man!
Love,
Your mom

How To: Creamy Tomato Pasta

 Here's my first attempt at a how-to post. Oh glory, my appreciation for Ree and Nester and some of those super-talented photographers and bloggers shot up about 30282% after trying this tonight. Before I dive in, I learned a few things. 1) Clean your kitchen. 2) Make sure your camera has a charged battery. 3) Better yet, go out and buy a fancy camera with a nice big lens and some actual manual settings. 4) Charge your new camera's battery. 5) Get someone to help you. It's pretty hard to take a picture of yourself pouring a pot of pasta into a colander when you're already using both hands. Even with this recipe, which is ridiculously easy, I had a time keeping it going and getting the photos taken.

So, with that out of the way, here's how to make creamy tomato pasta.

Don't laugh. This is really lame compared to those real blogs!

Start by filling a pot with water, for the pasta. Oops, I got carried away tryign to take pictures, and the pot got too full. Dump out the extra water, then put the pot on the stove, on high.

On high, I said. Maybe the first step should be: clean your kitchen until it passes the flashlight and white glove test. I honestly thought this knob was clean. How embarassing. Please learn from my humiliation.

Next, put a new 12" nonstick saute' pan on your Christmas list. Get out your old one, and get it on the stove, on medium.

Why does that back burner look blue? I don't have an infrared stove. I swear it looks red in real life.

Get your hardware and software ready.

I like to slice off the root and top of the onion, then cut it in half, pole to pole.

Then slice it thinly. OOPS... forgot to salt the pasta water. I like a lot of salt.

Back to the thinly sliced onions. In the pan they go, with the hot oil. Did I forget to tell you to heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil? Oops. You can call me Julia. You don't want to miss the aroma of warming olive oil. You wouldn't have gotten that in a photo, anyway.

You really don't want these cooking any hotter than medium - you want them to sweat, not saute'. No browning. Only getting soft and translucent. Sizzling is good... onions jumping, popping, and hopping is not.

These are looking good.

Yeah... delicious. I like tender, but with a tiny bit of bite left. So delicious to get that soft crunch with the velvety cream and the falling-apart tomatoes. Mmm.

Add a 28-ounce can of crushed tomatoes.

And a 14-ounce can of petite diced tomatoes. What, you can't tell the difference between the two types of tomatoes? Here's where that fancy camera with the big nice lens and the manual settings makes a difference.

Let the tomatoes come to a simmer. By the way, don't bother trying to drain the petite diced tomatoes. You can try... but it's not worth the effort.

Once the tomatoes are bubbling, add your basil. Yeah, yeah, I prefer fresh basil cut in a gorgeous chiffonade too, but I keep this frozen stuff on hand.

But for guests, definitely do the fresh. This frozen tastes pretty good, but nothing can beat the beauty of the ribbons of basil in the creamy pink finished sauce. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I put about six cubes in there.

Time to check the pasta! It's not quite done yet. (I tasted it. You didn't want a picture of me chewing, did you?)

Ha. That pasta looks tiny. It is! I tried that Piccolini pasta. It was on sale, and I had a coupon... but it does look kind of goofy in my big spoon.

Next up, check on your kid. He's trying to get into the dog food bowl.

Pasta's done! This is where I wanted the gorgeous photo of the pasta and water pouring voluptuously into the colander... but I don't have that many hands. Here's what you get.

Have your husband make the salads. Here's the soux chef prepping the tomatoes. With a steak knife. On a plate. (sigh) But I did not say a THING, I assure you.

If you're a meat-a-tarian like my husband, you need some chicken in your pasta. So nestle your leftover grilled chicken into the sauce so it can get warm.

Oh wait! I forgot a photo of adding the cream. Bummer. That's one of the prettiest parts of the recipe - the white cream gradually mingling with the crimson tomato sauce and finally turning the whole affair a pale coral color.

Get the salads on the table. You can't really tell, but Brit's salad is about three times the size of my salad. And his tomatoes are on the bottom. Go figure. Again... not a word!

Here's the final product: Creamy Tomato Pasta. It's easy, easy, easy. But it has a comforting, elegant flavor that makes a weeknight feel special.

Creamy Tomato Pasta

1 onion, sliced thin
2-3 T Extra virgin olive oil
1 28-oz can crushed tomatoes
1 14-oz can petite diced tomatoes
3 T fresh basil chiffonade (or equivalent frozen/dried amount)
1 cup heavy cream
1 lb. pasta
Chicken, if desired
Salt and pepper

Enjoy!

Wonderfully Normal

Life is wonderfully normal. Not that we don't have our minor struggles at the moment, but for the most part, things are moving along swimmingly. (Warning... normal is pretty boring. Read at your own risk, lest you doze off.)

We're in the process of changing banks. We earn more cash back with our new credit card and it doesn't have some of the annoying fees that our prior one did. Our new bank also reimburses us for fees we incur at ATMs, so we can use any ATM without paying $3.50 for it. I love that. Even so, the process is annoying. Brit pays our bills online, and some are automatically drafted/paid, so reworking those is kind of a pain. And certain recurring charges (like my annual college alumni association dues) are getting kicked back because they were tied to our old credit card... so I'm having to think more about those things than I really like to (read: look at statement and see that they were paid. Done.). I think it'll be worth the hassle, though, when the transition is finished.

We bought our airfare for my week-long 30th birthday extravaganza in... Las Vegas! Hooray! We're only planning to be in Vegas for a day or two. Then we'll spend some time at Red Rock Canyon and the Grand Canyon, among other locations. But I'm really looking forward to seeing a couple of shows and doing some fine dining. I love traveling with Brit! We make our trips into adventures - taking the back road, finding the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, hiking the longest trail. Except for lodging. I like to end our question-mark-filled days with the certainty of a clean, comfortable hotel room.

I'm going to miss the Mister!

We're going to leave him in our hometown where both of our parents live. We'll figure out the details later (or maybe we'll just let them hash it out), but we figured they could share the joy of keeping him for a week - and still have a life, since they can pass him back and forth when they have things to do. I think it will be very sweet time for them. It'll be crazy leading up to that week - we're planning to host a big first birthday party for Will in Greensboro on Saturday and then drive to Raleigh to catch our flight to Vegas on Sunday - but I know it will be a blast.

We're already preparing. I'm now only nursing in the morning and at night. It was a bear getting comfortable with this setup - I had several weeks of agony where I tried to coerce my body to produce more milk. It just wouldn't. I guess I didn't anticipate what a tremendous difference my regular hormones would make, both on my milk supply and on my emotions, but they really wrecked both. Finally, gradually, I got more comfortable with the idea of Will on formula during the day. And now, I'm really okay with it. I certainly wish I could still give him milk exclusively, and I would if I could. But it's SO nice not to have to pump at work! Anyway, I don't seem to have quite enough milk for him at our 6a.m. feeding, so I'm drinking some herbal tea and taking a little fenugreek to see if I can build it back up just a tad. If not, we may try to drop that feeding altogether. But my goal is to continue the 6a.m./6p.m. feedings until Christmas. Then, we'll definitely work on weaning... I am NOT taking my pump to Vegas!

What kind of health insurance do you have? Do you like it? I'm considering a switch to my company's high-deductible health plan for next year. The premiums are so much less than the PPO premiums. And according to the calculator my company set up, I could come out better on the HDHP. A lot better - to the tune of around $3,000 for the year. I'm still nervous about it, though. I know a lot about how these plans work (thanks to my career), but I still like the comfort of going to the doctor and knowing it won't cost me too much. Even so... having Will this year cost us about $2,000 out of pocket - not counting the premiums for the more expensive health plan. Truly, there are no easy answers to the ridiculously high costs of health care. It makes me very grateful that we're as healthy as we are.

I'm thinking about doing a couple of how-to posts... more like spoofs than anything, because I think they may be dorky. Like, I was considering one on my daily makeup regimen. Or a ridiculously simple recipe. Or maybe a home improvement project? What's something around the house that you'd like to know how to do? If I know how to do it, I'll tackle that. I've just been so inspired by a few of the cooking blogs I follow (and one of the organizing blogs). If only I had a fantastic camera that would let me take photos as beautiful as Pioneer Woman's.

Long post - brain dump! Only two days until Will is NINE MONTHS OLD! Oh, I can hardly believe it. My stomach actually just turned a little. Actually, that might have just been the herbal tea...

Hello, Future Me

I realized something today. About my relationship with Xanga.

I bet you have a feeling about what I'm going to say. It seems a lot of people are having these struggles. To continue with Xanga, or not to continue. It can be such a big committment of time. We question our motives... What do we write? How do we find the time to respond to our friends' posts? For that matter, should we be pursuing real life relationships instead of online ones - with people we may never meet? What's the point? Why do we write?

I've been writing less over the last few months. I have a very curious, very mobile baby. I now share an office, so I feel awkward writing during breaks in my workday. Facebook has given me an outlet to share photos with my family and friends who aren't on Xanga.

And yet, I think I've forgotten the reason I got into Xanga in the first place. Before I made my first "bloggy friend," I wrote for my future self. Because daily life is full of beauty and blessings, but they slip the memory so fast. And because mistakes made and lessons learned are only useful if they're remembered. And because God's providence is most apparent in hindsight. I named my blog "Forgetting Myself" after the reason I began it... so I can remember the myself I was, and enjoy her recollections, and learn from her perspective.

That's not to say I haven't enjoyed and grown from the relationships I've gained through Xanga in huge, amazing, life-changing ways. You guys are so wonderful, and I have talked about the things I've learned from you to my husband, my co-workers, and my Bible Study members. You've made me think, cry, cheer, and laugh. I thank God for you!

And I hope you'll continue to read my blog, because I'm going to keep writing for Future Me. I feel refocused - I've remembered my purpose for blogging. I can't promise it'll be fascinating or educational or satisfying or even remotely funny, but I'll be here!

...And if I may leave a final note for those who have already stopped blogging on Xanga or who are considering ceasing... I'll miss you! But I totally get your choice, too. Thank you for being part of my life - I count you as a blessing.

My Monkey Baby

My baby is a monkey. Isn't he cute?

He lives in a monkey habitat at the zoo.

Which he loves to chew on.

But what he really prefers are banana Puffs!