the walston street journal

Time to adjust your sets.

2005-07-17T15:35:00.000-07:00

The Walston Street Journal has, as of today, been officially retired. All current content will remain here indefinitely, but if you want the latest and greatest on all things Walston, you will need to mosey on over to the new and improved blogging experience now known as walscapades.com

I thank you all for your continued readership and look forward to seeing and hearing from you soon.

What I did on my summer vacation.

2005-07-12T13:27:00.000-07:00

I had honestly planned to continue posting throughout the remainder of the trip, but found myself quickly losing any kind of inspiration. There was plenty going on and plenty worth mentioning, but each time I sat down to write I found myself incessantly leaning on the backspace key. Being back in the land of mc-mansions and shiny gargantuan SUVs and endless sprawl and oppressive heat seemed to suck me into some sort of mediocraty vortex, wherein I couldn't express a coherent thought that didn't include the word 'duhhhh.' It has taken me this long to even want to turn the computer on, let alone be inspired enough to put word to page.

So here we are, back in the land of moderate temperatures and consumptive isolation. Ahhhh. Can you hear it; the sounds of hippies begging on the plaza and the smells of methamphetamine cooking on our neighbor's stoves? Home sweet home.

In reflecting back on our week abroad, I feel it is high time to give a huge shout out to the shortest member of the family (no, not me) and let it be known that I can actually recognize how truly amazing our daugher can be. Although it wasn't our intention, we - over the course of 10 days- committed parenting atrocities on such a deep level that, had we not on the lam, moving locations approximately every 48 hours, the authorities would have surely tossed our sorry-asses into the bad-parent wing of the local pokey.

It started with our insistence that while en-route, stopping the car at anything less than a 4-hour stretch was just plain unnecessary. It was only after, oh, say, about the FIFTH outfit change that we realized the precise limit of a disposable diaper. If anyone has seen how much those suckers hold you will understand the extent of our dense skulls. It was shocking that she only ended up with one diaper rash -- and that was after we left a poopy swim diaper on her for the better part of a day. I think that time, I may have actually heard the sirens off in the distance as they sped toward our location.

Next up was our insistence at resetting her circadian rhythms. Her daytime nap commenced anytime within a 7 1/2 hour range -- 10:30 am, 5:30pm, whatever works. As for bedtime, we were sure to do everything in our power to insure puffy, dark circles under her eyes each morning. Hey, don't judge, we were conscientious enough to have a strong cup of jo waiting for her each morning. She is a Walston, after all. A day without coffee is a day not worth living....unless you are Scott.

The rest of our parental digressions were scattered throughout the week like fun little prizes: Loading her into a 250 degree car and allowing her to burn herself on the scortching car-seat, mistakenly placing her pack-n-play too close to the bed so she was able to climb out and fashion a life-sized model of Mt. Everest out of a package of wet wipes, oh and my favorite -- when, somewhere along the line she managed to get a splinter in the heel of her foot THAT WE STILL HAVE NOT REMOVED! She won't let me near her feet with nail clippers, let alone a big needle and pair of tweezers. I can only guess that my next post will be titled "Staph: It's fun for the whole family"

Stella bounced back from every adverse situation we threw at her. She slept well...when we let her; she was amazingly accommodating...no matter how ridiculously inconsistent our schedule was, and she, through it all, managed to actually keep learning. No longer do we have the Stella of one word commands and unintelligible babble. We now have a little person who can string words together telling you exactly what she wants and rattle off the names of all of her extended family:

"Damma" (Grandma)
"Dampa" (Grandpa)
"Dot" (Uncle Scott)
"Pad" (Uncle Thad)
"Ant Peene" (Aunt Celene)
"Yiddy" (Lily)

And she even knows her own name...."Teppa".

Lest you think I am kidding about all of this, you should probably click here.

Another chapter from the Walston Parenting Manual: Rigid schedules are a must!

2005-07-01T22:16:00.000-07:00

After finally adjusting to the sweltering temperatures, be began our vacay in earnest. Nothing like staying up until 3am only to have your child wake up at 4:30. Through some amazing planetary alignment, she actually went back to sleep until 8:30!! I - with all true and sincere honesty - can say that I don't remember her EVER sleeping past 7am. EVER. I will be sure to send her a nice fruit basket for this amazingly generous gesture.

I managed to find her some super groovin jammies that are silky and wonderful and, well, pink cammo. Sweeeeet. I also was able to take advantage of the retail mecca that is Walnut Creek and find us the new towels we so desparately needed. Shopping is good. Very good. Must control self.

We also got the very pleasing news that the appraisal came back on our house at a lovely $274K. The Goldilocks factor is in full effect. Too low: can't shake that stupid PMI, Too high: property taxes would take us to the cleaners, Just right: $274K.

Gaining $100k in equity over a 2 1/2 year period: Priceless.

Tomorrow we leave for cabin-land. That place without high speed connections and shopping at fancy retail establishments. Instead we will be gorging on massive quantities of food and traversing the lake on speedy watercraft. Gee, I hope we can make the transition.

Well, it is now 10:40 and Stella is still awake and happy as a clam. I guess napping from 5-7pm isn't probably the smartest idea if you are trying to stick to any kind of normal sleep schedule. But then again staying up until 3:00 am, thereby necessitating said nap, is probably not the smartest idea either.

Family therapists should probably start submitting resumes now.

Direct from a land where 'hot' is anything over 64 degrees.

2005-06-30T21:26:00.000-07:00

Walnut Creek is HOT! And I'm not talking Paris-Hilton's-That's Hawwwwt-hot, I'm talking sweaty-knee-pits-need-to-be-naked-DIRECTLY-in-front-of-the-air-conditioner hot.

We have been here all of about two and a half hours and we are already sweating in places we forgot we even had, and doing a pretty good job of shedding any non-essential pieces of clothing, whilst also loitering for extended periods in direct proximity of the air conditioner (which, much to Celene and Thad's dismay, we have cranked to super-max.)

Hold on a sec, I need to take a drink of my alcoholic beverage and rub it's sweet sweaty condensation all over my torso.....

There. That's better.

So anyway, did I mention it was hot? We dug out the only nightgown Stella owns (had to literally pull the tags off it before I put it on her) and figure that we will need to wash it every day while on this odyssey, because you don't find a lot of use for long-sleeved, footed fleece pajamas while traveling through geographic regions whose temps rival those of, oh say, Hades!

Our itinerary tells us we have one more day here wherein we plan to keep ourselves either submerged, neck-deep in the pool, or in some fancy-pants Walnut Creek establishment sucking every ounce of freon they have to spare. After that, we will be packing up our sorry, heat-loathing selves and relocating to some increased elevation, thereby removing us, ever so slightly, from the sweltering temperatures.

When did we become such wussies?

And, why, exactly, do you think she chose green?

2005-06-29T19:50:00.000-07:00

Firstly, I feel compelled to mention that our household has successfully logged another 70 or 80 hours of Hi-5 (not counting the time at day care). We missed the appearance on The Today Show wherein Matt Lauer said that he wasn't sure about other families, but around his household they are pretty much commensurate to the Beatles. Right there with ya, Matt. Stella would step over my cold dead body to catch another round of Kimmie teaching her to make a windchime out of a bunch of kitchen spoons.

Stella's ability to recite all the primary colors and otherwise order us around sometimes fools us into thinking she is NOT ACTUALLY ONLY 18 MONTHS OLD. After Tuesday's usual 'Fun with Knives & Fire Hour,' we packed up the shiny box of razor blades and gave Miss Stella a cup of crayons and a pile of printer paper... At the dining room table... Unsupervised... Look, no one said we were the brightest parents on the block. They say a picture says a thousand words. I think this one gets the point across in about 4: What. Were. You. Thinking.

Nice.

Tuesday was a banner day on many levels. We were not only lucky enough to have a Stella original tatooed onto the dining room table (you know, the one we were getting ready to trade in at the local antique store any day now) but we also played a little game of "walk in on Stella climbing out of her crib." Again. It is Dore's prediction that we will startle awake one night to find a little face staring at us. That silly Dore! Everyone knows that Stella can't accomplish much of anything without involving a crash, some sort of spilled liquid and a large quantity of mustard. We are in a world of hurt once she starts getting her stealth on.

So here we are at Wednesday. Aside from some of the usual minor backyard shennanigans (putting wood chips places they have no business being, bathing herself in the fountain, shoving dirt clods into her sandals, picking rotten berries, chasing White - the neighbor cat), it has been a fairly quiet day. We took a walk, played, watched some Hi-5 (natch) and witnessed the arrival of the newest members of our family...

...welcome home my beauties! Mommy loves you very, very much.

Sorry about that college fund Stella. But don't worry, Mommy and Daddy will be sure to leave these beauties to you in the will.

And we shall name it Catsnackius

2005-06-23T08:51:00.000-07:00

So, it was right about the time that I was down on my hands and knees in Stella's closet (you know, the one that - in all of her generostiy - she allows me to share with her) sniffing our clothes because I had caught a whiff of cat pee, that I realized my distain for our cats has reached a whole new level. This, along with the fact that while in the garage we also found two new places that our cats have taken the care to pee all over, has given me a renewed interest in revenge.

Some ideas I am playing around with:

I could run the vaccuum cleaner nonstop, but the spillover effect of that would be that Stella would also be hiding in a closet.
I could wrap their paws in tape, but that borders on sociopathic.
We have considered just locking them out forever, but there is a whole host of downsides to that approach -- one of which is that our neighbors would grow to hate us so much that they would want to burn our house down.
Which leaves us with a conversation that Steve and I had the other day wherein he informed me that monitor lizards eat cats. (I know what you are all thinking - and NO, I didn't prompt this line of questioning.) If I can find research substantiating the fact that they don't also prey on curious and cute toddlers, we're getting one.

Flashing Signs

2005-06-21T20:54:00.000-07:00

Um, there is a no-tolerance gang policy in this house.

Now you listen here, kiddies.

2005-06-21T20:51:00.000-07:00

By the time you are my age, these - by default - will be genetically spliced into your nervous system.

Beerly legal

2005-06-21T20:46:00.000-07:00

Why Justin, I thought you were a pale ale man!

Facts you won't learn on "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom"

2005-06-21T20:26:00.000-07:00

Steve to Stella while mom eavesdrops from an adjacent room:

"You know Stella, humans have amazingly resiliant foreheads. Foreheads are far more durable, than, say, the side of the head. For instance, they were useful to our prehistoric ancestors in that they would kill gazelles in the wild by head-butting them to death."

Wherein we revisit the caveman issue

2005-06-21T18:54:00.000-07:00

So, turning 33 aint so bad. I had a pretty sweet party (aside from that STUPID sore throat thing) wherein I was able to show off my bitchin new remodel and was showered with luxurious gifts from all of my adoring fans. Thank you, thank you my dahlings. I am now the owner of a S-W-E-E-T new iPod, my daughter's penchant for emotional meltdowns has reached an all time low (listen here for sound of knocking on wood), and my husband is now home for the entire duration of the summer for the first time in 6 years. Hello honey-do list!

Now that I am a mature 33 year old, I feel like it is prime time for me to do something, well, mature. So, I am making a concerted effort to better my parenting skills by reading a book that compares toddlers to neanderthals. According to the author, Stella is in a phase where she is no longer a chimp, but rather, a "knee-high neanderthal," well on her way to being a "clever cave-kid." Apparently, her ability to fashion anything into a tool of destruction is akin to her adult ancestors of 2 million years ago. Likewise, her newfound ability to problem-solve cultivates a cockiness that negates the ability to consider any point of view other than their own. I will be clubbed over the head with a wooden block any day now. Oh wait, I already have.

The recommendation for dealing with Betty Rubble involves me grunting single syllable words at her in order to make her feel like her feelings are being acknowledged: "You. Mad. GRRRR. Mad. Mad. Mad. Want to stay at park. Stay. Stay Stay." Um, yeah, I don't think so. I appreciate the suggestion, but I think I'll go out on my own on this one. Come on. I think the whole host of other ridiculous, embarrasing, goofy things I have to do on a regular basis have used up all my humility points for - oh, say - THE REST OF MY LIFE!!! To his credit, I have, at least, tried acknowledging her feelings, letting her know that I understand exactly why she is mad. But note - I do this with regular words and in a regular tone of voice. And what do you know? It really does help diffuse the situation enough to get her into a reasonable space -- at least long enough to actually try to distract her with gifts and sugary treats.

So, as you can see, I am bettering my 33-year-old self already. And at this rate, who knows -- maybe I'll even be grown up enough to stop mocking NASCAR fans. Or not.

Gotta Hemi?

My Favoritest Things

2005-06-19T07:29:00.000-07:00

Hi Dadeeeee!

Mom let me use the computer to write to you for Father's Day. She said she will do something called editing...whatever that is. I don't care -- I just like hitting the keys and clicking the mouse pad.

Dadeeee, you are the greatest. I have so much fun with you. These are the things I like the most:

When you read me stories. Mom says you don't really read the words that are on the page, but I don't care. You make the stories better. You tell me stuff about the characters that isn't in the book and add cool other stuff too -- like when you read me Walter the Farting Dog and make all the good farting noises. I am getting really good and making them too.

When we spend fun time together in the morning. I like getting up early and so do you. It is always fun when we play together in the mornings, especially on the weekends when you and I make breakfast and play and stuff. I love it when you make me cheesy eggs and we sit on the floor and eat together. Plus, you pick out really good clothes for me (even though Mom says sometimes you don't).

I love it when you come home from work. I always drop whatever I am doing when I hear the front door open and run to find you. That is my favorite.

We do lots of fun stuff in the yard. We find worms and bugs and pick berries and smell flowers. You let me help you when you are working. I am a good helper. Remember when we picked all those berries and made a pie? That was so fun. We ate pie everyday for breakfast, and you said, "Stella, you are lucky that I am someone who understands that pie is always appropriate for breakfast." Yum!

Dadeeee, you are the best. You always play with me and tell me lots of good stuff about the things I find in the yard. You never get mad at me and always kiss my owies. I am so lucky that I have such a nice dadeeee.

Happy Father's Day. I love you, Dadeeee!

The Walston Household: Where normal is on permanent vacation.

2005-06-16T08:29:00.000-07:00

So how's this for an encouraging statement from the pediatrician:

"Yeah, its looking like you are going to have to get that verbal discipline thing down pretty quicklike. At this rate, she is going to be able to take you down by the time she's 5."

Nice.

It has really taken me a long time to realize that physically, Stella really is larger than your average 18-month-old. As of yesterday's weigh-in she is tipping the scales at roughly 30 lbs and towering at close to 3 feet. I just don't pay attention to it that much. I see her around other kids, but never really compare her to them, I am too busy enjoying that fact that I am not the one having to entertain her. The part that is so deceiving is that, overall, she is pretty well proportioned. Aside from her cute little buddha-belly, she is a lean ball of muscle. [You can thank your daddy and his genes for this, Stella. Just be thankful Mommy didn't pass on her Flinstone gene to you.]

Aside from the usual recording of stats, and administering of a lovely tetanus shot, we spent the majority of the visit discussing a certain someone's 'volatile nature'. I sheepishly admitted that I brought Stella in to see one of the other doctors a month or so back when it all started, thinking that there was actually something physically wrong. There had to be. How could she have gone from precious to goblin in one day? So, she diligently checked Stella's ears, poked the usual spots, asked the obvious questions: "Is she teething? Sleeping okay? Any major changes in the household?" Aside from the fact that our entire house was currently turned inside out (literally), there was nothing else out of the ordinary I could think of that would cause my otherwise easy-going kid to turn into a demon overnight. By the end, all she could write down as diagnosis was 'Tantrums, Teething'. I told her how much I appreciated that she at least added that 'teething' part so I didn't look like a complete idiot. Great. So it is just who she is now.

In my conversations with Stella's regular pediatrician she (a new mother herself) was supportive and empathetic (one of the reasons I adore her), and confirmed that our approach was good: distract her, walk away from her, have that 3rd glass of wine . It's all okay. Really. Then she said something that totally made me laugh.

"Don't worry about long explanations and reasoning right now. You can just use caveman speak to get the point across in a basic way."

"Oh, you mean my husband's approach of pointing out an item, explaining it's scientific name, origin, its use in both ancient and current society and whether or not she can eat it isn't necessary at 18-months?"

I think it took her a second to realize I wasn't kidding. That this is Stella's reality. She won't just learn the word fan. She will also learn about angular velocity. She won't just learn how to point out about a ladybug, she'll learn that they are important because they eat aphids. She won't just be able to point out the microwave, she'll be told how the microwave actually heats the water in the food and, subsequently, about the process of heat transfer. She will not only be able to point out an animal, but identify whether or not we eat it (like when she points to a cow and says YUMMY!)

"So unless, caveman-speak is anything like nerd-speak, I don't know if that will work in our house."

Sorry Stella, you have no chance for normalcy. Embrace it. You have no other choice.

Pandora's Box, it done been opened.

2005-06-15T08:23:00.000-07:00

Okay, so here's the thing -- I am all about personal responsibility. It irks me to no end when people play the victim-blame-game and can't fess up to the reality that they are, in essence, the master of their own destiny. Own it.

Me, owning it.

Let's take for example yesterday afternoon when I made a really poor choice. Stella and I were playing a game of peek-a-boo in her room -- she in her crib, me on the floor, and Steve diligently Swiffering the loveliness that his our new wood flooring (hence the need to keep her contained). It was at this moment that I had two choices: 1) ask Stella if she can climb out of her crib, 2) don't ask Stella if she can climb out of her crib. I'll give you one guess which choice I made.

Yup, with no help or guidance from yours truly, she simply hiked her leg up and swung it over as if she were going to do one of those big spins on the monkey bars. She then hoisted the entirety of her body up so that she was then straddling the railing. Then, using her ninja-like precision, she gracefully maneuvered her body until she was parallel to the mattress -- balancing lengthwise on the rail. With a concentrated look, and muscle control that rivals an olympic gymnast, she then proceeded to scootch herself down towards the floor.

And what was I doing this entire time? I stood there, agog at the simplicity of it all. It was like she had been working with a trainer on the side, waiting for this exact moment when I would challenge her to such a task. How's that for a mother-daughter connection? She knows that it is only a matter of time before I do something as stupid as asking her child if she can climb out of her crib!

So guess what everybody? Stella now knows how to climb out of her crib. Who do we have to thank? Right again!

This morning when we went in to get her we had the usual chit-chat with her about water, poop, blue, goggy (doggy), and then I said to her, "Are you ready to get up Stella?" She replied, "Yeah," and proceeded to hike her leg up over the side of the crib...

You can take the girl out of the trailer, but you can't take the trailer out of the girl.

2005-06-12T09:06:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, while we were in Ukiah for Shannon's birthday, Steve took Stella on the mother of all field trips. It was the Sunday morning after the party and, as the sun started peeking through the blinds, I heard the usual early morning commotion. When I asked Steve what time it was, he replied with a simple "You don't want to know," and handed me some aspirin and a tall glass of water...for my...sore muscles.

The next thing I know, I am hearing the pitter patter that I instantly recognize as Stella's straigh-legged-no-upper-body-movement-except-her-head-bobbing-up-and-down running style. I roust only to find her running around the expanse that is Shannon & Ryan's property. She quickly came running up to me wearing -- wait for it -- her fleece footed pajamas with her Teva sandals -- on the outside! (This is one of those moments that is making me realize that I need to have my camera at my hip at all times.) So, she is babbling in her Stella-speak something about "payyyyyy" and holding a rubber ball fashioned as a globe. I instantly began to realize that a lifetime had passed during those few short hours of slumber.

With Steve's help, Stella goes on to tell me the story of how they got to go to go to the land of low priced enchantment that is known as WALMART (i.e. the only retail establishment actually open at 6:00 am on a Sunday), and got to buy "EhmoEhmoEhmo" (for those of you who don't speak 'Stella', that is Elmo). So as the story continues to unfold I realize that "payyyyy" is actually pancakes and that before he even has to tell me, I know exactly where the story is headed.

Me: "Duuuude, don't tell me you actually took her to McDonalds!"

Steve: "Well yeah, and I had to ask the lady at WalMart where it was."

Me: "So let me get this straight. You took our daughter to WalMart, in her pajamas, with sandals over them, at 6:00am on a Sunday morning, while her mother was at home sleeping off one too many glasses of wine, then proceeded to McDonalds where you bought her the toxic troika of pancakes, sausage and hash browns?"

Steve: "Yeah, and she ate the entire hash brown all by herself."

Me: "You do realize that, in the period of a couple of hours, we have just become the people we make a sport out of mocking?"

Steve: "Yeah, but can their kids do this? Hey, Stella, where is Antarctica?"

Stella proceeds to spin the globe in her hands until the blue blob of Antarctica is side-up and says, "actica."

Me: "I give up."

Stella 4,642 : Natalie 2.5

2005-06-09T15:24:00.000-07:00

Me putting my foot down:

"Stella, I am NOT going to let you eat your string cheese by way of chewing through the plastic wrap. Not this time. Nope. I really mean it. Look here is how you..."

Stella responding obediently:

"WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! noWAYnoWAYnoWAY"

Me holding firm:

"Fine!! Here!!"

Guessing game

2005-06-08T19:38:00.000-07:00

In this photo Stella is:

A) a plumber
B) a back-up dancer in a Kid Rock video
C) missing a Budweiser in her right hand
D) makin' her daddy proud

I'll Give you PERKY!

2005-06-07T14:20:00.000-07:00

I love music. I love to constantly have a steady stream of it playing in the background, shuff-shuff-shuffling any of our hundreds of CDs in a sequence that is never the same twice. I like it when I hear a song that I haven't heard in a decade and it monorails me down memory lane to the time and space that it holds in my memory. I love the digital age of music wherein I can hear, read about or in other ways stumble across a song, make a mad dash to the computer and have it downloaded and burned in a matter of minutes. That is what I call progress.

Progress is also not having to be a slave to format. Yes, you know what I am talking about. The ear-bleeding perkiness that is....children's music. It burrows into your subconscious until you find yourself singing a song, not even realizing "AGH! This is from the Hi-5 soundrack -- what am I doing?" I blame Steve. HE is the one that went to Borders to buy the DVDs, and HE is the one that just had to download all 37 of their cotton-candy-top-40-the-speakers-ooze-sugary-sweetness songs. Action had to be taken. So here, in all it's glory, I give to you the anecdote for all that is perky. Everyone, I give you: Stella's Bad Mamma Jamma Mix '05.

This mix encapsulates the following important kid-AND-MOM- friendly musical stylings: world music, hip indie/alternative tunes, French-Cajun music, western cool, bluesy cool, reggae mon

"E Eats Everything" || They Might Be Giants
"Jump in the Line" || Harry Belafonte
"Mahna Mahna" || Cake
"La La La La Lemon" || Barenaked Ladies
"A,B,C et 1,2,3" || Michael "Beausoleil" Doucet
"Go for G!" || They Might Be Giants
"The Bowling Song" || Asleep at the Wheel
"(Put the lime in the) Coconut" || Toxic Audio
"Rubber Duckie" || Kelly Hogan
"Rolling O" || They Might Be Giants
"Little Sack O Sugar" || Taj Mahal
"(The Banana Boat Song) Day-O" || Harry Belafonte
"Bare Necessities" || Tony Rebel

May this be the first of many wonderful listening memories, my hip little dancing girl.

My Friends: Part 1 of an ongoing series

2005-06-05T17:44:00.000-07:00

This is me and Shannon.

This weekend we attended Shannon's 36th birthday in Ukiah at her snazzy new house that she shares with Ryan. Shannon has been my friend for many years and, together, we have had many wild adventures. In an effort to preserve my sparkling reputation, I will not go into details about these adventures, but will say that during NO time did we ever do anything fattening, immoral or illegal. Amen.

Shannon is a great friend for many reasons. First of all she also is a Gemini, and the 4 of us get along swimmingly. She writes really great stream-of-conciousness emails that go on paragraph after rambling paragraph (no doubt a side effect of the precision writing she was a slave to in law school). She is the best friend to do absolutely nothing with. She is a thoughtful listener. She has great penmanship. She has this amazing freak-of-nature hair that never has to be washed (literally -- she doesn't even own shampoo), yet never looks greasy. She is an 'extended length hugger.' Her priorities just make sense: good food, good wine and you should ALWAYS have dessert. I can talk to Shannon about anything, and I mean ANYTHING. It is comforting to know that no matter how banal or abstract or long-winded or redundant, she is always willing to listen and give productive feedback.

And so to you, Shannon, on your 36th birthday I tell you this: my life is so much richer with you in it and in a nutshell, you rock.

It's A Stella Thing

2005-06-02T20:06:00.000-07:00

The Number Thing:
So all of you family members of the male persuasion will be thrilled to know that Stella can correctly identify (without even being asked, thank you very much) where the 8 and the 2 are on a tape measure. Oh, and that it is yellow.

The Laundry Thing:
Stella also has exhibited firm grasp on the laundering process, properly identifying who each and every piece of clothing belongs to (no, I am not kidding, she didn't even miss one), helping to load said pieces into the washer, pointing out the door, the soap, the water and the buttons. Oh Stella, the laundromats that await you.

The Cup Thing:
She refuses to allow me to put the lid on her tippy cup, insisting that she drink it "big girl style." I have mopped up more milk off the floor than I care to even mention, but far be it for me to impede "progress."

The Owie Thing:
So somewhere along the line, Stella wound up with an owie on her finger. During this episode she was enlightened to the concept of kissing the owie. So now, whenever she hurts herself she kisses her finger and runs to you crying "owie, owie" and holding out her finger....even if she hurt her head. And the best part: no matter where she was hurt, when you kiss her finger, she feels better.

The Sleeping Through the Night Thing:
Oh wait, she doesn't. Never mind.

Don't hate me because I am beautiful...

2005-05-31T21:05:00.000-07:00

...pity me because my mother is evil.

When good things happen to bad parents.

2005-05-31T20:59:00.000-07:00

Yes, that is the sweater to one of her teddy bears. No, we did not put it on her head. Yes, we pointed, laughed, took photos and wished we had thought of it ourselves.

Late Spring/Early Summer Checklist

2005-05-29T19:54:00.000-07:00

Get hideous geometric sunburn from overalls while gardening: Check!

For the Glory!

2005-05-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

Number of:

--times Stella was told not to lick the Swiffer: 4

--bottles Stella has had outside of sleep time: 0

--times Stella has melted down into a crying frenzy chanting "ba-ba" since 'Operation 4B' has commenced: 1

--cookies that were not either overcooked or undercooked while testing out our new convection oven: 0

-- hours spent reading camera manual for the first time since we bought it 8 months ago: 2

--dollars saved by not impulsively going out to buy a new camera with features that we thought our current camera did not have : $1000

--outings to see the fun and frivolity of the 37th Annual World Championship Kinetic Sculpture Race: 2....so far

--remaining fun and sun activities of Memorial Day 2005: infinite

An opportunity for fame and fabulous prizes

2005-05-27T17:21:00.000-07:00

Okay, so we are getting all set to register ourselves a domain name (as a first step towards moving us off Blogger) and have been really reconsidering what name we should go with. Although The Walston Street Journal is cute and catchy, it is also a monster of a name to type in. Yes, yes, I know that once it is bookmarked, it is only a click away, but nonetheless, it is still quite a mouthful, er, handful. In the end, we still may go with it, but until that time, we are putting out the request for any and all ideas that our small, but important, readership might have. (yikes, I'm sure I have way too many commas in that sentence...)

Nothing is off limits. Steve has already come up with some real winners (www.fbomb.com, for instance). Lest you want something like this, I suggest you help us out a little here...

Secret, cool prize to the winner.

Void where prohibited. Winners are subject to approval. Winning entry to be determined by Stella. Or not.

Operation '4B', for short.

2005-05-27T12:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Stelly-belle,

We need to have a little chat about something. It has been something that has been on my mind for quite some time now, and with your 18 month birthday quickly approaching, the time has come for me to make yet another decision that will undoubtedly ruin your life forever. [Don't worry, it won't be the last.]

It's about your bottle. It kind of has to go.

Change that. It *really* has to go.

I know you love it. I know it has brought you 17 fun-filled months of joy and pleasure. I know that when you squeal and do that little dance every time you see it you are showing me just how * much* you love it. I know that if it wasn't for the fact that I-- your "first one's free, kid" pusher -- got you hooked on it in the first place by being one of those horrific mothers who didn't breasfeed you, we would never be in this situation in the first place. Believe me, I know you will blame me, and me alone for the turmoil that is soon to follow. Should Dad get caught in the crossfire of this evil missive I am about to carry out, please don't blame him entirely -- he is acting on strict orders from me. Although I feel compelled to mention that, based on a long and involved conversation last night while laying in bed, he indicated that he is equally concerned about the myriad of negative issues that will arise should we not address this issue tout suite:

Me: "So, we really need to be *done* with this whole bottle thing."

Your dad: "Yeah."

So there you have it. Aside from your vote, we have complete household consensus.

I am only telling you this so you won't be surprised when we launch Phase I of 'Operation Bye-Bye Ba-Ba'. Being that you only still really have a bottle when sleep is involved it is important that we don't throw the entire household into some sort of sleepless tailspin -- which is where the two-pronged approach comes in. I know it will seem wierd to you to find [ gasp!] water in your bottle, as opposed to milk, but believe me, it is for your own good. Believe me, honey, your Dad and Uncle Thad may have convinced you that Billy Bob teeth are one of the coolest inventions of late, but in real life, they won't do much for your social life.

Phase two will most definitely be where the true battle of wills begins. Believe me when I tell you this my dear, sweet Stella: I am taking it away because I *love* you. For you. For all of us. For the betterment of society. I can't tell you exactly when this phase will commence, but I will tell you this:

the ba ba is going bye bye.

Love,
Mama

Stella's hidden agenda: On Fashion.

2005-05-25T15:09:00.000-07:00

Can someone *please* explain to me how I can spend 10 minutes methodically applying sunscreen, only to have her run into the house crying, then coming out demanding that she wear her RAINCOAT!?! It's practically 70 degrees!

There's no accounting for taste.

2005-05-25T14:55:00.000-07:00

I know what you are all thinking right now -- GAWD! I can't believe they don't have backsplashes yet. I'm almost embarrased to post this.

Her 437,856th word.

2005-05-23T22:00:00.000-07:00

I keep trying to compile some sort of vocab list enumerating all the new words Stella is picking up and using on a regular basis. For some reason, however, I have not been able to really get the ball rolling. Then, all of a sudden it hit me. Recouningt what she is saying is only half of it. I mean come on, after the first few words it starts getting a little rediculous to maintain an ever growing vocabulary list of each and every new word. When does it stop? Flashforward 13 years: "Oh, honey look she just used "paradoxically" in a sentence for the first time -- quick! get the list!" The reality, I have realized is that the real humor is in how she says it.

The bizzare emphasis on the 'H' in white; the way she says 'yeah' with a climbing pitch that then drops off quickly at the end; the way she drops the second syllable off words like 'open' and 'blueberry' -- shortening them to 'oap' and 'boooo'; the way she can mutilate a word and look at you like you are crazy for not understanding what she is saying: "ohhhh, I get it! Not oaaaaam, you mean worm!" [She is fascinated by them, by the way.]; the way she bellows 'beeeeee' while wiping her hand across her chest (we still haven't managed to get her to actually say 'thank you' yet -- she'll only sign it).

And to think, in no time at all 'yerow' will be a crystal clear 'yellow,' and 'noona' will be a perfectly articulated 'noodle' and yes, for all of you who are wondering, we are still working alligator.

2005-05-23T21:59:00.000-07:00

Peeled grapes and palm leaves to arrive momentarily.

Even a 17-month-old can do it.

2005-05-23T21:54:00.000-07:00

Dad and Stella worked on this all morning. Make that 2 math nerds now living in the Walston household.

It's all in how you define "productive".

2005-05-23T21:52:00.000-07:00

Not only is it important to remove *every single book from the shelf* but also to methodically remove each and every dust jacket. Thank you, Stella, for your unerring attention to detail.

Gritty, with a chalky aftertaste.

2005-05-23T21:47:00.000-07:00

In Stella's world things must be smacked, thrown or licked. In this case, she chose to take it one step further and attempt to consume my pumice stone [note that she even went so far as to chew straight through the protective plastic wrap].

Baby book entry #679 -- Updated

2005-05-20T15:31:00.000-07:00

Baby book entry #679 [update]:
Had to move new end tables from living room entirely.

Baby book entries #678 and #679

2005-05-20T15:27:00.000-07:00

Baby book entry #678:
Stella ate first Spam this week.

Baby book entry #679:
Stella has adapted new end tables as a "get up and over the arm of the couch quick" tool. Must move them.

All those pictures of cats on the walls of the pyramids were warnings, but did we listen? Noooooo.

2005-05-20T11:52:00.000-07:00

Slowly, over the course of the last couple of years, our cats have slowly begun the process of methodically and systematically planning our death. The how's and why's are still unfolding, but the overall reality of the situation has really started to sink in. This is where they slipped up though. The chaos of the remodel made them heady with arrogance. Gave them a false sense of security wherein they got sloppy, and ultimately, let us on to their plan.

It's no big secret that I am not exactly a cat person. Maybe it is because I am so selfish and, aside from Stella, I can't let anyone in our immediate living space be more selfish than me. Maybe it is just a battle of wills that I am not willing to concede. Maybe it's that cats are petulant and could honestly care less if you are around -- unless of course, they want something. Although dogs come with some similar baggage in regards to cleanliness and naughty behavior, they at least seem to have some modicum of earnest interest in you, and seem to actually, well, like you. Like, if they were people, the dog would walk in and say "Hey dude, what's up? Missed you. Glad you're home." and the cat would walk in and say "Ugh. You. Could you at least make yourself useful and pet me, feed me or do something otherwise useful with that tiny brain of yours?" Both of our cats have a certain way of looking at you like you are a total idiot.

Little did we know that when we gave Boris his name, it would be the most appropriate moniker to be bestowed on a pet. Ever. If Boris were a person he would be a large, dark-eyed Eastern European -- probably in the Mafia. He would speak broken english with a thick accent and would have ordered thousands to be iced for accidentally brushing past him on the street. Boris, the European, would have spent a lot of time and energy establishing his turf -- extorting and blackmailing people as a matter of course. In the real world, our tuff guy has taken to spraying everything he comes in contact with. New stove: spray it. Inside of Stella's caterpillar tube: spray it. New kitchen cabinets: spray it. South panel of the passion vines: spray it -- everytime you walk by it. We get it dude; you own the place.

As for cute, diminutive Rosie -- or as we refer to her: the serial killer living among us. Don't believe me? When our neighbors 'cat-sat' for us over the holidays we came back to not only a sweet, little grey kitty who wouldn't leave our sides, but also a house covered in feathers from one end to the other and a note from our neighbors indicating they had renamed her Charlie (yes, as in Manson). During the course of our absence they were forced to clean up the remnants of not one, not two, but up to three birds in a single day. And that this happened *every day that we were gone*! We belled her -- with two bells, no less -- only to find that, as Steve put it, now she hunts the deaf birds. Aside from her quest to eliminate the entire avian population in the greater Humboldt County area (sorry, Andrea), her single-minded determination to completely shred every piece of furniture we own has taught me that having all your furniture covered in sticky tape just isn't really worth it.

Nothing any of you cat-lovers out there (and I know that pretty much everyone reading this post is seething with cat-loving thoughts right now) can convince me that ours are not, as we speak, mapping the unraveling of our existence.

Note to Boris and Rosie and all your brethren: I'm on to you.

The joys and sorrows of vocabulary building.

2005-05-19T12:58:00.000-07:00

So, when she is not pounding her head against the floor in a fit of rage, all the while screaming "nowaynowaynowaynoway," Stella has been *very* busy building her vocabulary. Each day adding a few new words -- mostly a reflection of what she hears us saying [note to self: keep sailor mouth shut!] Her enunciation could use some fine tuning, but overall *we* understand what she is saying, and are so much better able to interpret her needs and wants. This newly found ability to communicate with one another seems to, oddly enough, be at the heart of her ever increasing need to voice her displeasure with a given situation. Something to the effect of "you no longer have an excuse to not know what I am asking for, and therefore have no reason not to give it to me"

Case in point: Yesterday when we got home she immediately runs to the cupboard where the catfood is kept and says "titee, titee" (this is what I mean abou that enunciation thing). In essence, she is pointing to the cupboard, then pointing to the catfood dish -- her eyes beckoning me to get the food down for her. In my mind, I quickly flash forward about 10 minutes to a vision of us being done "feeding the kitties" (read: playing in the catfood) and having to tell her we are done feeding the kitties and we have to put the food away, much to her dismay. Believe me, this is exactly where it would have gone. Instead, I decide to rationally and calmly tell her that the kitties have food and we don't need to give them anymore and try distracting her to come help me get her bottle ready. Yeah, you can all guess how well that went over. It didn't.

Along with learning just words and associations, she is also putting together some strings of words. Some, fairly straghtforward: mo beee (more please), others not so straight forward...

We -- okay, okay, Steve --has been feeding the neighbors cats for the last week or so, with Stella usually getting to go along for the ride. Over the course of this time Stella comes back saying her usual 'titee' (kitty), but she has also picked up a couple of new words: 'eat' (with perfect clarity), and 'white' (also, perfectly dictated). This morning, however, she came in saying all three in various order until out of her mouth came, you guessed it: "eat white titee." To any other parent out there, this may have been cute and clever, "oh look dear, she is putting words together," but to us, it was downright hilarious. We both looked at each other and thought "great, our kid is heading off to day care this morning to tell everyone about eating a white cat."

Unfortunately, eating and watching TV are the only way I can catch these 'precious moments'

2005-05-17T17:05:00.000-07:00

Yes, but do you have the butt-crack for it?

2005-05-17T17:04:00.000-07:00

Helping unpack.

2005-05-17T17:02:00.000-07:00

Lest I mention the 'Toddler Effect'

"The Musical Baton"

2005-05-17T13:43:00.000-07:00

Well, you caught me Andrea. You somehow figured out [through covert missions, no doubt] that I did indeed take baton lessons as a child (gotta love the 70's) -- and that is no doubt, your motive behind including me in your memetic spray.

Let me do some of my patented twirling exercises....1....2...3. Okay, here goes.

Total volume of music files on my computer: 197MB. Yikes! Only about 50 songs. I guess deep down I'm still just a pop-'em-in-the-changer-and-throw-it-on-shuffle kind of girl. A musical luddite, some might say.

The last CD I bought was: Hmm, that's a tough one. It's a toss up between the Garden State soundtrack (downloaded on iTunes), and the Waifs 2-cd set (purchased old-school at the bitchin' record store).

Song playing right now: Okay, so this is where it gets really sad. None. Nap time = no music. How about instead I answer which song I would like to be playing right now: I kind of have a hankerin' for a little bit of Ben Folds' Rockin' the Suburbs.

5 songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me: In no particular order, Come Rain or Come Shine by Billie Holiday, Isn't she lovely by Stevie Wonder, Perhaps by Cake, Million Miles Away by the Pilmsouls, Candy by Iggy Pop and Kate Pierson. Mostly, these songs have some nostalgic pull...some sentimental component of my life, wrapped up neatly in a song.

And I thought my lessons would not come in handy later in life...

When the going gets tough, the tough watch tv.

2005-05-16T10:21:00.000-07:00

So let's file this one under the "I will never..." category in my own rules and standards parenting manual (that, as you have probably figured out by now, has had about 600 pages ripped out).

With the remodel done, and the looming task of rebuilding our physical space to some sort of normalcy, we are yet again reminded of what they refer to in scientific journals (or at least should) as the 'toddler effect'. It goes something like this: take the project's overall hours in heretofore "normal" hours, multiply that by about 37, multiply that by 2, divide that by the cosign of the root of 76, then add 6. It is precisely this multiplier effect that calls for desparate measures...pulling out the big guns...calling in the cavalry, yes folks I parked her cute little butt in front of the TV. Out came the entire 12-volume DVD set of Baby Einstein, and the 2 High5 DVDs and her comfy ladybug chair and away we went.

Guilt demands that I find an upside; that I somehow make this an okay thing; that I rationalize it until I have actually turned it around to a *good* thing. No matter how hard I have tried, I just can't reconcile the fact that a video is *good* because they teach the merits of exercise....while you are sitting on your butt watching it. There is also the trance-like affect that these videos have on her. No other television evokes the same intensity of engagement. It is like those perky faces on the other end are somehow beaming laser beams into her brain willing her to watch without blinking -- the same way they are burning their inane songs into my subconscience. I wake up singing them, for God's sake!

All of this evilness aside, Steve and I actually had an opportunity to work...side by side....for, like an hour at a time! If it wasn't for that &$^% plumbing nightmare that surfaced Sunday morning, we actually would have really been able to get through one entire project. Instead, we are now halfway into about 3 -- which, in our world is pretty damn awesome!

And I would like to thank the Academy....

2005-05-12T21:33:00.000-07:00

So our adventure, although far from over, is quickly winding down. All that is left is the details -- those nasty, nasty details.

Thank you again to all of you who helped -- both directly and indirectly. In no particular order we wish to thank the following:

The grandmas: for all their babysitting, their 'husband-on-loan' program, their ability to repeatedly travel (sometimes through the most heinous of circumstances) and of course, their ability to continue to keep our golden child stocked with cute, fun and exciting stuff.

Dad Walston: for filling in as Master Lackey, for doing it not once -- but twice, and for doing it while sick.

Dore & Lewis: for not just offering to babysit once, but many times, and for officially being Stella's first real live sleep over.

Scott:for getting up and leaving by 4:00am, driving yourself and a 30+ foot trailer chock full of cabinets for 11 hours, delivering them, then turning around and leaving at 4:00am the next morning for home. We salute you...and your insanity.

Andrea & Brian: for their patience, tolerance, their spare bedroom and their amazingly helpful insight on kitchen design (we predict that by 2015, no home in America will be without a 'Last Chance Junk Drawer')

Our neighbors: for putting up with the hammering, sawing and all other forms of racket at the wee hours of the morning -- even on Saturdays and Sundays.

All of our friends and coworkers: for listening (or at least pretending) to our relentless updates and woes during this chaotic experience.

And of course, thanks to Dad Anderson: for doing all those things you usually wouldn't on a job, for never getting frustrated, or impatient or overwhelmed, for living in your trailer for 6 weeks straight and still insist that you loved it, for getting to know our daughter, for making the effort to reach out to both of us, for making the reconnection.

This project brought so much more than just the new kitchen, floor and bathroom. It brought us the realization that we are surrounded with amazing and generous friends and family. And no amount of fancy appliances could ever top that...well, except maybe that sweeeet Viking Range.... ;)

Um, so please don't call CPS.

2005-05-12T21:29:00.001-07:00

This one goes out to Grammy Judy...

2005-05-12T21:29:00.000-07:00

Beware of the cheese blob

2005-05-03T17:59:00.000-07:00

So here I sit, glass of wine in one hand- keyboard in the other, watching Stella consume a dinner that consists of organic chicken hot dogs (with mustard, natch), black beans and green beans -- lots and lots of green beans. The kid can't get enough of them. Oh, and juice. Oh, and did I mention that this was all just to tide her over until the pizza comes off the bbq? What have we come to? I swore I would not become the mom who feeds her kid nothing but chicken mcnuggets and Kraft Mac & cheese. I am only a stone's throw from high-maintenance-food-issues-kid-ville. Man, once this remodel is done....watch out perfect parent land, you are gonna have one more resident!! ;)

So the cabinets are coming along swimmingly. I confided in Peter that I am slowly starting to realize that red seems to be migrating quickly towards the top of my the favorite color list. I would never have considered red one of 'my colors'. If someone asked me I would probably say orange, yellow -- you know, typical Natalie colors. Somehow, when I look at my red purse and my red shoes I just bought, and the boxed red hair I color I sport, and the red paint I selected to have over half of my kitchen painted I am starting to see a pattern. So, anyway-- back to the cabinets . It is looking like they will be completed by Friday. They are looking awesome! If we manage to get them painted and dry without any cute little handprints it will be a miracle.

Well, dinner is over and aside from the aforementioned tasty tidbits, our precious one also consumed an entire piece of pineapple/canadian bacon pizza (only choking on the cheese-blob once). I know you grandmothers out there love this kind of information. To all others -- bear with us.

The first round of family has shown up, with another set potentially shortly behind (uncertainty has to do with a pyracantha thorn, swollen knee and an orthopedist). Aside from some time out for mother's day festivities, it's all about getting this [expletive deleted] remodel done!! We are so close. All we need is cabinet hardware for the bathroom, and we can abandon the Red Tail Ale box we have been using as a toiletries drawer and actually move all the bathroom mess currently residing in our bedroom into it's new home in the bathroom.

Pictures to follow soon....

Baby books of the new Millenium

2005-04-29T09:59:00.000-07:00

How do Moms do it? How do they have the persistence and diligence to undertake the hurculean task of recording every detail of their precious childrens lives? Every moment, recorded with accuracy and precision -- complete with lockets of hair, meticulous charts and graphs of weight/height/head circumfrence/finger length/hear rate, intricately detailed descriptions of their first steps, their first words, their first solving of the quadratic equation? How do they do it? Is this what separates the good moms from the bad? A sign of whose children are destined for greatness versus those who are destined for therapy? Yes, I have been terribly remiss in logging each and every wonderful thing Stella has done and no, I have no clue where her baby book even IS right now. Maybe instead, we have reached a new era. An era where instead of photo albums we have books of photo CDs and in place of meticulously kept baby books we have...blogs! Could I just be stuck in the middle of a huge shift in the space-time continuum? One where old ways are converging with new ones? Is there a scientific term for this? Should I make one up?

A girl, her cheese, her bathing suit bottoms and Michael.

2005-04-26T14:39:00.000-07:00

"Gardening"

2005-04-26T14:37:00.000-07:00

Looking under the invisible table.

2005-04-26T14:36:00.000-07:00

The real reason people declare bankruptcy: magazine photo color matching.

2005-04-24T14:22:00.000-07:00

Welp, we did it again. Another $40 another bunch of "holy pink!" paint samples. Luckily by the time we went back for the second round, the guy at the paint counter was kind enough to let me take some home to test -- promising that if I was very careful and didn't make a mess of the cans, he would let me return them. So, Country Redwood it is. More of a burgundy-ish than a red, but as we quickly figured out, redder somehow equaled pinker. And we aren't really ready to spend our life savings finding that perfect cabinet color.

So on Friday night, dizzy from stain fumes, twisted upside down...and backwards....trying to cram stain into the back-top-inside corner of the vanity, I came to realization that having Peter paint our cabinets was probably one of the wisest corners we did not cut. The measly two cabinets in the bathroom will probably take us as long as it will Peter to do the entire kitchen. The thought of now having to apply and sand 2 to 3 coats of polyurethane to them makes us groan. Not that we are lazy or afraid of a good project, but with work and baby to maneuver around, we don't exactly get to just throw ourselves into the project and not emerge until it is done. Ahhh, the old days.

Yes, Stella is still the cutest thing ever. She is still saying 'alligator' with about 16 too many syllables, has successfully mastered the E-I-E-I-O riff, and just received her first official bathing suit in the mail from her Auntie Celene. She is getting fairly proficient at her sign language as well. In most cases it has been an 'adapted' version that would make a bona-fide sign language speaker shriek (sorry, Celene), but it works nonetheless. A good example works like this:

Please.

In real sign language you rub your open-palmed right hand over your heart in a circular motion.

In Stella's version you take your right hand and drag it from the left side of your chest to the right side of your chest as though you were wiping your hand of something wet and gooey.

All the while, saing "Beeee". Ugh. We are so proud.

Ta-Da!!!!

2005-04-19T21:10:00.000-07:00

I

2005-04-19T21:07:00.000-07:00

Love

2005-04-19T21:06:00.000-07:00

You

2005-04-19T21:05:00.000-07:00

Chubb's Corner Spring Update

2005-04-19T09:58:00.000-07:00

Mr. and Mrs. William Walston are announcing the arrival of a litter of kitties (again!). Miss Tiger Lily Walston, the mother, chose to use the Alice Bly Memorial Kitty Birthing Center across the street for delivery, as do most Walston cats. A few months ago Tiger Lily refused to be transported via carrier to Dr. Romaine for a little feminine surgery,a fact that was not ignored by certain neighborhood rues. Hence, her "situation". Regardless, the Walston people are looking forward to hearing the pitter pat of little feet again, Uncle Chubbs is babysitting so she can get away once in awhile, and whenever she shows up she gets fed. (You can't have straggly kitties, you know.) More details will follow when she presents the litter officially. Adoption to good homes will be considered.

Life on Baby Time

2005-04-18T15:37:00.000-07:00

What is the worst thing you can do to an otherwise sweet and well-mannered dog whose forbidden fruit is people food? Put her in the same proximity as a highly generous and overwhelmingly 'dropful' 16 month old. Through no fault of her own, Lily has eaten raisins, animal cookies, green beans, cheese and various other vittles that Stella has shared both willingly and absent-mindedly.

As Dad's punch list shrinks, ours grows. Aside from the final finish work (appliances, light fixtures, etc), the only thing left on his list is kitchen floor. Our list on the other hand has grown rapidly. Stain & seal mouldings/window trim, paint touch-up, add baseboards, stain & seal bathroom cabinets, touch-up grout shower, kitchen backsplash, etc, etc, etc.)

Mom and dad will be heading out on Thursday and we will be left to our own devices. Which isn't saying much. One on baby duty, and one on house detail doesn't make for much productivity. This is one of those things that isn't outlined in the baby books: "everything will henceforth take you 26 times longer than it did in your pre-baby days."

So peaceful, so deceiving.

2005-04-18T15:31:00.001-07:00

Foot model? I think so!

2005-04-18T15:31:00.000-07:00

...and then there was floor!

2005-04-18T15:30:00.000-07:00

...and counter tops
...and sink
...and, drumroll....
Running Water!

Awww Yeah.

2005-04-18T15:29:00.000-07:00

Shhhh, I'm undercover!

2005-04-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

Our work crew.

2005-04-13T14:18:00.000-07:00

There is actually something to lean on!

2005-04-13T14:17:00.000-07:00

Almost a bathroom again!

2005-04-13T14:16:00.000-07:00

Wait, is that MENSA I hear calling?

2005-04-11T20:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, so let's recap. Stella (aka the most brilliant 16 month old e-v-e-r) can now do the following:

1. Identify colors
Dad to Stella while at the shoe store: "Stella, where is the orange shoe?"
Stella walks to, picks up and identifies said orange shoe.

2. Identify animals
Grandpa Andy to Stella while holding two different animal shaped paper plates: "Stella which one is the bear?"
Stella contemplates briefly then points to aforementioned bear and says "Dat!"

3. Speak sign language
Mom to Stella: "Tell your gramps thank you for that 5th bite of kaluah cream pie"
Stella signs 'thank you' to Gramps

4. Almost say the word Alligator
Dad to Stella: "Can you say Alligator?"
Stella to Dad: Aligulagulagula
(Gramps is working on 'Recycling' but we are not quite there yet)

Next up -- String theory!

Guess what we have?!?!

2005-04-10T14:37:00.000-07:00

Cabinets!!

The last few days have been busy ones.

Jim and Gwen arrived on Tuesday and Jim promptly got to work on the walls. 4 days, 2 1/2 buckets of drywall mud and about 3 inches of rain later, they rolled out of town -- never really getting to see how great it can really be up here when it is not raining!! Hoping the rest of their journey into Oregon proves to be much dryer.

On Friday we primed and painted the ceilings in the bathroom and kitchen, and even managed to finish up by painting all the walls in the kitchen. On Saturday we painted the bathroom, built the mirror frame for the bathroom and overall prepped for cabinet arrival. Scott and Bill pulled up a little before 4:00 pm (all 50 feet of them!). Cabinets were promptly unloaded and before sun-up the next morning, Scott was well on his way back down to the valley. One million thanks (again) for the marathon, Scott -- we can't thank you enough.

As I write, the cabinets are reaching final stages of installation. Dore was wonderful enough to babysit our sweet Stella for the day, giving me the opportunity to get a second coat of paint on the bathroom and some other miscellaneous things that take 50 times longer with baby in tow. Thank you Dore!

Next up is finish detail on the kitchen cabinets, installation and finish on the bathroom cabinets, bath and kitchen floors, countertops, finish electrical (switchplate covers, etc), light fixtures and trims, appliances and eventually, cabinet paint.

Can't hardly wait.

Cheesy construction photo #7

2005-04-10T14:26:00.000-07:00

Stella, Scott & a bag of Goldfish crackers.

2005-04-10T14:23:00.000-07:00

They're here!

2005-04-10T14:22:00.000-07:00

...and they're heavy.

2005-04-10T14:21:00.000-07:00

1st coat of "light bathroom"

2005-04-10T14:20:00.000-07:00

cash prize for winning bathroom paint color name (suggestions so far: liquid make-up, cream of tomato soup with soy sauce, brown-pink-orange)

And somewhere Benjamin Moore is smiling....

2005-04-10T14:19:00.000-07:00

Banished!

2005-04-10T14:17:00.000-07:00

In the land where crockpot is king...

2005-04-06T14:27:00.000-07:00

So, the bathroom walls have been prepped and the kitchen is in progress. After 4 tries and $45 of paint "samples," I think we have finally found a color for the bathroom walls that matches the magazine photo. As Steve put it: "our bathroom -- whether we like it or not -- will be one of these 4 colors". That's one way to narrow it down.

As for the paint in the kitchen, we have narrowed the wall color to 2 highly similar versions of beige. I guess it will depend on the cabinet color to make the final decision. And yes, the cabinet color has to be narrowed down as well.

As of today, the cabinets are officially done and ready to be loaded. If all goes as planned, we will be seeing them pull up to our house sometime on Saturday -- along with a certain uncle and a certain grandpa/laborer/babysitter. I. Can't. Wait. I'm really hoping we will be able to fit the painting in before the cabinets get here. I see an all-nighter in our very near future.

The shortest person in our group has been busy gardening (she planted her very own spinach plants, then promptly mangled them with her new array of gardening tools), info gathering on the job site (Dat?! Dat?! Dat?!) and being spoiled rotten by a certain grandpa. It is becoming painfully clear that she is going to go through withdrawals when he goes home (secretly, I think he will too).

So onward we forge with our 2 newly acquired slow-cooker cookbooks, our tarp covered floors, our ever-dusty house and our persistent optimism that it will all be worth it.

The uglier...

2005-04-06T14:24:00.000-07:00

...side...

2005-04-06T14:23:00.000-07:00

...of Easter.

2005-04-06T14:22:00.000-07:00

A tough one...

2005-03-31T20:31:00.000-08:00

In light of recent events this question goes out to Bill Walston. Which is harder, two weeks of manual labor fixing up your granddaughter's house OR spending 5 days babysitting a screaming 4-month old?

2005-03-31T19:19:00.000-08:00

three cheers for tile!

2005-03-31T19:18:00.000-08:00

sunny day

2005-03-31T19:17:00.000-08:00

the getaway

Our little bohemian.

2005-03-30T14:06:00.000-08:00

Construction is clipping right along. Bathroom tile is going up as I sit here and write. Kitchen is in a holding pattern waiting for taping and skimming -- to be done early next week. About the time the walls are done the cabinets should be rolling into town (a huge shout out to Scott). If all goes well -- we are hoping to wrap things up somewhere around the 3rd week of April. Hopefully we will be a little better at sticking to a timeline than we have been at sticking to our budget!

As for the other reason you all read this thing -- our darling Miss Stella has mastered the art of removing her clothes in record time. Among the many, many stories of 'clothing emancipation': I was tending to a late night waking recently, and as I stood there waiting to see if she was settling in, I hear zzzzziiiiiiiiip as she adeptly maneuvers her upper body out of her pj's. It won't be long before we start securing her clothes with duct tape. At least until the weather warms up.

Oh, and we recently decided that in lieu of completing and returning the customer satisfaction survey sent to us by the flooring company, we have asked the floor guy that did our original estimate to come out to take a look at some of the areas that we have never really felt great about. It should be interesting to see what he has to say.

Doctor's appointment this evening. Will post soon with baby stats.

Holding the house up.

2005-03-30T14:03:00.000-08:00

Fun with a construction tarp.

2005-03-30T14:00:00.000-08:00

Taking a little time out for a good book.

2005-03-30T13:55:00.000-08:00

Every girl's dream shower -- or not.

2005-03-30T13:52:00.000-08:00

Two grandpas and a baby with a cookie

2005-03-30T13:50:00.000-08:00

And a big thank you to Mailboxes Etc...

2005-03-30T13:41:00.000-08:00

...because nothing is as fun as the box

We hope you find your way home soon!

2005-03-25T18:04:00.000-08:00

The cabinets, they are a comin'

2005-03-25T18:03:00.000-08:00

the cabinets, they are a comin'

Do my eye's deceive me, or is that window actually open?

2005-03-22T14:29:00.000-08:00

Ta Da!

2005-03-22T14:25:00.000-08:00

And for our next trick, we'll add insulation and sheetrock!

2005-03-22T14:24:00.000-08:00

This isn't challenging enough. Hmmm, let's add rain!

2005-03-22T14:22:00.000-08:00

Kitchen Floors: Part 4

2005-03-22T14:04:00.000-08:00

Gee, isn't it great that we have $1500 worth of linoleum tiles sitting in our garage?!?

Kitchen Floors: Part 3

2005-03-22T14:03:00.000-08:00

Hmmm, that looks an awful lot like the wood floors throughout the rest of the house! (It's amazing how much better this stuff comes off with water than with that toxic adhesive remover!)

Kitchen Floors: Part 2

2005-03-20T09:17:00.000-08:00

Let's scrape at it and see what it looks like!

Kitchen Floors: Part 1

2005-03-20T09:09:00.000-08:00

Well would you look at that? It seems there is some sort of wood underneath that nasty yellow vinyl!

...And there was light! (and lots of it!)

2005-03-19T10:50:00.000-08:00