Dish Duty

I like to believe that one of the reasons my home is not as clean and tidy as it should be is because I have a 21 pound tornado living with me who likes to follow me around creating havoc. Here is evidence of said havoc (a wide-angle shot would've shown even more havoc). We can no longer do the dishes together.

Just Because

When you're helping you're happy

Clara loves taking objects out of containers, although she is far less enthused about putting them back. Some might say that she's never actually put anything away. Some would be right. Here Clara is "helping" me sort through some of her old clothes while looking for any larger clothes we may not have removed from storage. She thought it was a great activity. I just realize everytime I take a picture of her playing on the floor that our apartment looks pretty mangy from floor level. Oh well.

Happy Birthday, CB!

Our sweet Clara turns one today, and Jeremy and I have certainly done our fair share of nostalgic waxing over the last few days. Just over a year ago, I was in the hospital hooked up to all manner of monitors and feeling the warm rush of magnesium pushing through my veins, all in an effort to keep my little pea in the pod for just a little while longer. But Clara was ready to get on with things, even then, which probably explains why she decided to kung-fu fight her way out of me by breaking my water with her tiny, powerful fists. Or feet. At least that's how I think my water broke.

I remember so distinctly that when my doctor came to check on me on the morning of November 4, 2006 and then announced that the baby would come today, I was overwhelmed with feelings of anxiety and excitement. As the nurses prepped me for surgery, I remember shaking and crying and not knowing what exactly was going to happen. Within the hour, though, I heard the miraculous sound of Clara crying, and at least for that moment I allowed myself to believe that all would be well. As we slogged through two and a half weeks in the NICU waiting for her to stop forgetting to breathe from time to time, I felt more exhausted than I ever had in my life, but yet there she was, all nuzzled in her isolette with a perfectly proportioned body, light, fuzzy blonde hair, and dark eyes that even then seemed to absorb everything around her.

We brought Clara home from the hospital the day before Thanksgiving, and I sat in the back to watch her breathe. I was so nervous that the doctors and nurses were wrong and that something would happen to her. After all, she was still so small, and Jeremy and I certainly had no clue what we were doing. But as we drove home on that brisk, sunny day, I felt very happy to be together as a family.

I'm sure no one really wants to hear me ramble on and on about how wonderful my daughter is, but I will just say that I am so grateful for her, so in love with her, that I have a hard time finding words that can encompass the breadth and depth of my emotion. Even at times when I feel exhausted from chasing around the busiest little girl I have ever seen, I always feel a stir of excitement when I hear her wake up in the morning. She is truly a miracle. Jeremy and I waited a very long time to bring a child home from the hospital, and now that we have Clara I often reflect about our first miracle, Sam, and how much I wish he and Clara could be together. But I know that Sam is aware of us, that he loves us, and that he and Clara and our subsequent children will have a unique relationship, even though he has left this life. I'm grateful for both of my sweet children.

So Happy Birthday, Clara! Thanks for being such an ideal baby, and for bringing light and joy to the hearts of the people you meet. We are so proud to be your parents.

Food Allergies--Bah!

Here is a photo of seven of the eight most common food allergies. You can breath a sigh of relief that Clara has only been diagnosed with four of them (yes, I know--what a relief--ugh).

We took her to the allergist yesterday, and a scratch test confirmed allergies to eggs, milk, wheat, and peanuts. She had the most severe reactions to eggs and milk, and her reactions to wheat and peanut were mild enough that the doctor is not sure she's allergic. But for now, we are to treat all four as serious allergies and will vigilantly avoid them. We have to carry an epi-pen with us, although that's more of a precaution than anything, as it's possible she could ingest her allergens without that severe of a reaction. Nevertheless, we're feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the diagnoses.

Since the wheat poke produced such a small hive, they want to do what they call an "oral challenge" of wheat, where I'll take Clara and bowl of Cream of Wheat to the doctor's office and she'll eat the Cream of Wheat while they watch her for signs of reaction. We're to avoid all traces of peanuts until she is at least three, and then not until she's been tested again. And for all of the allergies she'll have a yearly scratch test to see if she outgrows any of them.

The good news is that 80 percent of children with wheat, milk, and egg allergies outgrow them between the ages of three and five. Only 20 percent outgrow a peanut allergy, so if she does in fact have one she'll probably hang onto that for life. All said, though, I know it could be worse, and I'm very grateful she's not allergic to soy as well (although everytime her cheeks look rosy at all I think, "Oh my gosh! Maybe she's allergic to soy! Or rice! Or whatever!").

At any rate, I'm giving myself a few days to feel overwhelmed about it, then I'm planning to start being proactive next week. Mark your calendars.

Visit from Grammy and Grumpy

My parents are in the midst of an identity crisis about what they want their grandkids to call them. (Well, to be fair, I don't think my dad is very crisis-ed about it.) Regardless, we enjoyed one full day with both of my parents, and my mom is still here enjoying a week of rare Syracuse sunshine. We trick-or-treat tonight!

The View from Vermont

Jeremy took Clara and me on a suprise trip to Vermont last weekend--just for fun! (I guess part of the fun was preserving our sanity and whatnot, since these last few months have kicked us until we were down and then kicked us some more.) We left on Thursday when I finished teaching and came back Saturday afternoon. As far as a leaf-peeping trip to Vermont goes, it was ideal. We stayed outside of Middlebury at a small bed and breakfast run by a charming, if eccentric, older couple. The woman, who I believe is originally from Vietnam, was really concerned about running out of copies of the breakfast order form, so she just erased the marks of whoever had it last and gave it to us, then the next day she erased the marks again so we could fill out a "clean" sheet. Her husband seemed extremely old--almost to the point of inducing us to feel extremely guilty that we were staying at their house and making them do work for us! (I got over the guilt by reminding myself how much we were paying them.) We enjoyed our stay, though, even with the "ladybug situation" (aka ladybug infestation). I guess if a person is going to have to deal with insects, the insects might as well be ladybugs.

One of the best moments of the trip was our spur-of-the-moment decision to drive to New Hampshire on Friday. Years ago Jeremy and I set a goal to visit 30 states together by the time he turned 30, and New Hampshire was our thirtieth state--with just under two years to spare! Jeremy is still much more traveled than I. He's been to 49 states (pesky Alaska) and I have now been to 31. But I like seeing them all with him. An interesting sidenote: New Hampshire was Clara's fifteenth state, which is pretty impressive for a not-quite one-year-old, and is perhaps especially impressive given that she spent the first five months of her life in our apartment. Say what you want about us: we really enjoy a good road trip! Our next goal is to hit 40 states by the time we turn 40.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, a few photographs:

Clara eating her breakfast in our proprietor's 80-year-old high chair. Lead paint, anyone? (Yes, Mom, only I would worry about something like that.)


Another highlight of the trip was an unintentional stop at the Joseph Smith birthplace visitor's center in Sharon, Vermont. We are really not very good religious pilgrims, and it hadn't even occured to us to stop here. But then there we were, right at the turn off on our way to New Hampshire. I actually think it might be our favorite Church history site. Very peaceful, quiet, and beatuiful.


Jeremy loves this picture. I'm not sure I see what he sees...



Clara took this picture of us at Dartmouth. If we're counting milestones that don't mean anything, this is the fourth Ivy League campus we've visited. (We may not be good religious pilgrims, but we are certainly shameless university tourists!)


Back in New York, we stopped to stretch our legs at a little apple farm, and we bought Clara her first pumpkin! She loved it; she ate the whole stem! (Seriously, doesn't she look thrilled?)



On an interesting final note, Jeremy recently reviewed the book The View from Vermont for the Journal of Cultural Geography. Be sure to pick up your copy when it hits newsstands across America!

Tender Bee

Just for you: a preview of Clara-B in her bumblebee costume. No, I did not buy it at Pottery Barn Kids, but if it looks familiar, I totally and blatantly ripped of the PB Kids design, which I saw in their catalog. Sixty bucks for an infant's Halloween costume? Ha! Not on my watch. This was made for about five dollars (if you don't count the high cost of my time, of course). I think it turned out fairly well, though I would implore you not to examine the zipper in the back. And I am still working out how to attach a small stinger and how to make a little antannae-headband. And I decided wings were a bit of a hassle, so she is a flightless bee. In spite of all this, however, I think she's the cutest little bee I've ever in my whole life seen!

Freshmen: Bah!

This week has done quite a bit to remind me that way too many 18-year-olds are a bunch of whiny babies. By the time I got home from teaching my classes this morning, I had pretty much had it with my students. I almost told my second section to go home after about 20 minutes of class, but then I decided that would be like a reward to them so I didn't. If I have to suffer in their company, they have to suffer in mine!

I'm sure I'm making more of this than the situation merits, but it's been a long week all around, and having to be in a room of students, many of which seem to have absolutely nothing invested in their education, was the final straw. I have two students who have not come for about five weeks (out of six) and suddenly showed up and seemed surprised that they had an F already for the semester. Apparently some students think that never going to class and not handing in a single assignment is worth a passing grade. The students who do come, particularly in my second section, have seemed this week to be in a glassy-eyed stupor. And I've had a couple of students email me sob stories about how they really are good writers but they can only write if they feel passionately about the topic. So in one guy's case, unless I spend the next 9 weeks (are there really 9 left??) assigning essays about metal (music) then I guess he won't be able to write.

The weird thing, and I've run into this before, is that in some of the students' cases I feel like I care more about their grade than they do. Yet I still let it bug me! I have to keep reminding myself that I already went to college and did just fine, and if they want to fail that's their boat to float. Perhaps they think I won't have the guts to fail them, but what they don't realize is that it isn't about guts. They will all get the grade they deserve, even the guy who was mad he got a B for writing a B-quality paper. His sob story was about how he wants to transfer to Cornell and therefore needs to get higher grades. I told him that I'd be happy to give him a higher grade if he earned it. He seemed affronted by that. Whatever. I know I sound bitter, because I am, but I think not doing anything with my teaching for at least the rest of the day will work wonders for my psyche. Most of the time I quite enjoy teaching, but this just hasn't been my week.

So, So Wet

For those of you who closely monitor the weather in Syracuse, you may have noticed that we've had above-average warm temperatures here, which I regard as nature's ultimate betrayal. Nature must have heard me badmouthing it, because it decided to take an untimely revenge this afternoon. Clara and I ran up to the university to see Daddy and stop in for a quick errand at the bookstore. As we drove up to the school, we found ourselves in the midst of a classic eastern torrent, but as tends to be the case, the storm was short-lived. By the time we found a nice parking place near the student center, the rain had lightened to a mere drizzle.

Moving quickly, I fed the meter, plopped Clara in her stroller, and headed towards the bookstore. Just as I realized I had chosen the wrong entrance and was facing a long flight of stairs with a stroller, Nature gave me what was coming to me, and the downpour began again in earnest. Summoning my momma-strength from deep within, I picked up Clara in her stroller and sprinted up the steps (and yes, Mom, my back does hurt), but I was not nearly fast enough. By the time we got into the building, I was literally dripping from my hair and hands, my shoes were making that squnchy noise that saturated shoes make, and my shirt and pants were plastered to my body. Clara made off a slight bit better, as she was partially covered by her stroller's canopy. But believe me, we were quite a rag-tag sight. I wheeled her to the bathroom and held her under the hand dryer for a while, but she quickly tired of that game. I spent some time under the dryer myself, thanking my good foresight in changing out of the white shirt I had worn to work that morning. And of course, within about 15 minutes the rain had more or less stopped for good. Which is how I know nature is out to get me.

(Incidentally, I think gravity might have it out for Clara, as she somehow pulled the piano bench onto her face this evening. My heart has finally recovered, but she has quite a bruise on her forehead, and therefore we may not be out much in company for a few days...)

Clara's Truck

Our friend Julia let Clara borrow this awesome push toy. Although she still struggles with walking, Clara loves to push it on her knees and is always pleased when Daddy gives her a ride on her "truck."

Grammy's Baked Beans

Clara just loved her lunch today: a nice tray full of baked beans. I'm just glad this happened during daddy-daughter time! Believe it or not, when I came home from teaching my class the only tell-tale sign was the bit of dried bean residue tucked into the crease of her neck. (Bonus in the first picture: you can see all three of her teeth!)