Soul Gardening

Epiphany, nee I Need Reinforcements

Why is it every single time Jeff leaves town for a week, Myles gets sick. Sleepless, vomit-y, fever-ish,  diarrhea-like sick?

Good god I haven't left the house in two days or brushed my teeth today and I may be losing it. I think I just saw the Imagination Movers dancing on my ceiling. Does eating half a box of All-Bran crackers and some extra-sharp cheddar count as dinner? At least the bran will cancel out the cheese.

The last three nights Myles has been up for hours at a time. He's napping less than an hour and at lunch, he vomited half chewed hot dog, sliced tomatoes and curdled milk pretty spectacularly.

Jeff doesn't get back until Friday night and he's been gone since last Saturday.

Of course I just paid for 10 weeks of mommy and me music class and it's the most beautiful weather of the year right now.

Send help. Also Tecate and whole milk as I'm not sure I'm going to make it out to the store tomorrow and we need provisions.

**********************************
I was just about to hit the publish button on this when Myles woke up screaming for what I am sure is not the last time tonight.

I went into his room to comfort him. I picked up his shaking body, still light enough that it's never a burden to carry him around. I cradled him in my arms and sat in the rocking chair in his room, still left over from our breastfeeding days.

And I realized we may not have many moments like this left; moments when he is still small enough to be completely enfolded in my arms, when I can soothe him with my voice and my touch.

Even though everything I wrote above is still true, I already feel a little better.

Sticky Ball

Jeff and I went to a black tie event Friday night. It was actually a Ball. The story behind why we were attending a Ball is complicated and difficult to explain and also not that important to the story. It's much more interesting to note what happened before the Ball as I was getting ready Friday afternoon.

A little back story: We are incredibly lucky in so many ways to have Jeff's parents living less than 15 minutes away, the least of which is that we have free babysitting pretty much anytime we need it. And Myles loves spending time with his grandparents so it's an ideal situation.

Jeff's mom came over Friday around 4:30 to pick Myles up, giving me a chance to get ready unmolested by a toddler who will do just about anything for my undivided attention. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, heaven. But, I only had an hour to get showered and dressed, slap on some makeup and do something with my fingernails and toenails to make them look less like goat hooves.

Somehow, there is always a direct correlation between the small amount of time that I have to primp and my desire to do things I haven't done in months. Usually this means I'll suddenly decide I need to deep condition my hair or use a facial mask taking an additional ten minutes that I don't have. This time, it occurred to me that I should exfoliate my skin. 

There's an Origins product I love that comes in a glass jar. It's an oil and sea salt emulsion that you use in the shower. It smells like ginger and makes my skin feel like silk. I've had this particular jar for a while:

 

And I was down to the last little bit. 

As I scooped out the dregs from the bottom of the jar I noticed that the texture was a little off. It seemed as if the oil had congealed. "No matter" I thought as I hurriedly forged ahead. I figured it would melt in the heat of the shower.

I slapped a giant wad of goop on my body and began madly rubbing it everywhere I could reach. Then I realized the stuff wasn't dissolving. It also wasn't spreading the way it was supposed to, instead remaining in a ball of what I can only describe as the consistency of rubber cement.

At this point I only had about half an hour to finish getting dressed so I quickly tried to rinse off, thinking I could wipe off the remnants with my towel. As I began frenetically scrubbing myself with a towel the fine, tacky sheen on my entire body began to turn into tiny, gray balls of glue that lodged themselves into the hair on my arms and stuck anywhere else there might have been fuzz on my body. 

Now I was beginning to see the error of my ways.

I called to Jeff (who was already showered and dressed except for his tie) to help, but rather than offering any good suggestions he just laughed at me. So, with 25 minutes to spare I got back in the shower, turned the water as hot as I could stand it and began scouring myself with a more traditional body scrub. My skin began turning the color of an angry sunburn.

By the time I was finished, I had removed most of the adhesive, along with my epidermis, so mission accomplished I guess, since my original goal had been exfoliation. My skin returned to its normal shade and remained only slightly tacky, especially in areas like the crook of my elbow and behind my knees. 

We made it out the door in time to get some sushi before the ball and in the end, we both cleaned up pretty well.

In Which She Abandons All Reason and Resorts to Sharp Objects

I cut my own hair this week.

I know this isn't a huge deal to those of you who do this type of thing on a regular basis. But trust me, the circumstances had to have been dire indeed for me to get to this point. In fact in my entire life, this is my first time.

My history with hair trouble has been long and often painful (hehhehheh). I have super curly, fine red hair. While I am not in fact a stylist, I have been watching while my hair has been cut over the last 37 years and I do have some idea of how the general physics work at this point - at least to the extent that I ASK my stylist, very specifically and often with visual aids every single time to cut my hair in a very particular way.

Unfortunately, it's been some time since I have found anyone who seems to know what they are doing and I've ended up with several unfortunate shapes of coiffure of late, including the mullet, the pyramid and the cotton ball. I don't entirely blame the person/s who have been tasked with cutting my hair. Since pregnancy and breastfeeding, it has gotten much thinner and finer than ever before, no doubt making it harder to get the perfect style.However I do expect the stylist to at least attempt to give me what I ask for. The results over the last year and a half have borne a very distant resemblance to what I have described at the outset.

After a string of particularly regrettable hair encounters over the last few months, the most recent of which has left me with a few spots in which my bare scalp actually shows through, I decided to take matters literally into my own hands.

Here are the results.

Front view - much shorter than I would like, but this is literally the third time I have had my hair cut in two months. As a result of several inauspicious salon encounters, I actually had to even it out because is was lopsided, more than an inch longer on the left side.

(Also, please forgive my loony grin; I never know what expression to make when I'm taking my own picture and I may have had several glasses of wine...how else would I have gotten the courage to cut my own hair?)                                                                                                                     

Here is the back. Let me assure you that I didn't touch the length on top. Those bald spots are solely the result of my most recent hack job at the salon. I am beginning to wonder if this is some kind of karmic punishment. Seriously.
I had to even out the sides and back, below the ears so that it didn't look quite so mullet-y. I'm actually really proud of the results, all things considered.                                                                  
So, who knows, I may give up salon styling entirely and just cut my own hair from now on. Although I have a feeling if that happens, a year from now you would be reading and viewing a completely different kind of post.

Cheers and here's hoping all your salon encounters this holiday season are much more productive and satisfying.

Laryngitis, 42 Bites and Failure To Thrive

I'm not done yet. I know it seems like it, but I'm not.

I've lost my voice for awhile now. I haven't had time or energy or inspiration to write anything and I'm not sure how long it will be before I'm able to do so again on a regular basis but I wanted to get some things down during this time so I don't forget.

Things have been good at times, blissfully incredibly wonderful. We've done a lot of incredible things in the last few months and have had visits from friends and family. But life has also been difficult and draining and frightening.

I'm going to borrow text from an e-mail I sent to some wonderful blog friends who have inquired in the last month or two because I literally do not have the energy or the time to come up with something new but I want to get this all down so I don't forget. Because I figure someday soon, things are going to be better and when they are I want to look back on this time and see how far I've come.

Myles' first birthday was April 28th and I cannot believe how fast this year has gone. He's walking. Oh my GOD. And he's sweet and and smart and funny and happy (sometimes) but he's also difficult and emotional and high maintenance (I think the politically correct term is spirited and man is he ever) and he's been diagnosed with an eating/speech delay that we are trying very hard to correct.

I don't get much time to myself when Myles is awake because he pretty much relentlessly demands every second of my attention. And while we have finally got him sleeping mostly through the night (he only wakes up once or twice and I don't feed him anymore), he's not much of a napper which leaves me very little time during the day to get anything done. I rarely get to check my e-mail anymore and blogging is a luxury.

There are times when I have to put Myles in his crib and let him cry (okay, scream) just so I can get a shower or brush my teeth. I didn't think things would still be this intense at one year and I know many of you seasoned parents will chuckle here at my naivete.

The eating delay - at 12 months, Myles still cannot eat/chew/swallow anything that has any kind of texture. This means that we are still feeding him stage 2 (pureed) baby food and it has been a major struggle to get him to eat and gain weight. Two weeks ago at his one year check up he weighed 15 pounds 13 ounces.

The thickest food that he can manage is the stage 2 stuff. If we give him anything with chunks in it, he swallows the more liquidy part and spits out the chunks. He doesn't seem to have an issue with putting food or other things in his mouth, but he just never swallows any of it. On the bright side, I don't have to be as vigilant about him eating the cat food because he won't swallow it anyway.

Thus far he has been tested for Graves' disease and thyrotoxicosis (both negative) and a blood screen has been ordered for Cystic Fibrosis, Leukemia and Celiac disease because he hasn't gained any weight in three months. Yesterday we did a complete upper GI radiology series just to rule out any physical malformations or abnormalities.

Right around the time of my last post I was in the middle of trying to get an evaluation through our state's Early Steps (early intervention) program. Though it's taken a few months and several rounds of beurocratic bullshit, he was finally seen by a team of developmental specialists a few weeks ago. This is HUGE for us because it means we don't have to pay out of pocket for therapy which we are doing for all of Myles' other treatment and testing because our private health insurance has excluded GI conditions as pre-existing due to a reflux diagnosis he got as an infant.

As I suspected, he has no major developmental delays other than the oral motor problem that is causing him to gag at any kind of textured food. This will probably also mean a slight speech delay. At this point, we've had one session with an occupational therapist who has given us some exercises to help strengthen his oral muscles and desensitize his gag reflex.

I'm pretty sure there is something physiological going on that may be causing the hypersensitive gag reflex but that it is not the only problem. After we get the radiology results, we'll be heading back for a radiology swallow test that will show exactly how the mechanics of his mouth works as he eats and drinks and I am hoping more than I can say that this will tell us what is wrong.

I'm not going to sugar coat it. All of this has been so hard for me. I know in the grand scheme of things we are incredibly lucky that Myles' problem is not worse. In the last few weeks, I have seen some kids Myles' age and younger in much worse situations. But the truth is, trying to get Myles to just eat and to eat enough to sustain his weight is a full time job on top of the fact that he's an extremely high energy and emotional kid and I end each day exhausted and frazzled.

I'm still battling major hormonal issues. I quit taking the anti-depressant I was on two months ago because it didn't really seem to be helping with the negative stuff and it basically dulled me out so much I felt like I wasn't experiencing any emotions at all, happy or sad. I went to see my doctor for a new prescription (Lexapro -  anyone know anything about it? I've never tried this class of drugs that works on dopamine rather than seratonin but I'll try anything at this point.) that I can start when Myles is weaned.

I've decided against my better judgment to wean him now because I need this medication desperately and additionally we need to know exactly how many calories Myles is consuming each day (as if I didn't already aside from the breastmilk).  I'm struggling to get enough calories into him with the pureed food. I've been mixing in powdered formula and oatmeal with everything he eats and his doctor has also recommended that we start putting olive oil in his food. Doesn't sound very appetizing to me, but I'll try anything.

Jeff is traveling a lot for work and I struggle to keep my head above water when he's gone. There are many days that I feel like a terrible mother for getting frustrated with Myles when he won't eat or sleep. I don't want mealtime to become a battleground, but every feeding seems like an insurmountable obstacle and I worry about his nutrition/weight gain almost constantly.

I feel like I'm admitting defeat because this isn't working for me. Sometimes I hate being a mother because it just all seems so fucking hard and I know it shouldn't be and I feel like Myles is missing out on a lot because we waste so much time trying to get him to do the most basic things like eat and sleep. I resent that I don't have time for myself and that I'm not taking care of myself the way I should and I feel guilty for resenting anything that has to do with Myles when none of this is his fault.

I wish I had the time and energy to get back into writing on a more regular basis. It would really do me good right now, but I just can't, not only because of time constraints but also because I don't know what to say anymore. I don't feel like I have much of anything positive to write about and the negative stuff is just swirling around in my head in an incoherent jumble.

I hate to sound like such a downer. Aside from the feeding and weight issues, things are pretty good, but unfortunately the eating thing pretty much dominates our lives. And I know I need to take care of myself because my energy and patience levels are nowhere near where they need to be to handle all of this and that really just scratches the surface of how all of our lives have been affected.

It simply shouldn't be this hard, but it is. And my beautiful boy deserves a mom who can handle things much better than I have been. And I want to find my voice again. And I want things to be okay, for him and for me and for Jeff.

Mostly I want to find my voice again.

42 Bites referred to in the title - the exact amount of spoonfuls it takes to get 4 ounces of pureed baby food (mixed with olive oil, oatmeal and powdered formula) into my son in any given meal. Sometimes on rare occasions it takes ten minutes. This morning it took an hour an a half.

***Failure to Thrive - the diagnosis Myles has been given as a result of being under 16 pounds at 12 months when according to the doctors based on his height he should be closer to 22. That's 35% or more underweight for anyone keeping track.

En Vino Veritas

He may look like his father, but the kid takes after me in more ways than one.

Luckily the wine cabinet has a door that can be locked, although right now we have it "child-proofed" with a twist-tie.

Next post I'll share my plan to weave baby gates out of hemp. 

Minutes

Here's a question I've asked myself pretty frequently: "Does it reflect badly on my mothering skills that my child's favorite toys are a champagne cork and a feathery cat toy on a stick?" The conclusion that I've reached is that if there is something out there that keeps Myles occupied and quiet for five minutes that won't stab, burn or otherwise maim him, by god, he can have it.

And here's a mantra that I've been repeating over and over lately: "Motherhood is an endurance sport." It really feels like I'm at mile 8 of a marathon every single day. I suppose all of this will get a lot easier when the PPD eases up (any day now, seriously, universe I've had enough). But there are some things that will be the same, PPD or not.

Myles is a pretty high maintenance kid, requiring my almost undivided attention when he's awake. Maybe all boys are like this, or all ten month olds for that matter, but he's only content to sit and play by himself for a few minutes at a time, barely long enough for me to run to the bathroom or grab something to eat. And since he's pulling up and cruising on anything he can and we have ceramic tile floors, the solution is either to get him a helmet, or keep a constant eye on him.

For the record, I'm seriously considering the helmet, at least for him to wear at home. I don't want to humiliate the kid, just keep him from giving himself daily concussions. So. Damn. Rambunctious.

The sleep situation has improved ever so slightly since my last post. The longest stretch Myles has ever slept at night is seven hours. That only happens once in a blue moon though and he's still waking up at least twice a night. Last night he was up twice, once from 3-4am.

So I'm still having a hard time coping, especially when Jeff is out of town which he has been all week. As for daily naps, there is no regular schedule - usually 20-40 minutes in the morning is the most I can count on and he's been forgoing afternoon naps altogether lately.

Aaannndddd. I know someone mentioned in comments on my last post that it seems I'm always talking about Myles' size. So, if you don't want to hear more about my tiny boy and what we've been doing about it, you might skip ahead a few paragraphs. At his nine month check up a few weeks ago, he was 15 pounds 3 ounces, literally not even on the growth charts. At 27 1/2 inches he's still only 22nd percentile for height.

There's nothing I can do about his height, and I don't really care. He's probably not going to be tall. No big deal. But we have to do something about his weight and the even bigger problem of his issues around eating.

He's being evaluated by an early intervention specialist for some possible oral motor delays. I don't think he's got a serious problem, but at ten months I know he should be able to swallow chunks of food. He doesn't. He can't swallow anything that isn't a thick puree. He gags and spits out anything with any texture. This has been an ongoing issue and it's nearly impossible for me to get enough calories into him with purees and breastfeeding alone.

Luckily the problem seems to be confined to eating. His verbal skills seem to be on track and if they're not hopefully any therapy he gets for the eating issue would correct speech as well. Additionally, he doesn't have motor skills problems. He picks up the cereal and vegetables and teething toast and puts them in his mouth. He even swishes them around, but eventually they all get spit back out. It seems like he just needs some help in learning how to get the food to the back of his mouth and swallowing it.

In the meantime I've been upping his caloric intake and gradually getting him used to thicker purees by mixing all of his food with powdered formula and oatmeal cereal. It seems to be working already. And even if turns out that the evaluation shows a slight delay that will correct itself without therapy, then at least I'll know what to do.

All of this worry around what and how much Myles eats and trying to be patient with him while simultaneously fighting with him to get him to eat solids three times a day has been an ongoing thing and it's utterly exhausting

I just keep thinking that sooner or later I'll have more time for myself, that I'll have more energy and won't just want to collapse on the couch and watch election coverage (Which by the way is fascinating. I'm more into this election than any in my lifetime.) whenever Myles goes down for a nap or to bed at night.    

On the other hand, this kid is beautiful and funny (so funny) and sweet and high energy and smart and filled with an incredible personality that I'm learning more and more about every day. Yes, he makes me work for it, harder than I've worked for anything in quite some time. He's strong willed and stubborn and easily frustrated and if he's not happy about something everyone knows it.

But the reward is that every day, with increasing frequency we have these perfect moments, these amazing encounters in which we completely understand one another - like when Myles initiates a game of monkey see-monkey do or another game I call "name your facial features" in which he touches my eyes, nose and mouth and I touch his, telling him what they're called.

Those are the times when I realize with perfect clarity that in some respects things will get easier soon and in others they are about to get so much more challenging. Because he's going to be walking before long, god help us all. But he's also going to be talking in earnest and hopefully using some of the signs we've been teaching him. And man, it's going to be nice to be able to communicate with him.

So, I'm realizing that's the way motherhood goes. You reach the top of what you thought was a really high mountain only to see an even steeper one ahead of you. But if you're lucky you get to enjoy the climb and you can make a game out of getting to the bottom by rolling over over and over through the grass.

Who doesn't love that?

Happy Medium

Ever wonder where that phrase comes from - happy medium? It seems to mean finding satisfaction with things as they are, not how they might be or could be or should be or whatever.

I can't believe it's been more than a month since I posted here. In the two and half years I've been writing online, no more than a week ever has gone by since I've found my way back to this space.

Things have been filled with dichotomies for me lately. I'm amazed every day by Myles and how his development seems to increase exponentially with each week that passes but I'm often so tired I can't fully appreciate it. Myles is crawling all over, bright and happy and strong yet at only a little over 15 pounds at nine months, I worry that his physical development is behind. I vascillate between feeling so incredibly lucky to have the things I have and hating myself for not being able to enjoy it properly.

Myles doesn't sleep well. There's not much else to say about it. He wakes up  at least two times a night but on average, more like five. I know that I am a huge contributor to this problem. Since he's still small for his age (okay, he's fallen off the growth charts, three month olds are bigger than he is) I worried that he shouldn't miss an opportunity to eat. So for the longest time, whenever he would wake up at night, I would feed him.  I created a monster, so to speak and now we're all paying for it. I truly had no idea how much lack of quality sleep can effect every single aspect of your life.

We started sleep training a little over a week ago and things are already getting better. This week if Myles has woken at night, we either let him settle himself or Jeff goes in and calms him but I don't feed him. Unfortunately if he's awake, I'm awake. It's going to take a little time, but we have a plan and I feel pretty good about the goal of both of us sleeping through the night in another month or two.

The other issue is with Myles not being too excited to start on solids and he will not. take a bottle. Blah blah, yadda yadda - the uptake is that it will probably be another three to five months before I can think about weaning him, which means that I can't change or increase the medication I've been taking for whatever this post-partum issue is that I'm having. And I know without a doubt that I really need to do one or both, but I'm waiting until Myles is weaned to make do anything. This is not a decision I've come to easily.

So I'm not great right now. I'm mostly tired and scared and worried and I feel incredibly guilty that I'm not enjoying my beautiful, high energy, incredibly high maintenance or so it seems to me at the moment, healthy, happy, smart boy. I just don't feel that I have the patience, the grace, the fortitude that I need to be the kind of mother he deserves at the moment.

There are things I need to do: I need to move my body more often. I need to get Myles outside in the sunshine more. I need to start writing again. I need to tell Jeff what is going on with me instead of just expecting him to know. I need to start asking for help. I need to start getting out of the house and getting out of my own head. I need to get back online because I miss those connections terribly.

Thank you so much to everyone who has commented or e-mailed. I'm constantly amazed by how much these relationships mean to me and I feel awful that I don't know what is going on in your lives at the moment.   

I'm making it a priority. Starting now. Somewhere, I'll find that happy medium between having three hours of uninterrupted sleep or six, worrying about Myles being too small or wondering over how insanely active he is, being angry with myself for not being, doing, feeling what I think I should or being gentle with myself as I navigate this completely new territory, posting once a month or every day. 

And I'll be happy. We all will.

Thomas Wolfe Had It All Wrong

You CAN go home again. You just have to sneak around and wear a disguise.

We were in Columbus, Ohio again last week because apparently we can't get enough of winter weather. Actually, Jeff was traveling for work and I didn't want to be at home by myself so Myles and I tagged along to spend some time with our Ohio friends, one of whom was having a baby shower and who ended up going into labor while we were there. Never a dull moment.

I was so glad I got to be there to see the baby and to help out with her 2 1/2 year old twins (I KNOW, she's crazy right? I spent a day with them and Myles and all I did was change diapers.) while she and her husband were at the hospital.

Before the unexpected labor and delivery however, I did something not many people get an opportunity to do. I snuck into my old house and had a look around.

For those of you who are still reading and may not remember, Jeff and I renovated a 125 year old historic home in Columbus, Ohio, inside and out. You can click the links for photos. It was a total labor of love and if I could have picked the house up and moved it with us to Florida, I would have done so.

It just so happened that the new owner of our house was having a holiday open house the Sunday we were there and my friend (who was also my neighbor) convinced me after a few drinks to go with her and see how the house has changed.

Under normal circumstances, I would have just introduced myself to the new owner and asked for a tour of the house. But after what she did to our fish, I didn't think I would be able to keep it civil, so, I donned a hat and my glasses and went in disguise.

I can't describe the utter strangeness of walking into a house that I had spent so much time and effort restoring as to know every crack, crevice and imperfection, and seeing someone else's things in it. There were about 25 people there for the open house so I blended in pretty well. I went into the kitchen with my friend, got myself a drink and had to restrain myself from leaning on the counter.

For the most part, everything we had done inside was the same, aside from a few rooms that she had painted. The outside has really gotten overgrown though. There were so many little things about the house and our time there that came flooding back to me.

Jeff and I got engaged in front of the fireplace in the middle room. We busted our asses working on renovations and landscaping for almost a year. We spent countless lazy Sundays in front of the fire while snow fell outside and rocked in the hammock with a bottle of wine when the weather was warm.

We started trying to have a baby in that house. And while Myles ultimately decided to be a Florida baby, I will never forget the hope and love and strength that Jeff and I shared during that time when things were so uncertain.

Things have been a little uneven for me this year. I've been off-kilter. Post-partum depression knocked me flat and I'm still struggling to get back up. Walking into my old home and rubbing elbows with my old life? It was just the reminder I needed to remember that things change.

Life is impermanent, ephemeral. Nothing stays the same whether we want it to or not. When we left Columbus 18 months ago, we didn't know where we would land, or if we would ever have a child.  Now, the last 8 months have passed in what seems like no time at all.

And my idea of "home"? Well, that has changed too.

 

 

Loop, Here. Me, Waaayyyy Over There

Whooo-eeeee.

I had no intention of staying away so long. Don't worry, I'm not going to bore anyone with all the minutiae of our lives that has made my free (awake) time pretty much non-existent. But let me say just two words before I move on: Ear Infection. This has been Myles' first real illness and since it happened when we were traveling for Thanksgiving, it was a doozy.

We're all on the road to recovery and getting back to normal now and I hope to get caught up with everything I've missed. Here are a few things that I've been wondering about:

• Did Chris, Alexa and Feral Mom make it through the 30 days of NaBloPoMo?
• How are pregnancies progressing for Julie, Sundry, Her Bad Mother, Jessamyn, Jessie and Jess? 
• Is Palinode recovered from his back surgery?
• How are wedding plans coming for Tink and Chase?
• Have Stella and Jonniker sold their houses yet?
• Are Catalina, Dawn and Bobita winding down another semester or are they still buried under mountains of papers and schoolwork?
• Does anyone still have me in their bloglines queue?

These and many more burning questions have been on my mind in the last few weeks. I hope you all are still out there checking in on me every now and then. Life has not allowed me much time to write or blog recently but I don't think that's necessarily been a bad thing. I've read some actual books lately for one thing.

Anyway, I still have a lot to say and oh my God now I have to shop for Christmas and get my cards written and mailed.

I know this is just going to piss off all my northern type friends, but I'm having a REALLY hard time transisitoning to the holiday season when it's still sunny and in the 80s here. It's so weird to see palm trees festooned with twinkle lights and houses hung with icicle bulbs. I never in a million years thought I would miss the change of seasons and I don't really, it's just hard to get used to.

And is anyone else freaking out over how fast the holidays snuck up this year? How about my sistahs in new motherhood, some of whom are rocking it with more than one child? Can I get a Hell Yes?

I'm back this week. I swear. For now, I'll leave you with a photo - my favorite from the last few weeks.

He loved looking out the window while we were landing and he was an absolute prince, even though I know his ear was probably killing him.

Happy Holidays and all that jazz!

NaBlo No No

It's NaNoBloWhatever and I figure most everyone is too busy writing or reading all the daily posts to keep up. Also Jeff has been traveling like a madman, having just returned from the UK and getting ready to leave again on Wednesday.

On top of being a single mom for almost the entire month thus far, Myles is teething and keeping both of us up all night for the last four days, turning my brain to mush. AND I have to get ready to fly by myself with Myles on Saturday for a Thanksgiving trip to meet Jeff in Columbus, OH to see some of our dearest friends. Flying alone with a six month old is a piece of cake, right? Anyone?

So I give you another photo post. It's quick, it's easy and I promise l won't be posting 30 times this month. Godspeed to all you NaNo/NaBlo participants though. I salute you.

This, taken at a cool island blues festival on Saturday, proves that Myles was created from Jeff's cloned genetic material. Pay special attention to the right eyebrows. 

The weather has been absolutely phenomenal lately and we've taken every opportunity to be outside.

Sunset over the Caloosahatchee

Jeff took off early today as comp time for his crazy travel schedule of late. We kicked around downtown this afternoon.

Pilings at the city marina:

This is the strangest tree I've ever seen. I think the blooming branches, which have smooth bark, have been grafted onto some type of cactus. Anyone have any ideas? I was actually thinking of going back and asking the owner what it was.

Close-up of the bark/trunk/cactus thing:

Go Gators!