a leetle video with Brother Dave

Well, here's something different! David heard about a family competition on the CBS Early Show, so we spent the last few days before he headed back to school creating a video of his song, "Misery." Here it is, as posted to youtube. If you've got a good internet connection, you can watch the video from youtube's site and click the "high definition" link below the screen to see it in the best quality.

You can also watch it at the CBS link along with the other contestants' entries: http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/09/22/earlyshow/main4467526.shtml. If you do that, be prepared for a very interesting slice of American family life, in all its endearing, bizarre, and varied glory!

P.S. We won't be the least bit offended if you post our video to your blog or space or facebook or whathaveyou to help us spread the misery.

Papa and Zoralee

Don't mind me. I'll just be lying here,

roughly the size of a dinner plate.

Um, can I help you?

getting pats on the buns in the sun

I have sat down to blogged many times.

Um, make that "to blog." I'll leave that typo as a delicious indicator of fatigue.

The soundtrack to my life includes at the moment a fit-throwing infant. For no reason that we can tell of. I think she's over-tired and just can't deal. It almost always happens late like this, but none of the husband's tricks are working tonight. He's fixing to lay down with her on his chest and let her cry. So...as I was saying, I have sat down to blog many times with lots to say, but I look around the house and see receiving blankets, clothes, bags of tortilla chips, computer cords, and dirty dishes haphazardly strewn about, and I am drawn to put them in their places. I don't know why, because as soon as I turn my head, they go back to where they don't belong.

Entropy: a process of degeneration marked variously by increasing degrees of uncertainty, disorder, fragmentation, chaos, etc. [Webster's College Dictionary, Fourth Edition]

We're at five weeks. Some of my primary thoughts throughout the days (which all run together) are these:

1. HOLY CRAP! WE HAVE A KID!
2. What extra activities should I prioritize? "Extra" being talking to people I love on the telephone, taking a bath, writing thank you cards, and cooking real meals, where the food is hot and has multiple ingredients.
3. How on EARTH do single moms do this? I have a great support system, with a husband who has been home since the birth on account of not starting his next job until February, and a mom and pops who live right upstairs! And I'm still worn out.
4. There is a chance we are too old to be starting in on this. Like, we sort of stuck our tongue out at Nature, and now she's sticking hers out, right back at us.

I really can't complain on the whole. I have had plenty of socialization and opportunity for games and frolicking. I guess the specific problem, if you can call it that, is the lack of solid sleep. There is a reason why sleep deprivation is a torture technique, after all.

But enough of all that. Here are the redeeming moments!

1. Zoralee has been smiling more and more intentionally, and let me tell you, the power surge that goes through me when that happens, wow!
2. She is much calmer about everyday experiences like getting a diaper change, somehow realizing now that we are not, in fact, trying to kill her.
3. She loves baths! When she first hits the water, she's skeptical, but skepticism defines her anyway, so that's nothing. Then in an instant, she relaxes and actually rests her arms on the edge of the tub. It's rad.
4. What a sweet experience to hold her tiny body against me while she nurses. Her brows finally un-furrow after a long day of being grumpy, and she relaxes to the point of hypnosis.
5. And here's perhaps the best thing so far. Last week Zoralee was lying on the bed without a diaper, for the purpose of airing out her bum. I was standing nearby. Jason was on the bed at Zoralee's head, cooing to her and poking gently at her stomach, remarking that it seemed a bit bloated. All at once, this child let loose a blast of poo that shotgunned across the room. Both of us saw it. If we had a video of it, we'd be millionaires. Jason's first words were "GO GET THE MEASURING TAPE," which I did. Travelling distance was six feet, folks. And it would've been way further if it hadn't been stopped by the bassinet, because there wasn't a lot of elevation drop even at six feet out. Jason's next comments were that he was so proud of his daughter, and that even he couldn't have done that.

So yeah, the last point there wasn't initially a redeeming moment for me, because Jason had to go to an appointment and I was left to clean it up alone. But now it makes for a good story. When I told Luke over the phone, his comments mimicked Jason's almost exactly: this was the best thing he'd ever heard of a baby doing, and that even he couldn't have done that. Yes, she is making us proud.

Okay, pictures will be posted soon! Maybe even one or two tonight, before I crash.

Anniversary Party show

Last week we went to see Anniversary Party at an intimate venue in Whitefish called The Church, an old, very small A-frame style church that is used now for art and music and as a meeting place. Anniversary Party is comprised of a husband-wife duo, Kirk Cornelius and Annette Cornelius Strean; their style is alternative/accoustic/electronica. I hear hints of Latin rhythms too. I graduated from high school with Annette. She had then and still has what I consider to be one of the world's most beautiful voices. She's got amazing control, a big range, and an endless supply of vocal expressions. She is not boring to listen to or watch.

I also saw for the first time in 14 years a bunch of people I went to school with. In fact, I was sitting next to two of them and didn't recognize them - people I'd spent quite a bit of time with back then! Freaky deaky. The low lights didn't help, but still.


I loved the small town-ness of the show. Of course, this is a small town, but Annette has lived in Nashville and New York City, been in groups like Venus Hum and Blue Man Group, playing before huge audiences, appearing on national t.v., and touring internationally. And here, it was her sister and niece taking money at the door and stamping hands with whatever stamp they dug up at home. During the last song, the kids dropped coffee filter snowflakes from the balcony, and they floated down one by one, landing on heads and laps and hands. It was a beautiful show, a cocoon of warmth and subdued colored lights, while outside the snow kept falling and stacking up.

happy birthday, beautiful!

Today is the thirtieth birthday of my sister, the person with whom I share more formative memories and experiences than anyone else on earth. I love Rachel with such an intense love that I sometimes fear what would become of me if she were gone. So much of my identity is/was affected by her existence. Every time our birthdays roll around, six days apart, I remember the matching pink and purple crocheted afghans we got one birthday. Matching presents happened a lot, pink for Rachel and purple for me.

This is the first time I held her.

Mom wrote in the photo album that I called and called the hospital to find out when Rachel would be home. It feels like an accurate snapshot of an enduring, lifelong feeling I have of my sister, a picture that I hope over life's course will outshine those times that I have failed to hold her, out of my ignorance or blindness.

Rachel is a very strong woman, funny as hell, frank to the death, a loyal friend. Many, many people are better off for her presence in the world. I am one.

Today is also the birthday of Rachel's namesake, our Grandma Maxine, who passed away this fall. Here they are together 30 years ago! There are better photos of them together, I'm sure, but I love this one because of Rachel's intensity over a plastic egg.

And here she is modern day. Modern 7 days ago, actually, on New Years' with Cam. She and two girlfriends dressed up crazy funky and went out with their husbands. They dressed normal normal.

lions

I've found it! There is a bit of us in Zoralee. Our lion genes are coming through.

The image of a lioness was important to me during my last trimester, when I was envisioning giving birth. She represents unwavering strength, stability, grace, and efficiency. From what I read, a lot of laboring women are helped by imagining or looking at pictures or artwork of certain animals.

When Zoralee was a week old and we were first adjusting to sleep deprivation, I had a dream that Jason and I were riding along in a Jeep over rough back roads, hunting. Then I had an overhead view of the scene and saw a dead lion and lioness in the back of the Jeep. I knew that they were us too. When I awoke (probably within an hour of konking out), I thought about how fitting it was that we were both the hunters and the hunted; we'd put ourselves in this situation, essentially killing ourselves. Ha! Reminds me of a Jerry Seinfeld sketch about his newborn baby. The idea was that babies look innocent, but they're actually a reminder of your own frailty and mortality. "Make no mistake about it - they're here to replace us!"

And now, in her fourth week of life, Zoralee has turned into a regular baby lion! She cries a little less now when she wants something and growls instead. No foolin. In the night, when she's sleeping fitfully, she growls and grunts until she wakes herself enough to cry. We've been thinking it is the influence of Molly the Schnauzer, who growls as her primary communication, no matter her emotion. Could be, but I think there's a little lion in Zoralee too.

Christmas time

Merry Christmas, friends! And happy new year. And happy six days in between.

The holiday thing we looked the most forward to was Zoralee meeting her Aunt Rachel and Uncle Cam. They had actually driven over from Portland for the birth when my waters began leaking in early December, but they had to return home a couple days later, before the delivery, on account of work and responsibilities. So, this was their first, much anticipated, out-of-womb meeting.

All of us kids and the three spouses were home, and we were joined by Cameron's mom, Linda, and Jason's mom, Barbara. The star of the show was our very own Zoralee Rena; it has been quite some time since there has been a baby around. She put forth a veritable plethora of facial expressions and bodily poses, which warranted taking, oh, roughly 4,937 photos. It's kind of sad to see the focus switch so suddenly and thoroughly away from the family's dogs, but Gunther and Molly wore jingle bell collars, and Murray and Peanut wore a Santa beard and an elf costume, respectively, so the cameras were turned on them for at least a few minutes.

* * *

We always read the Christmas story as recorded in the Gospel of Luke before delving into gift opening, and this year I was the reader. New things struck me, having just given birth myself. What a walk or donkey ride that must've been as Mary and Joseph approached Bethlehem, she being very close to delivery. For months ahead, I prepared my surroundings for labor; Mary had to take what was available. In this case, a stable. I was surrounded by family, she by cattle. The image of a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes is so fresh to me. I've seen or heard the line a thousand times, but now I have a swaddled baby myself, and I know the feel of her so securely wrapped, so sweetly scented, and in my arms. Mary received visitors, worshippers who knew her babe was special, a gift to the world. I watch my baby receive extra love and attention too, because she's the first of her generation in our family, a symbol of hope, of the continuation of our ways.

* * *

And Mary pondered these things and treasured them in her heart. Me too.

(Jason took this last photo tonight)

* * *

Our Christmas time activities were playing Tripole, Risk, and Scrabble, watching movies, shoveling snow, piling into a borrowed van to tour Christmas light displays on common houses around the Valley (it was a pretty measly showing "in these hard times"), experimenting with having the horses pull sleds, eating seafood chowder and other delights, and passing the baby around.

pouting babies: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em

three strikes

In two days' time last week, we got three self-induced parenting strikes. Fortunately, no one has showed up on our doorstep to declare us out of the game.

Strike One:

Jason, Barb, and Zoralee dropped me off at the salon to get a trim, and then they headed to the coffee shop. Once there, Jason hopped out of the pickup and started walking inside, only to turn around and see his mother still standing by the pickup looking confused. "What's the matter, Ma?" he asked. "Well, aren't we taking the baby inside?" she said. Oh yeah. The baby.

Strike Two:

Last Sunday was such a busy day with church, Heather's birthday lunch, and going to see the completed music studio that Luke has been working on for months (which I'm so proud of him for - he used lots of salvaged materials and free labor from friends in exchange for studio time)...

...that I somehow forgot to change Zoralee's diaper for like EIGHT HOURS. I had a good cry over that one.

Strike Three (the least traumatic):

That same Sunday morning, I had rifled through all her clothes trying to find some type of pants or leggings to go with her purple dress. I don't take matching too seriously, but this dress was given to her by one of our fellow church-goers, so I didn't just want to throw on green striped pants. I couldn't find anything, so eventually we took her with bare legs and an extra blanket. That evening when I finally did change her diaper, I discovered the third strike:

I had laundered the purple dress, put it on Zoralee, and given her a previous diaper changing that day without seeing the panties attached to the inside. What's worse, the dress buttons up the back, so when I initally dressed her, the thing must've been splayed fully open.

Awesome.

parenting Zoralee: reflections at two weeks

We love our Zoralee! She is wonderful. She is lovely.

She looks nothing like either one of us (to our own eyes), so I'll admit we occasionally feel robbed, but a hospital switch-up is impossible. She needn't be anybody's spitten image, though a couple of obvious genetic links to us would be nice. Maybe with time. Ironically, we do see extended family members in her sometimes.

with Grandma Barbara, visiting from MarylandUncle Dave and the girls

A new baby sleeps an inordinate amount of time, so how are we far, far behind on housework, laundry, and communication with friends and family?! We're in some kind of a productivity-sucking vortex. I think it's because yes, the baby is sleeping a lot, but also yes, she wakes up a lot too and doesn't hop up to fix herself a sandwich.

at Lula's for lunch

Speaking of laundry, there is suddenly a lot of it, on account of the wide variety of bodily fluids that end up on every article of clothing and linen. Truly, between a new mom and baby, there are like 10 different fluids that pass down, around, through, and between. If you get a little squirt of poo on, say, a bed sheet, after about 30 seconds of trying to wash it in the sink while keeping the water localized to the dirty spot, you realize it's way easier to throw the whole darn thing into the laundry basket.

observing a sheet: a good 20 minutes of entertainment

Zoralee spent most of week 1 naked, just swaddled up tight in a blanket, other than one or two of her short social engagements. We thought this was the smartest thing to do, because a) putting clothes on a baby is a waste of precious energy, and b) why not let her be free from such shackles as long as possible? Both of her grandmothers, independently, thought this was just awful, so we succumbed to peer pressures and started clothing her. At first, Jason and I hated it! She didn't look like the same person AT ALL. In fact, the next picture is her in her baby shower dress, and it took awhile for us to get cool with it. Now we're coming around. She does seem a little better regulated as far as temperature, because blankets are often opening up and falling off during the passing of a baby back and forth among family members.

The baby is pretty fussy. She is a good baby, and our love for her is not diminished by this, but she is definitely a fusser. Her worst fits are followed by gaseous explosions from one end or the other, so we know there is reason for some of it. But other times she seems to fuss just to fuss. We give her gripe water and make sure all of her needs are met. We experiment with freely-available coping mechanisms like walking, talking, singing, and rocking. We are using a gifted rocking seat that looks like a car seat, with good initial results (the baby falls asleep) but mixed long-term results (she wakes up pretty soon). But what we're uber excited about is even now on its way in the mail: namely, an old school, mechanical wind-up swing. We searched high and low for this joker, and today we won it on ebay for 99 cents. Ahem, shipping was 17 dollars, but I absolutely couldn't care less. It's the click-click-click variety from when all of us were babies. We're stoked.

yawning during a chiropractic adjustment

We are trying quite hard to limit the baby paraphenalia that comes into the house, because gezzads! There is no end to the possibilities! Walk through the baby department at any store, and you'll agree. For example, there are about 14 different spongy pads available - one for keeping the baby asleep on her back, one for the tub, one for changing diapers, one for laying in the living room, one for every variety of crib and cradle. So anyway, we were planning on bathing the child in a mixing bowl or the kitchen sink, like our mothers did it. We had three traumatic bath/shower experiences, whereby there was much screaming, flailing, and pooing, and then Zoralee received a plastic baby bath at her baby shower. Skeptical we were, but we tried it, and would you believe she has reclined in it peacefully and contentedly for two baths now?! As Jason said, it's a little frustrating when modern gadgetry actually works.

This could be the result of sleep deprivation, but we have the heartiest laughing fits these days. Some of the hilarity is at Zoralee's expense, what with her random arm movements and facial expressions, but hopefully she's not grasping that. Occasionaly they'll even happen during her fits, just because she's being so unreasonable. But the most notable one came late one night while we were up browsing craigslist ads. I don't know if every location would have as riotous ads as in Montana, but check out the Free section sometime. People are giving away and advertising the darndest things, like a pair of pants that wouldn't work as pants anymore but could be cut up for fabric. Hang tight, lady, while we drive five hours to Helena to get those. Or this one guy who was begging people to come and make use of a miniature golf course that he'd made. Dang. Now that's funny AND sad. Jason's new motto is "Craigslist - we laughed, we cried."

Grandma Rena reading Zoralee's first post card from great Aunt Melody

Zoralee's first week

day one with Grandpa Larry

with great-Grandma Louise

with Uncle Luke and Aunt Heather

day two at Chinese food with the extended family;

great-Grandpa Gene introduces the LED light

at the SAD lamp to help with a touch of jaundice

day four walk to church with Papa and Mama

Zoralidell "The Ice Baby" Stoffer

(for the UFC fans out there)

think I'm coy, do you?

But behold, I am Super Zor!

don't judge;
even superheroes get discouraged and need Grandma time

resting today with Papa