Western Olemets for Breakfast

I'm trying to eat a little better these days, which lately has meant cutting back on carb-heavy meals in favor of lean proteins and veggies.

This morning, I made western omelets for Max and I. Of course, we shared with Maggie, who kept asking for more 'olemets'. Cracked me up. Just wanted that down for posterity.

And I'll happily forget that the 20 minutes prior to that, she did nothing but say 'no' and cry.

That Nap

This is the post that every mom who blogs writes at some point. When her child begins to let go of their nap. When the toddler finds the strength to say, I think I can go all day without a break, thanks. And the mom screams, NOOOOOOOO! And then a car explodes behind her.

Moodle had a very successful ear tube surgery, and a week later we are seeing better language skills (she can suddenly say HIPPOPOTAMUS perfectly. and loudly). And we've gone a week without an ear infection, which is also a good sign. She's still adjusting to loud places and sudden noises. For a few days, she would cry whenever Max Powers would sneeze.

But in the week since the surgery, she has only napped 2 and a half times. Some days that's fine, other days she's cranky mess by the end of the day. On Sunday, she fell asleep crying in my arms 2 hours before her bedtime.

She's doing better napping at school than she did at home. But I don't know why the change. Did the change in volume in her world distract her so much she can't sleep? Is everything more interesting now that she can hear? Or did her ears just bother her so much that she was exhausted from the discomfort, and now they don't hurt?

All of those possibilities are positive, and I'm still glad we did the surgery. But man, I am going to miss that nap. That was MY nap, too, missy! Cue car explosion.

Syrup Ears

Moodle's surgery was yesterday, and it seemed like it went about the same as most ear tube surgeries do. The doctor met with us after the surgery but before she woke up. He said that they found that the fluid in her ears had thickened to the point where it looked like syrup or glue.

It broke my heart. It's her parents' jobs to make sure she gets what she needs. We were hesitant on ear surgery, because we heard so many stories of unnecessary surgery. Max Powers made the comparison that it was the braces of pediatric surgery, because they can be such a money maker. But in hindsight, we know that she needed it. The surgery seemed tailor-made for her problem.

I'm excited to see what happens to her language development. She wasn't behind, but she had the standard toddler-mangling of words happening. Maybe now she'll speak more clearly.

She's back at school today. At drop-off, the kids were being loud and rambunctious, and she seemed scared by all the noise. I know she'll adjust, but it was hard to leave her.

Daniel Tosh's Live Show is Awesome

Max Powers and I saw Daniel Tosh perform live last night. It was everything I had hoped for when I dropped $150 on two tickets.

The best part and the worst part of the show are actually related. While there were minor annoyances, like the Murat Theatre's horrible seat numbering scheme which caused confusion during the show (yes DURING), mostly we had a lovely time. We even got to see him being sincere and gracious for a few minutes, which acted like a palate cleanser for the next round of filth.

But behind us was a very loud laugh whore. I'm not saying she has sex for money. I'm saying that she would laugh and hoot at every single word he said.

"Hi, I'm Daniel Tosh."
       "AHHH HA HA HAHA !"
"These are my dogs"
       "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

This is not an exaggeration. This is how is set started for us. And this was the worst part of the show.

I mean, wait for it, lady! He's a funny guy. You can wait until he actually cracks a joke to start laughing. He's a professional, it won't take long! And once you start laughing, I don't need to know how funny you think he is. I, too, am laughing. Appreciating comedy does not require you to project!

And he did bring his adorable dogs on stage, just for a moment at the beginning of the show. They were very cute.

He was funny enough that we could mostly ignore her. But, after about 30 minutes of this hooting and cackling, he told a joke that had me laughing so hard I was almost peeing. He had just finished saying a string of horrible yet hilarious things, and the audience was into it. He chose that moment to address all the ladies who made a habit of hooting their approval, and informed them that within 2 seats of each of them, there was someone who was about ready to strangle them. And on in his normal fashion.

He ended the joke by pointing out that most of the women there would continue to hoot (to which they hooted), but that hopefully one woman would come to the realization of how annoying it was, and apologize to those around her. And the man sitting next to *that* woman would be his FAN FOR LIFE.

I wish I could tell you that the hooting, cackling laugh whore was that woman. She wasn't. But still, it was so cathartic to have her called out on stage like that. Money well spent.

Matchbox 20

On the way to work today, after I had dropped off Moodle and could turn off the nursery rhyme CD that plays on endless loop when I need to distract her, I heard a song I haven't heard in at least a decade.

There are lots of songs I haven't heard in at least a decade, but this song gave me a little tingly feeling. It was "Push" by Matchbox 20. It's a good song, but not really special in its own right. But that song came out the summer before I went to college. The first summer I spent in Pennsylvania, just after we moved. The summer before the biggest adventure of my life, college. The summer I spent a lot of time in my beat up Reliant, learning my way around in between shifts at the Lone Star. The summer I listened to a lot of radio.

I remember feeling a sense of anticipation that stuck with me the entire summer. I remember feeling a little lonely, because all my friends were in a different state. But it didn't bother me too much. After all, I reasoned, I would have left those friends behind to go to college anyway. Mostly, I just felt an electricity that had nothing to do with the tired old town we had moved to. An eagerness to go to school, prepared, focused, and as awesome as I could be.

And when I heard that song this morning, I got to feel that electricity again, this time flavored by what actually happened in college, which made it sweeter. And now I miss all the great friends I made in college, especially the ones I made while that song was still on the radio.

Crossing Our Fingers For All Our Butts

Max Powers has been having tummy issues since yesterday. Today, I have taken one more trip to the bathroom than I am comfortable with. And we all know what's happening with Moodle's nether-regions. 

But we have guests coming this weekend! And fun plans for those guests! And none of those plans involve staying tethered to a bathroom or flaming red diaper rash. In fact, even our backup plans are dependent on not having raw bottoms. These folks are not exactly family, but they are about as close as you can get without DNA, and we're really excited they are coming.

So, Mommy is stepping up the bland food diet for everyone, and trying to catch up on all the stuff I had to do this week to prepare, since Moodle was home for a day and a half nursing her bum bum.

Fingers crossed we do more than have our friends watch us take turns pooping.

Taxes

Taxes are DONE!

*high fives self*

Just have to make a trip to the post office. Backasswards Indiana won't let me e-file a partial year return. Whatever. I can wait a few weeks for to the $49 you owe me.

The Wizard of ENT

Moodle was diagnosed with yet another double ear infection yesterday. If my memory serves me, this is the third this year, and the 12th in her lifetime. If you count by ear rather than instance of infection, I think we are up to 19. This bought us to the long-dreaded point of no return on the path to the ear, nose, and throat doctor, and almost certainly to tubes.

We know it will help. She's miserable with these things, and does a great job making us miserable too. And everyone we know that has gotten them said it did great things for their kid.

But we were hoping to squeak by one more time into summer without needing them. She didn't get any ear infections last summer (the last one was in May, and they started up in October), so I don't know if having surgery in April is the right thing. And I'm not thrilled to put my kid under the knife. And I'm certainly not looking forward to calling my insurance to see if this is covered.

In the end, we always do what's best for Moodle. And we'll fend off the flying monkeys along the way. Today the flying monkey is diarrhea, as we begin another round of antibiotics. At least she likes yogurt.

I Love Google, But...

I love Google. I love Google products. I use at least five Google products every day, often more. If Google were to go away, I would suddenly have to go buy calendars and photo albums and a diary and an encyclopedia set and pens and paper and stamps and envelopes and tons of maps. I would drown in a sea of paper.

But I'm starting to think that maybe Google doesn't get me. Or at least I am not their target audience.

But today, as I was checking my email, I noticed a new button in my black bar. Play: New! it screamed. I clicked it, and it's just a store with some video games and books. Maybe it will be cool, I don't know. But the button for it is right there in the middle of the black bar. In the place where I wish the Reader button was. Or the Photos button. Or the Blogger button. You know, buttons that actually do something for me.

I understand Google wants to be cool, or hip, or whatever the kids are saying these days. But I wish it would embrace what it does so well, and stick to organizing my life and thoughts and information stream.

Though there was a rental link to "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" on that Play page....hmm.

Belated Introductions

Yo, world.

I started this blog a few weeks ago, and I decided to just dive right in to what was happening around me. After all, the main point was to have a journal of recollections of what was going on. The blog forces me to explain it in a way that it is accessible to people who aren't with us while it is happening, so that a million years from now, it will still be accessible to me.

A few people have stopped by to read, and that's cool. If you can relate to my stories, please feel free to leave a comment and talk about it. If you don't feel like chatting, that's fine too. Lurkers are welcome.

Most of my stories have been about my young daughter, Moodle. Obviously, that is not her real name. Nor is my name Happy, nor is my husband's name Max Powers. Since she's our only child and still so young, this is all fresh and new to us, and all these little adventures seem big. You'll learn a lot about her, I'm sure. She'll be two in May.

But I'd like you to know a little about me, too. Hopefully, as Moodle gets bigger and more independent, my world will grow back to its pre-baby size, while my butt does the opposite. So, in honor of my 33rd birthday, I figured I'd spend a few hundred words talking about lovable, furry old me.

I'm a working mom. I'm a physicist for a national lab, and I like what I do. I better like what I do, because I spent an unreasonable amount of time in school for it. I work remotely, which is hard sometimes. I'm separated from all the people who are also excited about what I do, and that can sap my motivation. I work part time, and spend the balance of my workdays wishing we had a maid/cook/personal assistant, just like everyone else in the world who has to clean and cook and run errands. My daughter is in a preschool-style day care full time. I will wax poetic about how much I love day care another day.

We moved to Indiana less than a year ago. I'm not a midwesterner, nor am I a country girl, so this transition was a little hard for me. It was the right choice for my family, so I'm happy about it. But, since I'm not from here, and I don't technically work with anyone, it has felt a little isolated. I'm working on being a big girl and making friends. Maybe this blog will help.

I'm an atheist and a humanist. This can be a little scary in rural Indiana. I've often considered putting an "A" or a Darwin fish on my car, but decided against it because I'm too busy to deal with vandalism. But I do volunteer and give blood, and advocate for science education and the advancement of science and math education for girls. I give to charity, and do what I can to make the world a better, nicer place (that's the humanist part). This is not intended to be a blog about freethought parenting, but it might sneak in here and there. Especially since I live in Indiana, a state that seems intent on violating the Establishment clause whenever it can.

I knit and crochet really poorly, play the guitar even worse, and need to exercise more. My husband and I are learning ASL, because we started with baby signs, and just kept going. We're getting better with vocabulary, but are almost to the point where we will need some formal instruction to become fluent. I used to be an above-average swing dancer, but now I really have to be in bed by 10:45 or so to function the next day, and that doesn't fit with the swing crowd's schedule. I'm probably still good.

Overall, I'm pretty cool. I can't tell a joke, but I have a wicked sense of humor. I like beer and wine, but find I can only have a few drinks in a week before my body doth protest. If you find yourself hanging out with me for any period of time, you will witness me say something that causes an awkward silence to descend over a room. Most people put up with stuff like that because, like I said, I'm pretty cool.

I'm Happy. Nice to meet you.