What me?

I wouldn't suck your blood...just, come here, just a little closer...

closer

.....closer

Baby Vampire

I've decided I should make a movie about a baby vampire. Clearly, a baby vampire would be the most successful of vampires. And it would be creeeeepy. Partially because it is a vampire, but mostly because it is a BABY vampire. Baby Vampire would be much more intelligent than a normal baby, because it's lived for hundreds of years. And it could have some pretty awesome familiars. the familiar could just put the baby (not really a baby!) at someone's doorstep and have it start crying. Innocent victim opens their door, "oh, poor little baby, let me pick you up and give you hugs and kisses." Evil baby vampire snuggles up to poor, innocent victim's neck and BAM! WTF Baby Vampire?!?

Horrible, horrible stuff. Baby vampires should not be trifled with.

Apologies...

For those of you in the St. Louis Greater Metro Area, I apologize for the screaming baby that drove past your house. We have no air conditioning, and I think she may be teething. Plus it's a full moon, and she's part werewolf. Betsy didn't mean it. I promise!

Pencil sharpening

I find sharpening pencils very cathartic. There's something about a nice sharp point that gets to me. Several times a day I find myself absently twirling a pencil into my sharpener. Which is funny, because I don't even write with pencils all that often.

Other activities that bring me sweet satisfaction:
Steel Magnolias
snapping asparagus
diving into a pool
dicing an onion
blowing into an empty bottle
blowing bubbles through a straw
talking to a long lost friend
The Big Chill
giggling
driving for hours
belting out power ballads, the cheesier the better (i.e. The Glory of Love)
cutting my finger nails
paying the bills

Mom started losing her hair yesterday. We knew this was coming. And, I think for her it's a bit of a catharsis. Let's get this over with--give her her battle scars already.

Gil

Mom started her first round of chemotherapy last Wednesday. My grandmother and I sat with her the first day and we had a rather fun time, other than the whole watching your mother get injected with toxins part of it. I bought her this stuffed Clown fish to take along. She named him Gil and Gil has had all kinds of adventures in the treatment room. Sitting that day through chemo with my mom reminded me that no matter where she is, she is always playing, trying to find ways to make her immediate situation a game. I am also learning how important humor is when staring down cancer. Laughter is what will get our family through this.

But since last Wednesday, we've been playing a bit of a waiting game. Waiting for the horrible symptoms we've heard so much about to pop up. So far, so good. She's been a little tired, and took a few meds for nausea, but that seems to be it. The wait was like a ticking time bomb...I'd text her every morning "How are you feeling?"

She's been very tolerant of my constant prodding, but right now she just wants a break from thinking about being sick. I'm trying to be with her on that.

Oh yes, and that is a syringe hanging from her chest--hoping we can get them to do that again for Halloween.

Cinco de Mayo

Happy Cinco de Mayo, ya'll!

Wondering if people in Mexico use their Independence Day as an excuse to stumble around drunk in the streets, lighting little highly explosive tubes and shooting them at one another like we do here in the US. I hope so.

Turns out grumbles is the ring leader of a bottle smuggling operation she's been running out of the daycare. As the smallest and youngest member of the community, she'd been flying under the radar since she got there. Other than that, she's right on target. We learned we should count her fingers and toes while changing her, and that she likes bubbles. Guess what our main activity this weekend will be...

Confession

Tonight Jeff and I will be attending The Grumbler's first Parent/Teacher conference. I expect to hear all about her mischievous behavior. I tried to get her to 'fess up this morning so we wouldn't be caught off guard, but she wasn't talking

Mommy Dearest

Clearly not feeling effects from her first round of chemotherapy, my mom got a pedicure today with my Grandma. Grandma suggested she get Amber and Betsy painted on her toes, an homage to her granddaughters. My mom, still not showing signs of chemo brain, declined.

Dinner Last Night...

Last night I made Braised Country Ribs with Cabbage and Red Potatoes from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything. I liked it, Jeff wasn't so keen on it. He doesn't love cabbage nearly as much as his German roots would indicate.

For breakfast, Jeff made a Savory Dutch Baby, and we ate out on the back porch. Got to watch some of the neighborhood boys on a secret mission...was so sad when the mission was aborted.

Tonight I think we're having pork chops, quinoa with roasted corn, and a vegetable not yet obtained...

Here it is

Here it is. My first blog post. Not sure what to write, but the blank blog just sitting there was starting to get awfully intimidating. There are lots of things I'd like to write about, so many that it is hard to get started. Like starting a paper in college. Always write the middle before you write the intro. That doesn't seem to be quite so possible here. So...yeah.

I started this blog for a few reasons:

1. I just had my first child. Seems like there might be something there I'd like to remember. Things I won't remember unless written somewhere.
2. I cook a lot. And eat a lot. I'd like to remember what I've cooked, so it's easier to plan meals.
3. My mom was just diagnosed with stage 4 uterine cancer. Things are happening quickly. I'd like to document this.
   

Much more on all of this later.

For now, I'll explain the origin of the name of this blog, The Grumbler Rules. My lovely little daughter, Betsy, is 12 weeks old. Before Betsy came, we got lots and lots of stuff to prepare us for her arrival. One such item is a co-sleeper. Basically, it's a bassinet that is the same height as a bed. Betsy did not spend one night in the co-sleeper. Not one. Partially this was because she didn't like it, but the other reason (the real reason) is that this kid grumbles. Loudly. All night. No one can sleep in the same room as Betsy. She was quickly christened "The Grumbler." Her grandfather once noted "The Grumbler Rules." And that, my friends, is true. Betsy rules. On several levels.