katechaux

40/3

2010-07-16T10:57:00.002-06:00

Feverish boy + little sleep = tired mami without makeup

40/2

2010-07-15T09:27:00.003-06:00

The tiny boy had a fever and spent the night in our bed. I woke up this morning to him nestled into my neck. Heaven.

Long Road

2010-07-14T13:04:00.006-06:00

It seems like we're supposed to worry over turning 40, especially as women. At least in my life, it has long been held out as somehow the end of things, the point at which you are out of options and damn well better have a plan in place for the rest of your days. I've never really given it much thought, I've always been the youngest in my circle of friends and in my work groupings. I still get carded from time to time. I have kind of chipmunk cheeks and a crooked front tooth, both of which make me look a bit younger than I actually am.

It almost took my by surprise earlier this year when I realized I would turn 40 this fall. I certainly don't feel 40, though I've lived enough to accumulate 40 years worth of experiences. I've really had some amazing times.

The perspective that I've gained in recent months and years is a whole other animal than the way in which I lived during my first three decades. I started out as a child model, and while still in high school I was being groomed for magazine covers and runways. While most of that never came to be, even after I got out of that business I was still living in that mindset. Life in Los Angeles sort of lends itself to being self-absorbed, and I'm no better than most. Looking good, being perceived to be beautiful; these are powerful things for a young woman who lost her daddy far too early, who needed to be told she was loved over and over again.

The ironic thing is that the man I eventually fell hard for, the man I would later marry, is the least likely person in the world to talk about my looks. I can't even twist his arm to give me an opinion on a haircut. I'm sure he has his opinions, but for him it's not about those things. He loves me in his own way, deeply but quietly. In many ways, it has helped me to give up on some of that pretty girl baggage.

I've seen a number of photo essays around the web that have to do with daily photos, and I was struck by the urge to do a series - 40 daily photos as I move toward my 40th birthday. Not the styled, posed shots of my past, or even the jesus-I-got-lucky-with-that-shot photos that are usually the ones that I post or that make it into an album. Just a quick shot from my phone each day. I'm sort of excited to see where this goes.

Feliz Cumpleaños - June 2010

2010-06-29T11:34:00.006-06:00

Happy 3rd birthday, my love.

I've been meaning to pick up the blog again, and what a perfect opportunity. In addition to neglecting the blog, I've also fallen a bit behind in the monthly letters I've written to you in your journal. They're the stories of your days, the words you learned, the friends you made, and the funny expressions you come up with ("Because it's not dinner time!'). One of my great joys as your mother is sitting with that journal and thinking back, remembering all of your experiences, and writing down the ones that I think will someday tell you about your childhood.

We're in Florida right now, celebrating your birthday with Tata and G-Papi. You've been spending a lot of time with your cousin Gigi, she's very sweet with you and likes playing with your toys almost as much as you do. Last night, Allie and Jeremy arrived, and you've been over the moon to see Jeremy again. Tomorrow, Enrique, Luca and Nicole will fly in and stay for the rest of the week. All six of Tata and G-Papi's grandchildren will be together, for the first time since we all gathered in Boulder when you turned one year old.

As we're in Florida and it's June (almost July), it's unbearably hot. We've spent most days inside, playing and watching World Cup matches. Now that the other kids are here, we'll be in the pool for a while each day. You're so eager to swim on your own, so convinced that you can do it - if it were a matter of sheer will, you'd be swimming already. I think that within a few weeks you'll be moving through the water like a little fish.

As for me, I'm so fulfilled by being your mami, so much more so than I could have ever imagined. You are kind and loving, and you remind me to slow down and not rush through my days. Every day, you teach me patience and remind me to be so very grateful. Te quiero, mijo.

After Dinner

2009-08-06T17:30:00.002-06:00

Most evenings in the summer, if it's not too hot, we try to go for a walk after dinner. There's a perfect window when it's late enough to be cooling off for the evening, but before the mosquitoes come out in force.

Usually our walk takes us down the lane to visit the neighborhood horses, Paella and General. Valentino takes a couple of carrots along so he can feed the horses, who are so mellow and so spoiled with treats from the neighborhood kids, they gently pluck the carrots from my boy's hands. Now that he's older and bigger, Valentino likes to climb to the top of the gate so he can be eye level with them, and stretches his hands out to try to pet them.

We met the owner of the horses for the first time on our walk a couple of nights ago. He told us that Paella had been born on the lot in the small wooden shelter in 1985, and that she's been raised all of these years with kids coming and going throughout the day, passing her land and stopping to say hello. He was so pleased to be able to tell us the story of her life, and it made me think that it must also be (at least in part) the story of his.

Summer Fun

2009-07-20T15:53:00.005-06:00

For years, I've walked past the water spurts on the Pearl Street Mall, and seen the kids at play. Years ago, my reaction was indifferent - they're kids, lots of people have kids (but not me, hahaha!!), yawn, etc. When I got pregnant, I started to look at things like this through new eyes. I tried to imagine being one of those parents sitting around the perimeter of the fountains - would I be mellow and chatting to the person next to me, or would my eyes be glued to my mini-me? Would I be able to relax and just watch the pure joy of a child splashing in the water, or would I be forever nervous, worried about strangers or falling or catching a chill or soggy diapers or oh my god what if the other kids won't play with him?

I happy to report that I am totally capable of just sitting and enjoying the play time. I stripped him down and turned him loose, and I think I laughed nearly as much as he did. He ADORED playing in the fountains, and I swear I'll never again make him step over a puddle instead of splash in it.

And because I think my kid is insanely cute, I'm submitting this photo for Aimee Greeblemonkey's July photo contest.

Feliz Cumpleaños

2009-06-26T16:30:00.000-06:00

What a difference a year makes. Happy 2nd birthday, my love.

Check Up

2008-10-23T11:31:00.004-06:00

I'm growing! I measure a full inch taller than my last annual checkup, which was prior to being pregnant (so probably spring of '06). I am 72 ¾" tall in my bare feet, or just over 6' tall.

By the way, it just took me 5 minutes to figure out how to write "¾".

I Voted!

2008-10-20T11:00:00.000-06:00

Fall 2008

2008-10-19T14:00:00.002-06:00

We took Valentino to the Rocky Mountain Pumpkin Ranch yesterday. Halloween last year was spent up the mountain, and we didn't do any decorating or trick-or-treating (he was 4 months old!), and I think he's still too little to really enjoy the holiday - but I was excited to see his reaction to all the people, the music, and the animals at the ranch. We made a morning of it, with our friends Dean & Kim, their daughter Lily, and Dean's mother Gloria.

The first time we took him into the tent with the ponies, Valentino cried. We didn't push it, went to choose our pumpkins instead, and checked out the petting zoo (baby goats! ducklings! bunnies! a camel (!?!)). After a while, we circled back around and got in line for the ponies. When I walked into the tent with him, he was calm, and he pointed to the pony he wanted. He had the best time! I showed him how to lean forward and pat the pony on the neck and stroke his mane, and he thought that was the most wonderful thing - he laughed and smiled the entire ride.

Feel Your Boobies

2008-10-19T08:29:00.004-06:00

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and I want you to feel yourself up.

Everyone agrees that early detection is the key to successful treatment, and that means that you must take responsibility for doing regular self-exams. I have been fortunate to have clean exams so far, but I did have a scare last month when I found a lump in my right breast. I got in to see my doctor as quickly as possible, but she believes that it was a remnant milk duct (I stopped nursing my son in May). My doctor advised that we check again in a few months, but she was confident that this was a "normal" lump.

Two of my friends were not so lucky. My very dear friend, "C", was diagnosed almost exactly one year ago. She has had a mastectomy, chemotherapy, and is now in the process of reconstructive surgery of her breast. She is hopeful for her future and has every reason to hope that the cancer won't return. Because they caught it early, and treated it aggressively.

My friend "M" also had a mastectomy, but further treatments were not indicated in her case. She has elected not to have reconstructive surgery right now, she wants to live with her breast as it is, almost as a daily reminder to be ever watchful. M was only 37 years old when diagnosed.

I wish I had more insight to impart, but the truth is that I'm woefully ignorant on the topic of breast cancer. It is not a disease that has affected my family to a large extent. That's why I think that campaigns like the one in the image above are even more important - so that no one ever ends up suffering because they didn't have access to help and information. Go read up, and then cop a feel.

Growing

2008-09-14T20:42:00.004-06:00

He is suddenly so much more a boy than a baby. Walking. Talking. Eating on his own. While I miss the baby sometimes, the boy is so incredible. The best part is a besito para Mami, and he now turns toward me and lifts up his face for a kiss.

7 Years Later

2008-09-11T15:31:00.001-06:00

I read a Tweet this morning that said it would be interesting to see people write about where they where, what they were doing, that morning 7 years ago. I agree, here's my story.

In the summer of 2001, I had recently moved to Boulder from Los Angeles, to the promise of a good job and a good life. Unfortunately, that job ended 6 weeks after I started, when the start-up for which I was working folded. I looked and looked for work after that, but in a new town, with no friends or contacts, I couldn't find anything. I was spending my days at home and making my boyfriend (now my husband) crazy. We ended up deciding that we needed a break, and I should go back to LA and work there. So I packed up my things, threw my cat in the car, and drove back to LA. I stayed with one of my closest friends, a lovely woman who had been my downstairs neighbor for years. She and I cooked together, drank wine, smoked cigs, watched movies, and arranged and then re-arranged her furniture over and over again.

It was in her guest room that I was sleeping on the morning of September 11, 2001. She came in to wake me, said "you have to come watch the news." We sat together on her narrow couch, not believing what we were seeing on the television. We had no idea what else was going on in New York (or elsewhere, for that matter), and we were terribly worried for her children, both in their 30s and living and working in NYC. We took turns trying to reach them and calling other members of our families, telling them to turn on CNN and tell us that we were imagining the news.

My ex-boyfriend worked for Cantor-Fitzgerald and died that morning. His body was never recovered, but he had phoned his wife and told her goodbye, when he knew he was not going to be able to get out. I didn't learn about his death until months later, I hadn't spoken to him in a couple of years. He was typical of many of the stories I've read about people who died that day: a husband and father to two little boys, a dutiful son to his loving parents, a brother and a friend and so much more. His death made that tragic day so much more awful for me, so much more personal.

Part of me feels that I should have felt it more deeply regardless of him, if for no other reason than all the other good souls who left that day. I have since learned of others that I knew who were killed - a boy from high school, a person I worked with on a project years ago, the parent of a friend. I tried to think of all of them today, and when my baby woke me this morning while it was still dark out, I laid in my bed for just a minute longer, and said a prayer.

So Excited I Can Hardly Stand It

2008-08-23T13:13:00.003-06:00

I feel so hopeful.

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www.new.facebook.com/barackobama
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Baby You Can Drive My Car

2008-08-13T13:35:00.002-06:00

Or, in this case, the neighbor's car. Pardon the blur, I'm not yet a master of iPhonetography.

I (Primary) Voted!

2008-08-12T17:00:00.000-06:00

"Pineapple Express"

2008-08-11T21:30:00.000-06:00

I had a rare "girls night" last night, just a couple of hours away from the house. My friend and I decided we could squeeze in a movie, and in the 3 minutes it took to drive from my house to the theater at 29th Street, we'd pulled up movie listings on the cool movies.app app on her iPhone, and settled on "Pineapple Express". I confess it wasn't the first choice for either of us, but the timing was right, allowing us an hour to grab food and alcohol - I knew that I needed a couple of drinks to settle in for what I assumed would be a dumbed-down comedy aimed at people much younger and much higher than me.

Wow, was I wrong. I laughed until I was crying, even had to get up during the movie to go pee because I was afraid my laughing was about to get out of control (that's what I get for 2 beers prior to the movie and the "small" 32oz soda the theater sells).

Seth Rogan was his usually likeable but slightly repellent average Joe character, but for me, James Franco made this film. As the drug dealer Saul, he's not your run-of-the-mill slacker. For someone who spends a good portion of his awake time getting high, his apartment is clean and thoughtfully decorated, he lovingly tends to his plants and takes pride in his music - so much so that he changes to the more predicable rap when a customer stops by, to keep up the "dealer" appearances. He's an aspiring civil engineer and cites the designer of Madison Square Garden as one of his heros, and he's only dealing drugs to keep his beloved grandmother in a nice nursing home.

Also a standout was the character of Red, the unstoppable drug dealer who supplied Saul with the Pineapple Express weed that is the cause of all their troubles. Red is a strange mix of characters, mourning the loss of his beloved cat three months later and swaying through his home in his silk kimono, anxiously awaiting the release of his wife from prison, and stubbornly refusing to be killed despite numerous beatings and bullet holes.

I'm not going to spend any time on plot, there are a number of reviews out there. I really just wanted to convey how happy this movie made me, how great it felt to laugh like that, and how thoroughly transported I was into this adventure.

Baby in Motion

2008-07-29T11:15:00.001-06:00

Gotta be fast to keep up with the boy these days. Dining out at Noodles after swim class. Note the adorable giraffe playsuit - a little treasure I found at Steve & Barry's. Sadly, he has just about grown out of this and all the similar summer attire that he has. Eight weeks of summer to go, and it's getting hotter every day. Guess it's time for some shopping....

Stuff I Love - Sigg

2008-07-25T12:17:00.005-06:00

Shortly after my son was born, I started seeing stories everywhere about the effects of plastics leaching BPA - everything from baby bottles to my beloved Nalgene was now suspect. From what I've read (which isn't everything and so I'm sure that there are other schools of thought on this), we're probably pretty safe on the baby bottle front, because I hand-wash them (instead of using the dishwasher) and I don't ever heat them, and it's the heating of the plastic that causes the BPA to be released. On the other hand, I run the Nalgene through the dishwasher on a regular basis, because I use it ALL THE TIME. Honestly, the amount of water I consume is just mind-boggling.

While I attempt to wean myself off of Nalgene, I now have a Sigg bottle as well. I love the sleek design and the small, friendly loop of the cap. I love my dragon design, too. I especially love how COLD my water gets when I fill the Sigg and stick it in the fridge for a while. I even bought one for my son, a tiny little blue Sigg with a puppy on it (awwww!).

Will I ever truly part from my Nalgene? Maybe not. Especially not my purple one with the Apple and Obama stickers on it. But that Sigg is pretty sweet, too.

Where Did I Put That Thing?

2008-07-23T09:36:00.002-06:00

"Mom Memory" - the ability to remember the location in the house of every toy, but not how to spell my own name.

Happy Birthday, R.I.P.

2008-07-20T11:15:00.000-06:00

Today is my father's birthday. He would have been 61. He has been dead for 16 years.

I don't think of my dad often anymore, except that every once in a while I watch my husband with our son and think that my dad should be here to see them. I wish he could know my son, know that I found such happiness and was able to bring such an amazing kid into the world. I wish he knew the woman I would grow into, years after he left me.

Bear Necessities

2008-07-18T09:00:00.001-06:00

My son is now one year old. He's a happy boy, laughs easily and often, and he's so easygoing that it's rare to see him upset. Throughout that first year, he's had the usual assortment of toys to enjoy, but he never really formed an attachment to any one thing. No blankie or diaper rag, no soft toy, nothing except his beloved chupo (pacifier). About a week ago, the nanny arrived with her daughter to spend the day with my boy, and the daughter brought along her teddy bear (osito). My son was mesmerized. He grabbed that bear at the first opportunity and sobbed when the nanny tried to take it from him at the end of the day. She graciously left it with him for the weekend and endured her daughter crying for two straight days at the loss of her bear.

I knew that it was time for him to have his own "thing", and since he had chosen a bear as the object of his affection, I searched high and low for several days before settling on a soft Steiff bear, the plainest, simplest bear I could find. It doesn't play music, or talk, or vibrate - it's just a bear. My son's "osito". He has not been without it since I handed it to him.

I am amazed at the way he loves that bear. The physical hugging and snuggling, which he has never done before, come so naturally to him. Even in his sleep, he rolls over, reaches out to search for the fallen chupo, and reestablishes his firm embrace on osito.

I am alternately touched and worried about his love for osito. Touched because he has that capacity to so easily identify and demonstrate his love, and worried because inevitably we will forget osito somewhere, someday. I just hope it's a day far, far out in our future.