Commiserating with friends who just had a baby a couple weeks ago, I realize how much of Isaac’s early days are a total blur. It’s probably for the best – he’s way more fun now.

Which is a good thing, because despite not wanting to be one of those people who basically only talks about their kid, I basically just talk about my kid. Or so it would appear to the internet (in person I am – I think – fairly capable of carrying on conversation on a broader range of topics). I mean, how could I not? He’s adorable!

And being okay with appearing to just talk about my kid is one of a few things that I’ve found have changed since becoming a mom. It’s part of the larger “caring a whole lot less what other people think of me” shift. I used to care. I used to care deeply, too much, really.

Over the last few years I have grown up some and cared less, and then last March I spent 8 hours being completely primal in front of a crowd of strangers, most of whom also got all up in my hoo-hah, and all dignity went out the window. Giving birth is dignity rock-bottom, my friends.

I do still manage to shower and put on pants (not mom-jeans, never mom-jeans. I may not have dignity, but I do have a modicum of pride) before leaving the house, but mostly because I enjoy the sanity of the routine. It is for me, not for you.

Time also feels like it is racing by, and taking up one fleeting year being obsessed with the minutiae of spending my days with this crazy baby feels like the right thing to do.

There is a limit, though. I am not talking about poop. You’re welcome.

The other big change is that my cynicism has all but vanished. You try being mopey and world-weary when you spend all your time with someone who is infectiously happy and curious and having his tiny mind absolutely blown in the best possible way by the simplest things. Peas! Rolling over! Things that go scrunch! Another human smiling!

The world, indeed the whole universe, is a beautiful, astonishing, wondrous place. It’s easy to forget that, until you end up seeing it again through the eyes of someone who’s seeing it for the first time.

And speaking of himself, as far as baby-updates go, he is exactly as he should be. He’s got roly-poly thighs and deliciously chubby cheeks. He’s in the 50th percentile for height and the 15th for weight, so he looks less like a little Michelin Man and more like Elmer Fudd.

He’s a super busy guy and can’t seem to bear to be still. Even at his most calm, when he’s nursing, he still needs to kick his feet or wave his hands or flex his fingers or something. He doesn’t yet crawl or sit (sitting requiring being still, and not diving for one’s own very exciting toes), but he rolls and squirms everywhere. Watching him try to get places is like watching a hilariously bad driver try to park, using a 1000-point turn.

He likes to get into things he shouldn’t, and his eyes are already full of mischief.

He drools and chomps with such fury that I have to believe teeth are imminent. Bittersweet, because it is awesome and amazing to watch him grow and power through these milestones (I am still mostly flabbergasted that I made a whole person!) but a bit sad because it’s yet another reminder that he won’t be a tiny baby forever (and I am still terrified of cryptic, whiney, running, mysterious toddlers).

But, if the other parents are to be believed, it does keep getting better. So we’ll continue to soldier on, one mind-blowing discovery at a time.

Hey Ma, I like apples!

The year started with our awesome trip to Thailand, a few frantic months when we thought we were going to move to England, trips to las Vegas & New Orleans and the excitement of a tidy little cash windfall when the company Neil works for was sold.

And then in July we found out I was knocked up, and everything changed far faster than we thought it would. Neil threw me an epic 30th birthday pig roast – during which I was sick as a dog from the onset of pregnancy nausea – and I remained sick as a dog until well into October. Despite the tail end of the suck, we still managed to head to Chicago, Vegas again and rip it up at my oldest little brother’s wedding.

Fall flew by as we caught up on all the life we’d been missing while I was feeling sub-human. We had our lamb slaughtered and started cooking again. Then suddenly the holidays were upon us, and now after a whirlwind Island adventure to spend time with friends, family and just ourselves, we find ourselves at home with 2011 upon us.

And oh what a year it will be!

The biggest event this year for us will definitely be the arrival of our first kid. Before the first quarter’s done, we’ll have a bouncing baby boy of our very own. We’ve been telling ourselves we’ll “worry about getting baby stuff set up after the holidays” so we now have that task ahead of us. It still doesn’t seem real, even when I’m being headbutted in the crotch from the inside out.

Other than that, there are a few resolutions I’d like to achieve in 2011:

Figure out / Survive the first 9 months of parenting. It’s not really a proper resolution, but I do want to remember (as always) to focus on the present, and really get comfortable in my new role as a mom. I already worry a lot about losing all the other parts of me, I don’t want to forget to also embrace the new part as well.

Take more photos. Now that I have the iPhone4 (because the 3G just felt useless from a camera perspective) I’ve been snapping a few more photos when out and about. And I remember the days when I used to take a lot more photos. It feels like it’s time to pull out the proper camera again, and start taking more photos on purpose. I’m aiming for a photo a day. I have no idea when they’ll all make it onto Flickr, but so far in the new year I’m 2 for 2 on photo days, and I’ll post them as I get the time and inclination.

Increase our net worth by 10%. This one is obviously a joint resolution for Neil and I. We’ve really enjoyed the past few years of financial goals, and now that we’ve got our various accounts all sorted out, we needed a little something to aim for to keep us on track. Staying on plan with our regular mortgage payments, various savings contributions and a modest return on our investments should see us easily hit the 10% mark at the end of 2011 over our net worth at the end of 2010.

Run 5K (again) by the end of the year. I had completed the Couch to 5K running program at the end of 2009, and then with winter and heading off on vacation in 2010, lost my running mojo. I’d planned to run the Sun Run 10k in April and that didn’t happen. I was just getting back into the swing of things with a new personal trainer and re-finding time for running when I ended up knocked on my ass for a number of months. Of course I’m more at the waddling stage than running for now, but having the goal to get back up to 5k by the end of 2011 will (hopefully) keep me on track to stay fit now, remain active after popping out a sprog, and start running again once I feel up to it in the late Spring or over the Summer.

I think, with such a big year ahead, four resolutions is plenty, thankyouverymuch. Normally I’m ready to run into the new year at a million miles an hour. This year seems a bit different. Lately I’m (uncharacteristically) much more content to just be. We’ll see how long that lasts, but the ride, and 2011, has been pretty good so far, so I’m inclined to just go with it.

But I got sick of seeing the Fiber Bar entry, so here is a boring, uninteresting update.

Read on if you dare…

Because I have no kids, and don’t know too many people who do, I was completely oblivious to the fact that March 15, 2008 is the first weekend of Spring Break. So plans to have a wedding at a destination resort that day were firmly thwarted. The weekend following that is Easter. Of the remaining March Saturdays we’ve decided on the 29th. So a year from today we’ll be gettin’ hitched. Kookookachoo.

I’ve enlisted the services of a professional resumé writer, and used the past week as time to get my portfolio together and get a bunch of other long-overdue errands done. I still don’t like being at home all day, but I am getting used to it.

We’re hosting the 2nd annual Cinco de Mayo fiasco. Hopefully with slightly less hostess-experienced fiascos this year. That said, if you were invited last year, check your email inboxes (or the spam folders – it was sent through evite). If you somehow didn’t get an invite this year, this is the one occasion I open my house for all and sundry to partake in the debauchery and tequila. Comment or drop me a line if you’d like to join us.

Today I’m also playing Florence Nightengale. There’s some sort of flu-like thing going around and Neil has it. We also had his youngest sister over last night, and she sounds pretty sick too. So far I’m calling it the Watkiss Death Rattle, and popping ColdFX like there’s no tomorrow in an effort to ward it off. Then again, Gill has it too, so perhaps it’s some kind of Nerd Flu.

See. Told you life was boring ’round these parts. Anything exciting up with any of you?

Update (5:26pm): I am feeling snotty, and a wee bit achey. This does not bode well.

So it was with only a little apprehension that I went over to Neil’s friends Ben & Julie’s place for dinner last night.

Thankfully Ben and Julie are extraordinarily lovely people, because they are also parents to a not-quite-two-year-old.

Also helping matters was the fact that Louis is one of the most charming not-quite-two-year-olds I’ve ever encountered.

Although when the clock struck bedtime for dear Louis, I was tested as I’ve never been tested before.

Kiddo was pushing a big box around the table, as the over 3-feet tall crowd sat and digested. Suddenly, Neil decided he’d see what happened when he took the box away.

Disaster struck.

Thanks Neil.

Poor wee Louis erupted into a fountain of tears and reached for the closest adult.

Me.

What could I do?

I picked up the child (oh god – I touched one!) and he buried his face in my shoulder.

I thought, miracle of miracles, that would be enough.

But not unlike dogs, small kids can also smell fear.

Louis pulled back, and instead of his mom, there was some strange woman’s face looking back at him.

Realizing his terrible mistake, Louis “kicked it up a notch,” contorted his face a la Jim Carey in The Mask, and let out a wail that would shatter crystal and send every dog in a 6 block radius running.

I sat paralysed for what felt like forever (read: 4 seconds) until Julie stepped in and whisked him off to bed.

Between that, and dressing the dog as Snow White, it’s a wonder that the Ministry of Children hasn’t pre-emptively sterilized me yet.

Oh yes I did!

This is what happens when I’ve already mentally checked out of a job, and people aren’t updating their blogs fast enough.

Neil, will you ever forgive me?

But here’s a tip, special from me to you:

When you get him something called a Reciprocating Saw, it doesn’t matter that you don’t know what it does or why he wants one.

Just don’t tell your dad to “Enjoy his big tool,” otherwise your mom will shoot wine out her nose.

No wonder I have such high expectations!

I figure if I can’t find someone to grow old with, who I’m this happy with, whom I love this much after 55 years together, well I’d just rather live with cats.

Happy Anniversary Oma & Opa!

Nobody’s seemed to echo my sentiments on the holiday of late however – so I figure I’ll weigh in on the debate.

I. Love. Christmas. I always have, and likely always will. My family has a low enough dysfunction level, and enough common sense that it’s never been one of those huge be-all-end-all occasions with debt and pressure and not much fun. It’s only grown better as my cousins, brothers and I have grown up. Nobody spends exhorbitant amounts of money on anyone else. Gifts are either thoughtful or useful. No kitsch, no filler.

It’s even better now that there are no little kids around to impress or build grand illusions for. The presents live under the tree until Christmas morning, when we leisurely get up, have coffee (usually with liquor of some sort) and laugh while watching the dog go bezerk with his stocking and the wrapping paper. We drink a lot, eat a lot, and generally spend the day relaxing. The only exceptions to this are when we sober up long enough to go to Christmas mass, and about 15 minutes of hurrying as all the Christmas dinner dishes are finishing up cooking and need plating at the same time.

This will also be the first Christmas since I was bout 13 (can we say codependent?) that I’ve been single. It’s a HUGE weight off of my shoulders. Not only does it leave me with a nice extra chunk of cash in the Christmas budget, but it also means no juggling of families that, frankly, are not as cool as mine.

I understand everyone has different experiences that shape their personal feelings about the winter holiday season, but I wish the same for all of you: No matter what you choose to do with the holiday (whether it’s a whirlwind of everything or ignoring it and doing nothing), may it be rewarding and relaxing, and exactly what you want it to be.

My Oma & Opa – that’s Grandma & Grandpa for those who don’t know – (both nearly 80) just leapt into the 21st Century and purchased a DVD Player. The only reason they did this is so that they can view movies that their relatives are sending them from overseas (yes, they got a worldwide player).

I’m thinking for Christmas I’ll get them a DVD or two. But I need ideas. Here’s where all y’all come in. Which DVDs do we think they would they like? A bit of background: They’re Dutch (Immigrated in the 50′s). Their doctor has advised against talking about the war, since they both lived through it and it riles them up more than their heart problems are comfortable with. They stare blankly when presented with anything containing a pop-culture reference. They watch The Young and the Restless and America’s Funniest Home Videos religiously. They also enjoy watching those Andre Rieu concerts on PBS.

They rarely watch movies, and when they do the experience goes something like this:
Opa: What did they just say?
Oma: *repeats dialogue*
Opa: What?
Oma: *repeats dialogue again*
Opa: Oh, Ok.
Oma: Now what’s going on? (since she missed what was happening as she was reciting the movie)
Opa: *explains what just happened*
Oma: Oh, Ok.
Opa: What did they just say?

Repeat for the length of the movie. I think the last one they watched and enjoyed was “Grumpy Old Men.”

So.. bring it on… any DVD suggestions?

But these are the things one puts herself through when her dear mother turns half a century old.

In addition to this, I tried to play the clever, witty hostess and engage in some casual banter with the guests, the majority of whom have known me as either a tiny baby, or a delinquent teenager, or both.

One gentleman in particular, made fast-friends with my parents’ dog. The dog is normally a skittish beast, and fearful of men in general as he was abused as a puppy. But for some reason, he immediately sidled up to Len and hardly left his ankle area for most of the evening.

Thinking I was being clever (and recalling the scene in As Good As It Gets where Jack Nicholson wins over Verdell the dog with a pocketful of pork product), I said to Len “You must smell like bacon on something!” About three seconds after the sentence leaves my lips, it dawns on me…

Len is a cop.

I should’ve just stayed in the kitchen.