Goin' to (Great) Grandma's ... Take Two

The Targo, Nathan, my Mother-in-law, and I will be going to visit The Targo's grandma this weekend. We were supposed to go shortly before Labor Day weekend, but it didn't work out. Grandma is 92 and in an Alzheimer's wing of a nursing home. She's also about six hours away.

Preparing for this trip is making me all sappy and stuff. I grew up with my Great-grandma Jones (I've mentioned her a couple times - my mom's granny). My mom's mom died when my mom was just thirteen, and my dad's mom died when I was five. My mom's dad wasn't around. My dad's dad and my great-grandpa Jones died a week apart the summer I turned ten. So, Grandma Jones was everything.

During my childhood, we would go to Grandma Jones' house every weekend. It was so much fun because all of us "stair-step" cousins were so close. When Grandma Jones died in 2001, the inevitable happened: The grandkids stopped getting together, so obviously did the great-grandkids (and there were a couple great-greats by then).

Every now and again I think about my grandma and all of the fun things we did together: I was the youngest member of her Senior Citizens' group, we spent nearly every New Year's Eve together until I went to college, all of the lively religious and political discussions. She was a woman ahead of her time.

When I think of our age, I think about the age of our parents. And, gosh ... it makes me sad. I think about how lucky I am that my mom was a young mom. I got to keep my great-grandma around for a long time. My parents are 65 and (almost) 56. The Targo's parents are 64 and (almost) 67.

I guess I've gone from introspective to completely morose! My point is that I want Nathan to have as much quality time with his grandparents as possible. That includes this trip. While he won't remember going to see his G.G. in Wisconsin, they're memories that she and her daughter and her grandson will hold. And as we saw before, his presence will bring comfort and a little joy.

Slow Motion

Whew! Life needs to slow down, just a bit. I've been ridiculously swamped this month. Between work, dog-sitting, daycare hunting, appointment-setting, visiting family, and just life in general --- wahhhhhh ... it's been hectic. I guess that's summer, though. And I'm sure it's going to get even more hectic as he grows.

All that aside, I finally attached pictures to Nathan's Five Month "letter..." I was so tired, I didn't have too much to say. But it really has been an eventful month. Eventful if you consider the goofy baby sleeping 6-8 hours a day eventful. He spends as much time as possible fighting sleep. It's a sport. We're practicing for the 2016 Olympics.

I think Nathan is officially crawling, even if it is backwards. He likes to hang out on his tummy and complain loudly. Then he'll see a toy, just out of reach, and go for it ... only to go backward. Poor thing. I keep cheering him on and he looks at me as if I should do the crawling for him, by God.

I've missed reading your blogs and I hope you're all well. My mom is visiting us this week and I'm hoping to catch up with you guys.

Infrequent Posting Does Not Make You Desirable

Omigosh. We're still here. We're dog/house-sitting for my in-laws, which is nice. Strangely, not only do they have more than one bathroom (which is totally my fantasy), but they also live in more than 750 square feet. How do people live like this? All the furniture!

No really... we're doing well. The dogs officially hate me, or hate my baby. But the cats, they're in love with the windows and all of the critters that inhabit the suburbs. (At our house, they have one squirrel - but plenty of alley cruising trash pickers - to watch.) The only bad thing is that Nathan, who is not a sleeper on his best day, is not really sleeping here. I don't know if it's the new bed, the quietness, or what, but his best night consisted of seven hours sleep.

So, we're tired and can't wait to go back home.

Sunday Night Main Event

We had dinner at my in-laws last night ... as we do most Sunday nights. But, it was our first time out there since the baby was born. They've been gracious enough to come to us these past few weeks.

It was nice seeing the cats, who are thoroughly enjoying their vacation home. The Targo and I were curious too to see how the dogs would react to the baby.

Honey, the fluffy terrier, wanted to sit on my lap and loved to lick Nathan's head. Neither of these reactions surprised me. Honey was exceptionally bitter when she could no longer fit on my lap while I was pregnant.

Brutus ... oh, Brutus ...

In this corner, weighing in at 135 lbs, Brutus the Bullmastiff.


And wearing the footie pajamas, weighing a robust 8 lbs. 0 ounces, Nathan the Baby.


Really, I'm not sure why a gigantor dog would be afraid of this little guy, but as soon as Brutus saw Nathan, he backed away. The Targo followed the traumatized dog around for a minute, thinking it would just take him a second to warm up to the baby. Instead, Brutus found a corner in which to hide his head. WTH?

We shouldn't be shocked by Brutus' wussiness: He is Alpha to no one. In fact, he's terrified of Mystic --- all 8 lbs of her de-clawed self.

Still Here...

Sorry it's taking me so long to get back into the swing of things. Monday was mine and Nathan's first day alone. It was fine, however, impossible to get anything done. Today, I showered at 4:30.

The doctor appt. on Monday went well. Nathan is back up to his birth weight and finally has a bit of an appetite. I'm still supplementing with formula - which is called "liquid magic" in this house - but hope to exclusively breastfeed in a couple of weeks.

I'm so not complaining. I feel really fortunate to have these weeks home with my little guy. And The Targo ... well, he's been just amazing. Last night, I somehow slept through the baby crying. The Targo was up at least four times and still managed to get to work this morning. He rocks.

Many of you have asked about the kitties. Well, they were extremely clingy when we got home from the hospital. Magic tried to sit on my lap while I was nursing the baby. He also wanted to sleep with Nathan. Mystic sniffed him a lot and glared at him anytime he was on her changing table. So, they're out at their vacation home in the suburbs, protecting my in-laws from mice and dust bunnies. Those cats have a rough life, I tell you.

High and Mighty

The Targo and I drive a Civic. It's little, fuel-efficient, and makes finding parking in Chicago pretty easy. We had to get some maintenance done on the car the other day, so his parents - feeling sorry for me and my extra 27 26 lbs! - let us borrow their car, a CRV. It's still a Honda, still fuel-efficient, but it's got a few more squirrels working under the hood.

Anyways, we switched our cars back last night.

The Targo's Mom: "Did you like driving my car? Isn't it nice sitting up so high?"

Me: "Oh yeah! It was so awesome, sitting above everyone, feeling superior." Picture me cackling, drunk with power.

I'm not sure she gets my sense of humor.

It was a real struggle to be back on the ground with the rest of the peons today.

*Edit* Your comments are making me laugh. Incidentally, CRVs aren't that huge or gas-guzzlers. But also, driving in Chicago, I will take about any advantage I can get. :)

Cultural Wasteland

First of all, I'm so glad to hear there are others with the freakishly long torso. Mine? Totally my dad's fault. I feel kind of guilty for possibly passing my three inch long legs and forty inch arms onto someone else. But The Targo? He's pretty proportional, so it may all work out.

We received a call from my father-in-law a few weeks ago.

FIL: "[The Targo], what are you guys doing on 12/16?"

The Targo: "Um, I have no clue. Why?"

FIL: "I just bought you tickets to The Nutcracker. It's a big family thing. We'll pick you up and drive together."

The Targo: "Um, no that's okay. Just save your money. If you want to get us something, you can buy us a stroller."

FIL: "We're going out to dinner afterward. [Cousin #1] and [Cousin #2] are driving in with their kids."

The Targo: "No really. That's okay."

The Targo tried to sweetly let his dad down for a few minutes. I was honestly surprised he didn't say "WHY THE HELL WOULD I GO TO THE BALLET? I'M JUST AN AVERAGE DUDE! I LIKE SPORTS AND DRINKING BEER!!!" The Targo's dad asked to talk to me.

FIL: "Marianne, I can't believe he doesn't want to take you to the ballet!"

Me: "Oh. Hmm... You know... I do wish you guys would just save your money. You don't need to spend anything on us." Hemming. Hawing. "Truthfully, I'm just not that into ballet. I love theater and musicals, but ballet isn't my thing."

FIL: "Really? Well, we'll see you that Sunday."

I hung up. The Targo and I looked at each other for a minute and then began talking at the same time.

Me: "I can't say no to your dad!"

The Targo: "Do you think we could just forget?"

Me: "No. But if there's a bar, we could just repeatedly sneak out to watch football."

I don't know why we don't want to go. I think part of it is that we're both homebodies right now. But also, the big family affair? These are all of the same people we'll see at Christmas. So, eh... maybe I will just hang out at the bar.

Go JETS! Squash the Pats!

From the Mouths of Babes

My mother-in-law told me this story today.

My in-laws went to the theater with some friends of theirs. The man had previously been married and has adult children. He was the woman's first husband and they married later in life. Before joining my in-laws that night, the man and the woman visited his niece and nephew and their small children.

Young girl: Uncle, do you have children?

Man: Yes, I do. But they're all grown up.

Young girl: Aunt, do you have children?

Woman: No, I don't.

The little girl pondered this for a moment.

Young girl: Are you neutered?

Little kids just rock. HAHAHAHAHA.

Family Milestones

Peanut will be my in-laws' first grandchild. I know The Targo's parents are getting excited because his mom sent me this:

WHAT IS A GRANDPARENT?
(Taken from papers written by a class of 8-year-olds)

Grandparents are a lady and a man who have no little children of her own.They like other people's.

A grandfather is a man & a grandmother is a lady!

Grandparents don't have to do anything except be there when we come to see them.

They are so old they shouldn't play hard or run.

It is good if they drive us to the shops and give us money.

When they take us for walks, they slow down past things like pretty leaves and caterpillars.

They show us and talk to us about the color of the flowers and also why we shouldn't step on "cracks."

They don't say, "Hurry up."

Usually grandmothers are fat but not too fat to tie your shoes.

They wear glasses and funny underwear.

They can take their teeth and gums out.

Grandparents don't have to be smart.

They have to answer questions like "why isn't God married?" and "How come dogs chase cats?".

When they read to us, they don't skip.

They don't mind if we ask for the same story over again.

Everybody should try to have a grandmother, especially if you don't have television because they are the only grown ups who like to spend time with us.

They know we should have snack-time before bedtime and they say prayers with
us every time and kiss us even when we've acted bad.

A six year old was asked where his grandma lived. "Oh," he said, "She lives at the airport and when we want her, we just go get her. Then when we're done having her visit, we take her back to the airport."

Grandpa is the smartest man on earth! He teaches me good things but I don't get to see him enough to get as smart as him!

It's funny when they bend over, you hear gas leaks and they blame their dog.

My Money is on MY Nose

SQUEAK!! Our 3D ultrasound is scheduled: Thursday. I'll be nearly 26 weeks. I'm so ridiculously excited! (With exclamation points and parentheses.) I must admit that part of me is completely weirded out (it's that "all things pregnancy and childbirth related freak me the hell out" thing returning). Another part of me is wondering what this baby will look like and is so thrilled to get a sneak peak.


I've been reading "mommyblogs" for the past two years and don't seem to tire of the stories about babies and toddlers and children. I can't believe that I will soon join the ranks. But also, my closest friends (except for three!) have children now. What a fun thing to experience together!


I want to thank you, Interweb Amigas, for being supportive and excited for The Targo and me. Please know that I'm a big gooey sap, and that it means a great deal to me.


Oh and, hopefully we'll have pictures to post this week. *gush*

I'm So Blonde and How Was Your Weekend?

Despite the faux platinum currently residing on my head, I'm a natural blonde. It's just a much more natural-looking natural. Heh. But that has nothing to do with anything. What I want to tell you is that yes, I have blonde moments. I like to think I'm one of those blondes that blonde jokes DON'T apply to, but then I'll drop a brick on my head. What can you do?

So, then...Today, I went to physical therapy and was all panicky because I was running late. And that damn bus just would.not.come. I finally got there, at 8:47 for my 8:45 appointment. I was all flustered and sweaty and hot and icky and... it was the wrong day. Yeah. My appointment is tomorrow. #*%@#%@

------

Soooo, how was your weekend? Ours was nice. No, I didn't get to see Pirates of the Caribbean. The Targo decided he didn't want to pay Chicago prices for that or Shrek the Third. Me? I don't pay for movies. That's his job. I buy pizza.

We went to The Targo's parents' house for the obligatory Memorial Day cookout. Rock on! The Targo's dad cooked some sort of ribs for everyone but me. For me, he sweetly made boneless barbecued chicken breasts. I's spoilt!

It was a nice time. Too, I got to hang out with this guy:


Even if you're not a dog person, you've got to love this face. C'mon. That mug says "I'm so dopey, you gotta love me."

And also - there's Honey, the in-law's other dog, a soft-coated Wheaten terrier. She's a teddy bear. I want to eat her feet!


Aren't these dogs cute? Admit it: You totally wish you were hanging with me over Memorial Day. Don't ya?

So Ugly They're Cute

There's something cute about pitiful animals. A good example of this is the Ugliest Dog (click at your own risk) in the World competition. (After going to that link, I'm not sure that's a good example. *shudder*) Now really... Would they have the ugliest person in the world contest? I think not. In fact, the organizers would probably get sued.

But pitiful animals? That's a whole other story. (Note: I didn't do the Midwestern "a whole 'nother" because I think that's almost as bad as saying 'addicting.' Again Blogger - that's NOT a word!)

Take the Targo's parents' dog. This is Brutus:


Let me tell you about all of the issues Brutus has. He's got a genetic disorder that causes his eyelashes to point in. He's had both of his back knees rebuilt. And, look a little bit closer.


Yes, that dog is incredibly cross-eyed. He's so homely it's unbelievably cute.

Then there's Mystic. My baby. The Diva. She's so pretty and fastidious. She's got some issues too. When we got her, she had a broken hip. The "vets" at anti-cruelty had to shave off the ball part of the joint, so her little hip bone just sits in the socket. She runs and plays like a normal crazy cat, but she bows that leg out when she walks. She also suffers from feline acne. I ignore that. But look closer.

That is one cock-eyed cat! When she stares at you, you can totally tell. But, when she's spacing out, her eyes each have their own agendas. Do you think it makes her cuter? I do. Sort of. One thing's for sure, it makes her way harder to photograph!

By the way...

They were my shoes. I don't think they're cute. Maybe that's why they were in the back of The Targo's closet?

A Politically Incorrect Phone Call

One summer, I moved four times. No kidding. In three months. Four times. It was one of the worst - and most expensive - summers of my life. My second-to-last stop was a few weeks at the Targo's parents' house. (Backtrack - the first few years of grad school, the Targo lived at home. With his parents. HAH. In my mind, he still hasn't lived it down. I mean, really, can there be too many jokes about living in your mom's basement?) The future-in-laws were kind enough to take my homeless self into their large home while I was waiting for my sinful student loan check. The one I used to move into my studio apartment in a really sketchy neighborhood. Inevitably, I left a couple of things there. I didn't think much about it because even then, I knew I was going to marry the kid. And now, the Targo and I take a load of crap out there every weekend. So, eh... whatever.

Anyhoo, my mother-in-law called last night.

MIL: I don't know how to ask you this, but is it possible you left a pair of shoes in the very back of [the Targo's] closet? They're size 9 black pumps. They're cute and I'd take them if they weren't way too big.

Me (scouring my brain for any reason I'd have black pumps, cuz eww, they're not sneakers): Um, sure. I guess so.

MIL: I didn't want to ask you in case, you know, they belonged to someone else.

Me (scouring my brain for who else they could belong to, being that the Targo and I are working on seven years, here.): No, they're probably mine from that summer.

MIL: I just hoped they weren't his last girlfriend's. That would be awkward.

Um... not as awkward as you saying that.