Thursday, November 17, 2005

Time Keeps on Slippin'

The holiday season is upon us now. It's times like these, when family gathers and old stories are retold (and retold, and retold), that leads one to ask, "Who ARE these people and how did I come to be a part of them?!" After my millionth search for adoption papers, I have finally come to terms that this band of crazies are really my family (though I did find a program for a circus in the late 60's.........nah). And now, I've added to the mayhem by bringing in a new member. I'm not sure any of us will survive the holidays unless Mistress Arrena says so.

It's hard to believe that she's almost 4 months old, now. So much has changed. I'm back at work (well, I call it work) part-time, so the girl is in .....dum dum dum, ....daycare! Poor Arrena, you say? No, poor daycare provider, I say. :-) Luckily, provider does the job willingly and lovingly. Arrena goes for around 3 hours in the afternoon, so I can make an appearance at my office. Of course, the moment I arrive in my office, all I hear is, "where's the baby?!" In fact, many people at my job have stopped talking to me, saving it all up for when SHE comes back in. I have become the invisible mommy. Which leads me to say, "oh well, I didn't like dem heifers at my job, no how!" (just kidding, work heifers) My boss, a gem of a man (but don't tell him I said so) has nicely given me permission to keep working from home - all day if I want. But I decided that it is healthier, despite the introduction to numerous new germs from other kids, that we have a little time apart. Me, to have conversations where another person actually answers, and Arrena to have others around her other than the center of her universe (uh, me). Still, the time where I'm leaving my office, and headed to pick her back up, is my most anticipated time of the day. I do miss her.

She's changed so much. No longer content to just lay around, she's now desperate to sit up straight, and loves to talk (I blame Robert - haha). In fact, she'll talk for an hour in her sleeper with no one there to join in. I suppose this could be a sign of scizophrenia, but I'm assured that THAT mental illness doesn't run in the family. She's come a long way from being that girl <-- to becoming THIS girl-->. Yes, she does enjoy that bouncy chair!

Everyday is an adventure with this one. We're having a ball and enjoying the ride. I think she'll be a welcome addition to our merry band of mentals.

Now, does anyone know where we can get a turkey outfit for her?! I'm happy, but I'm still malicious. hee hee

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Chili peppers are scary, right?

We’ve been captives in Camp Arrena for almost 3 months now, and subjected to the most vicious forms of torture. Sleep deprivation. Ear-piercing shrieks. Projectile vomit and, um, other substances.

But it’s Halloween - time for payback! The time for revenge-minded parents to dress their babies up in silly costumes and parade them around for all to see. We get to prop them up in front of the camera and bombard them with flashes and cheek pinching, laughing and cheering while the child squirms and writhes in confusion and near-agony.

Which prompts me to ask... how is this different from any other day?

Well, Arrena has proven to be immune to our torture techniques. She took everything we gave her with barely a whimper. No crying, no squirming. She even managed a couple of decent smiles. Not when the camera went off, of course. But we saw them.

There was no trick-or-treating for Arrena. She and Mommy had returned from a weekend of travel earlier in the day, and Mommy was sufficiently exhausted. Besides, where do you take a 3-month-old for trick-or-treating? There were probably a couple parties we could have found, but it didn’t matter. There could only have been two reasons for going out last night. One was for candy, and we bought enough for ourselves. Suuuure, it was for the other kids. Our doorbell rang only once. (Hi Ella and Zoe!)

The other reason would be to show her off. And that’s what this blog is for. All the bragging rights, with no diaper bag to pack.