Lulapalooza

Redneck Girl

Parenting is a Gas.

With an old, flatulent black lab and a nine month old baby who likes to imitate sounds, there's no shortage of fun in this household. Nighttime has become particularly entertaining as Lula has apparently forgotten how to sleep. I put full blame on Baby Einstein and this demon.  That's right, Baby Einstein. My baby's brain is so busy contemplating black holes and time travel she can hardly shut her eyes. She lays in her crib, screaming most of the night, "For the love of God, don't make me spend what's left of the quantum era in this baby jail!" Actually, this little insomnia crisis has given Chris and me our first opportunity at putting our own theories to the test. You have in mind the kind of parent you think you want to be, but what are your true convictions at 3:00am? 4:00am? 4:15am?  Do you pick her up and soothe her hoping it doesn't become a habit? Or do you let her cry it out, hoping it doesn't destroy her willingness to communicate and ultimately trust you?  In the predawn hours we finally decided we'd let her be and it wasn't too long before she fell asleep, completely exhausted but finally able to shut out the clock's hand movements relative to her own movement (or lack of movement, thwarted by the bars of her cell). It's nearly 9:00am and she remains asleep. I think we'll lay off the saucer today and search out the dog. Good wholesome fun.

Just a Reminder

You'll find our travel journal at Lulapalooza.

Driving Miss Lula

Lesson #1: A graduate degree does not prepare you for installing a car seat. If you are currently in school and you are considering a future with children, please, drop out now. The innocuous looking car seat will lure you in with its sporty profile and its cute, fuzzy leopard cover.  But in the end you will be defeated by its complicated installation.  You will be crushed. 

Taking the Show on the Road

For those of you wishing to follow our adventures (and misadventures) in China, you can find us here.  We hope to post on a daily basis, but much will depend on our internet connection and, of course, Lula.  The thrill seekers among you can also view our itinerary.doc.

Metamorphosis

Yesterday was my last day of work.  Burdened by boxes containing my personal items, I bid my colleagues farewell and endured a final commute home.  Upon my arrival I opened the door and was immediately greeted by a pile of vomit nearly as large as its feline depositor.  As I lowered my familiar work items to the kitchen counter and reached for the paper towels, it would have been difficult for anyone to miss the symbolism (or the odor).  A chapter of my life draws to a close while another begins.  Trading the paycheck for the body fluids.  Last week I got my obligatory New Mom Haircut.  Some of you may know what I'm talking about.  The "I must simplify my life!" haircut that's quickly followed by the "I never needed a hairdryer and a curling iron before!" regret.  I had in mind something funky and maintenance-free and I shared this with my hairdresser, who, apparently having heard only "blah blah blah baby", promptly transformed me into Florence Henderson.  Actually, it's not that bad.  But it certainly would look better on someone who's more comfortable in elasticized waist bands and knee-highs than me.  Clearly I have some clothes shopping to do before our trip!