A Trip to the Dentist

It has been a long day, dear readers.

Today, we had to be up early because the baby had a dentist appointment. The pediatrician wanted her to see a dentist before her next checkup, so we contacted the local low-cost community dental clinic and got her appointment scheduled for today.

Gotta make sure my kid has strong teeth, just like my favorite baseball player from my late teen years, Carlos Quentin!

There weren't many people in the waiting room when we arrived, but because we were new patients, we had to arrive extra early to fill out the mountains of paperwork that come with that designation. I checked the baby in and was about halfway through filling out the paperwork when the baby was called in to be seen. I followed the hygienist to the suite while my hubby stayed behind to finish the paperwork.

Being a dentist's daughter, I'm no stranger to the dentist's office and chair. But, because my father was my dentist, I had very little exposure to what other dentists offices looked like. I was quite surprised how clean and orderly the dental suites were. My dad's office suddenly felt dingy and obsolete compared to this one. Then again, it's been years since I last saw my dad's office. I have no idea what he's done with it since. He's remodeled it once before.

We met the dentist, a kind Filipino who advised me to brush the baby's teeth twice a day instead of the once-daily night brushes I'd been doing and to limit her sugary juice and food intake, but otherwise her teeth looked good. The baby has never been into bottles and she wasn't real crazy about pacifiers, so that probably saved her mouth some serious damage in the long run. He gave the baby a quick brushing with some kiddie toothpaste and a quick fluoride treatment to strengthen her teeth. The dentist finished up the visit with some brushing instructions, a goodie bag with a toothbrush, toothpaste, some floss sticks, and a sticker for the baby, who put up a loud squall as he did his work. After he left, the hygienist was kind enough to set up the next appointment six months from now.

Time for a boo-boo treaty! Not this Crapple pie, but something better!

After checking out, I went back to the waiting room with the baby to collect my husband and leave. We then went grocery shopping where we bought the baby some fruit for her being a good patient today.

And that was how I spent my Friday.

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First Steps

Greetings, dear readers!

Today marks a momentous milestone: the baby took her first steps!

Not quite walking, but she could pivot on one leg (which is what she's doing in this picture)

I knew this day was coming. For the past two weeks, when she'd crawl, the baby would crawl with her butt high in the air and her feet flat on the ground instead of on her knees like she normally would do. Today, when my husband took the baby out in the morning so that she could have a zoot and burn off some energy, she took three steps on her own towards him on the patio. Of course, when I went to go and observe the event, she wouldn't repeat it. Later on, however, as the baby was playing on the bedroom floor, I saw her stand up and take three steps toward the bed on her own before she reverted back to her normal crawling mode.

Monkey crawling

What makes this day even more special is that she figured out walking more or less on her own. She refused to be put in a walker, and while my husband and I would walk with her around the house holding her hands or letting her cling to our legs, there's only so much you can do to teach a kid to walk. Our pediatrician also said that when it came to walking, that it was a mind-over-matter kind of thing; even though they have the muscular ability to do it, the babies prefer crawling over walking because it gets them from Point A to Point B faster. Either way, I'm proud of my daughter. She's developing right on her targets.

Soon enough, she'll learn how to run. And that's when the real fun will begin...

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Picture of the Day

Happy Thursday, dear readers!

On Saturday, my husband came home from Walmart with a small inflatable kiddie pool. Since the weather had become so beastly hot (like over 100 degrees Fahrenheit!), my husband decided that a small kiddie pool was a good investment for keeping the baby cool. He'd planned to buy a small plastic round pool, but since he didn't have the means of transporting it home (no room in the car and it wouldn't tie well on the roof), he decided that the inflatable one was better in terms of price and storage. On Tuesday, he blew up the pool on the patio and filled it with some water. He and the baby then went for a little swim, from which I got today's picture of the day.

Swimming with Daddy

I joined in shortly, but we didn't stay out long because a storm rumbled in and we had to go inside. But, it was nice to have a pool for a bit. Nothing like low-budget ways to have fun and stay cool in this desert.

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The Interview

Happy Sunday, dear readers. I got a pleasant surprise at the Carmelite church tonight because the African priest who's last Mass I'd attended had been so terrible (he was VERY long-winded and rambling) that I almost designated him as the first African priest I DIDN'T like, redeemed himself by being concise and orthodox with a stirring sermon about virtue. I was most pleased to see that his connection to the Holy Spirit was strong tonight. I usually have a very positive opinion of African priests (Indian ones too) because the ones I've met were well-catechized, orthodox and usually more intelligent than the average American priest I encountered. I suppose he was having a bad day that time and it just happened to be the first Mass I saw him in. Oh well. He's back in my good graces now and life can continue on as usual.

On Thursday, my husband had a job interview. He applied to work as a janitor at a local Presbyterian church, and the office called him in to be interviewed. Since there were errands to be run, I tagged along on this dreadfully hot day.

It may surprise some of you to learn that despite my die-hard Catholicism, this was not the first time I've been to a Presbyterian church. When I was growing up, my family joined an up-n-coming Serbian Orthodox church in the suburbs close to my home town. Before then, we'd been either going to the churches in the city of Chicago or the monastery in Lake County. Since the church parish was still so new, we didn't have a proper church of our own, so the managers were renting out the side chapel of a huge Presbyterian church in Deerfield, IL. I don't remember much about this place since I was a kid during the time we went there, but I remember the chapel being small, dark, and dusty with cobwebs on the windows. However, the building it was connected to was quite large. There was a hall behind the choir area which led to a kitchen and that was where the coffee hours were held. The basement was huge because that's where the Sunday school, Serbian language/culture, and dance classes were held and where the caretakers lived (they would regularly complain about the rambunctious kids banging on the door that led to their living quarters). I also remember my Serbian language teacher taking us on a tour of the building where we went past the double doors in the basement separating the part where the side chapel was to the main building, seeing the school classrooms there, and going into the actual main church itself. I don't remember exactly what the interior of the church looked like, but I remember there being alot of nice woodwork and it was dark. The second time I was in a Presbyterian church was when I was in 6th grade. It was for a comparative religions class which also included a trip to a local mosque and the huge Presbyterian church which was located in my hometown's downtown. Like my family's starter church, this local Presbyterian church had some nice dark woodwork inside and lovely stonework on the outside, though I remember looking at the tiny medicine cup-sized communion cups and kitschy-print missalettes in front of me in the pew and thinking this place looked more like the bank my parents did business with (at the time) than any church I was familiar with. There were crosses and banners proclaiming the glory of God, but not a single crucifix could be found anywhere.

Playing with her sunglasses

On this trip, I would not be checking out the church. I would be sitting in the office waiting area while my husband was interviewed. The secretary was kind and got the baby and I some water, but just like my previous trips to Presbyterian churches, the property was huge (this one was large enough to sustain a proper school). While the actual office itself was roomy and light with bright cabinets and clear windows, the waiting area was kinda dark. It had dark woodwork with kitschy stained glass depictions of biblical scenes and Christian themes lining the top of the room, but there was an entire wall which was designated as a sort of gift shop with trinkets, books, handmade quilted items, fair-trade coffees and mugs with the image of the church printed on them all for sale. The office waiting area itself was not very big, but it was large enough to walk around and the baby could crawl on the carpet without interruption. There was also a large china cabinet that held some mementos off to the side behind the chairs and on the coffee table in the middle of the room were two copies of some Billy Graham evangelical magazine keeping a "bible" company (I put bible in quotes because it wasn't exactly a Bible. It was selections from the Bible arranged to form some kind of storyline). I skimmed through the magazines and the "bible", but the baby kept me from delving into too much of this heresy by crawling around on the floor.

After the main office lady called my husband to the back for his interview, I walked around the waiting area and looked at the various things on display, both in the china cabinet and a nook across from the door. It was in the china cabinet that I first noticed a book with Cyrillic writing on the cover. Given my Slavic background, it piqued my interest and I took a closer look at it. On the shelf where the book was, I also noticed a pair of cloth dolls dressed in traditional Russian costumes half-hidden behind a folded sign explaining the items on display. I couldn't tell exactly what the dolls costumes looked like or where they were from in Russia, but I had the impression that the costumes were pre-Kievan Rus, based on the headdresses. On the shelf below was also a lacquered cup in traditional floral patterns. Below the Russian mementos was a display from Romania. There was either a place mat or a belt woven in a traditional pattern underneath a small Romanian flag and a plaque from the city of Timisoara.

The china cabinet. Not pictured: Russian cloth dolls in traditional costumes. Also, what is it with Presbyterians and dark wood?! It's too East Coast for this part of the country

The contents of both the Russian and Romanian shelves, the display signs read, were donated to the church by evangelical bible societies doing missionary work in their respective countries. I began feeling my blood pressure go up in anger as I read the sign on the Russian shelf which stated that the book which caught my attention was apparently a Russian bible and that it had been donated by a family evangelizing in Russia on behalf of the Wycliff Bible Society. These maggots have NO business poaching my people away from the REAL Church, just adding fodder to their CIA/Masonic front! I may have been suspicious of Protestantism in my previous life, but my conversion to Catholicism and subsequent marriage to my husband introduced in me a militant hatred of them, with bible-thumping evangelicals taking the lead in the hate list. Also, while reading Cyrillic is slow-work for me, the book did NOT say "Bibliya" or "Holy Bible" on the cover. It said "Hosh Habar", which Google translate says means "Aromatic Message" (Google also suggested that it was in the Kazakh dialect, which I thought might explain the costumes on the dolls, but an image search didn't match up any costumes from Kazakhstan that were remotely close to what I'd seen). Fortunately, I had the baby to look after and she provided a much-needed distraction to keep me from raging and destroying that cabinet.

Finally, after about thirty minutes or so, my husband came back. I refrained from saying anything about what I thought of the Presbyterians until we had left the church property, keeping the subject limited to his interview. My husband felt positive about the job interview, but gave it a 50-50 chance that he would be hired. He told me he was interviewed by three people, which I thought odd because if you're a qualified candidate for a job, you typically have only one interview with whoever is the person doing the hiring. Once we were out of the parking lot and away from any prying ears, I told my husband about the Russian mementos and how furious I was to see my people being led away from the Faith. I also complained how the decor in the office was in bad taste because it was dark wood with cheesy stained glass images, to which my husband surmised that because Presbyterians are outside of the Church, they can never know the true beauty of the Faith and can only resort to making copies of what they think it should be.

Well, it's been a few days since the interview and we haven't heard anything back from the Presbyterian church. My husband assumes it's a no-go and has proceeded to apply for other means of stable employment. The temp and inventory counting jobs are few and far between right now, so he's been trying to get more regular employment. So far, he's been canvassing for a political office, but that job ends the first week of July. Time to keep looking.

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Picture of the Day

Greetings, dear readers!

My daughter has learned a new skill: climbing! It began with her climbing up onto a small stool that my husband keeps near his desk in his work area which functions like a small table and holds random stuff like extra wires and gadgets. First, she would knock the stuff off the stool, then climb up onto the surface and proceed to either try and get at the stuff on my husband's desk or just chill on her new perch. Needless to say, baby-proofing my husband's work area became priority number one for an afternoon.

Well, just after she learned to climb the stool, the baby then proceeded to climb on top of one of the side tables here in the bedroom! The baby had cleverly figured out how to use the lower table as a stair to get to the higher table. So in celebration of my little mountaineer, here she is at the summit for today's picture of the day.

I'm coming for you, Mt. Everest...

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The Play Date

Good evening, dear readers.

It was blazing hot on this Dope Day Thursday. We made our way to the clinic to get my husband's medicine and see our friends there. Even though I've been accompanying my husband to his clinic since before we were married, our subsequent transition into parenthood has gained us a few friends there who are also parents in recovery. I've written before about being the wife of a recovering opiate addict and while it's not always easy because the stigma of addiction is still so powerful in our society, most of the addicts are ordinary good people who need all the support they can get to stay clean, just like anyone else who is battling a chronic illness.

Baby get together! My husband and daughter with Little Friend and her aunt

On our visits, we've befriended a mom, her sister who lives with and looks after her, and her now-4 month old daughter. We first met them when her daughter was just a mere six weeks old and despite having been born prematurely, my husband and I have shared the ladies' joy in watching the baby grow healthy and strong. Our daughter has taken a liking to the infant and is happy to see her little friend every time we meet in the clinic's waiting room. Though the babies don't exactly play much with each other cuz, well, they're babies and they haven't quite figured out how to interact with another strange little human; they smile and reach as well as make noises at each other. When Little Friend gets a little bigger, I'll see about setting up a proper play date for our daughters to play with each other. Now that she's getting older, I want my daughter to start learning how to socialize and deal with other people her age cuz this is a very important skill for becoming a functional member of society. It'll also be good for me cuz taking care of a baby 24/7 is a very exhausting job and I need the company of fellow moms as an occasional break from the demands of parenthood.

After our clinic visit, we went to Mass and then to the home of another dear family friend. Her computer was in dire need of some updates, and she hadn't seen the baby for a while. It was while we were going up her driveway that a rather frightening incident occurred. Since our friend lives on a hill, her primary driveway is very steep and regardless of whichever vehicle we're driving, I always get very nervous going up her driveway because I imagine the car either conking out due to the grade or flipping over when going down the driveway to leave. Well, my fear came somewhat true when I saw smoke pouring out of the vents in front of the windshield and seeping inside the car as it spluttered up the driveway, followed by the horrible smell of burning wires just before we made it to the top. When we got to the top, my husband parked the car and turned off the engine, opened the hood and threw the kill switch on the battery to stop the currents. Sure enough, the alternator's lead wire had shorted and melted. It wasn't as bad as it sounded or looked and my husband proceeded to re-wire the alternator, but not before sending me and the baby into our friend's house where it was cool.

In the weeks leading up to this incident, we'd been having some problems with the alternator in the car. Whenever my hubby would goose the gas, the car would splutter and he observed the voltage dropping significantly during the hiccup. Then, just a few weeks ago, my husband had to replace the alternator after the damn thing completely busted and the resulting massive short burned up no small number of wires under the hood. After the alternator and the damaged wires were replaced, the car behaved better but still spluttered whenever my husband stepped on the gas pedal quickly. Chalking it up to him being a lead-foot, I frequently reminded him to take it easy when pressing on the gas pedal. I was feeling apprehensive about going up the driveway, and my feeling was vindicated by the shorted wire. I made my husband swear that until the spluttering problem was fixed, we were not to go up that driveway when visiting our friend. Fortunately, she has a few others that lead to the property which aren't car killers.

My daughter and one of our friends granddaughters. She was in love with my daughter from the day she was born.

The actual visit itself was pleasant enough. Our friend had her grandchildren over and they were sitting with her on the couch, watching TV. The baby got to show off her standing skills and play with our friend's granddaughters. Her youngest girls are four and five, so while they're a bit older than the baby, they're still close enough in age to make for playmates. Her preteen granddaughter also played with the baby, which was nice since she absolutely loves babies and small children. As we played, my hubby fixed the car and then came inside to work on the computer. Once finished, she paid my husband and we left to go home.

Play dates are fun. I look forward to having more of them.

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Puppy the Kitten

Hello everyone!

I've decided to post some recent pix of our rescue kitten. The baby decided to name the kitten Puppy, because everytime she sees the kitten, she says "puppy"! While I normally wait a bit to see how the kitten's personality develops before bestowing a name on them, I conceded to the baby's choice of cat name because I'm all for unique and unusual pet names. With the exception of Dreamboy, who was named for his uncle, all of our cats have unique or unusual names.

Playmates

Anyway, some updates on the little girl. Her eye infection is gone, but she has a mad appetite for Vienna sausages instead of pate cat food or my husband's various fish pastes, which he shares with the big boys as treats. She is also very playful, always wanting to play boot-n-bite with us, especially at ungodly hours of the night, as well as always getting underfoot whenever we are walking around our home. As our scratched up hands and arms attest, she is a true kitten. She is also now potty trained, and has not had a single accident since the day after I brought her in.

Her eyes are pretty well cleared up. She's got almost all of the remaining tough guck off

Puppy and the baby have a special bond too. They both like playing with each other and Puppy doesn't get mean when the baby manhandles her, as babies are apt to do. Fortunately, with some vigorous instruction, the baby is getting better about handling Puppy more gently.

Playing with the drawer handle

Our remaining big boys are also tolerant of the new addition. Its not unexpected, since one of them is obviously Puppy's father (only an orange tom can father a calico). In fact, when they feel like it, they will sometimes play with Puppy. I've caught Pest rolling around with and batting Puppy in play, just like how he would do when he was a kitten. When they're done, the big boys then just up and leave. They generally aren't aggressive towards the kitten, but when they're annoyed with being around another juvenile, they'll make sounds telling her to back off.

Time for a cat nap!

Overall, Puppy has now become well-integrated into our home. Now that its no longer necessary to quarantine her in the bathroom anymore, she can zoot around our home to her little heart's content. We've had a few scares when we couldn't find her and thought she'd gotten out, only to find her sleeping under the side table in the bedroom where she can wiggle her tiny self into or under the server rack in the living room. She tries getting out when the door is open, but we stop her. She's not ready for the big, bad world yet. Eventually, we will let her out, just like our other cats are. We generally don't like our cats to be kept perpetually indoors because my hubby feels it makes them stir crazy. Each cat has their own territory, and being outside helps.

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The Checkup

Hello again, dear readers!

Today was a long and busy day. We had to be at the doctor's office at 8AM for the baby's one-year checkup and immunizations. Unlike the baby, who is brim full of energy starting as soon as the sun comes up, us biggers need at least a gallon of coffee to get close to functional this early.

All tuckered out

Fortunately, we didn't have to wait long. The doctor was absolutely blown away by how well the baby is growing and developing. She's right on par with a 15-18 month old. Her vocabulary impressed him the most, since she speaks now about nine words ("mama", "dada", "butt", "kitty", "puppy", "doggy", "broom-broom" (car), "num-num" (food), "titty") at an age when most kids speak one or two. He then ordered up her immunization shots as well as blood work to test for lead. Needless to say, the baby did NOT appreciate being poked and screamed accordingly. But, she stopped crying after a few minutes.

After this painful bit of medical necessity, we went to Walmart to get some cat food and juice. We also got the baby a cookie for being such a brave patient. Later on in the day, however, I noticed that she'd developed a runny nose and was congested. I wasn't sure if she'd picked up a cold from the doctor's office or if it was a side effect of the vaccines, but it's something I'm keeping an eye on. Lots of breastmilk and orange juice in the meantime.

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I Found a Kitten!

Greetings, dear readers!

A few days ago, I posted about some kittens my husband spotted in our yard this past weekend and our initial attempts at catching and taming them. This past evening, however, it was my turn to be the cat savior. Since my hubby would be working, I decided to spend the time catching up on some recent episodes of Ghost Adventures when I heard a loud mewing coming from outside! After not hearing mews for a few days, I naturally had to go outside to check it out, thinking it was one of the three kittens.

Much to my surprise, I saw this was a different kitten altogether! Unlike the others, this one was grey and white. Also, unlike the others, this kitten came running right up to me when I turned the corner of the trailer and saw something small, grey, and furry in the garden. Naturally, I scooped it right up and after a quick scope of the yard to make sure no other kittens were in need of rescuing, I took the new kitten inside. A few days ago, while cleaning the bedroom, I found a box and laid a blanket down in it just in case of a kitten rescue. I put the kitten in that box and placed it in the bathtub. I then ran and got an opened can of soft food and filled another can with water so that the kitten could have some food and drink.

Exploring the tub

Naturally, the baby was fascinated and intrigued by the new addition! She laughed and cooed at the kitten as it feasted, then explored the tub. I picked the tub because it was easiest place to confine a strange kitten until it could be properly introduced and integrated into the home pride. Also, this way, the new kitten could be given proper medical attention and cleaning so as not to introduce some pathogen into the home pride.

Kittens and babies (note: I have no idea why the image is rendering sideways. It was taken right-side up!)

I immediately noticed the kitten had some guck on its face, so I got some toilet paper and a bit of hydrogen peroxide to clean it off. When our big boy toms were kittens, they all came down with conjunctivitis, likely getting it from their mommy. When we could afford proper medical treatment, we would get a script from the vet for eyedrops and antibiotics. If that was not an option, we treated the kittens ourselves using tetracycline, a water/peroxide mixture to wipe the guck away, and triple antibiotic cream on the surface. It worked, and the kittens were fine within a week. As I cleaned this kitten's face, I examined it a bit more closely.

Poor baby needs its eyes medicined!

The kitten appears to be female. Her bottom was too ambiguous for me to make a definite call, but I noticed she had some pale orange patches on her legs. Grey, orange, and white meant this was most likely a calico. Calico cats are overwhelmingly female, owing to their XXY genetic makeup (there are calico toms, but they're rare and almost always sterile). Though her face wasn't totally clean, I did manage to get most of the guck off before she became too squirrly for me to handle. She couldn't have been more than 4 weeks old, as her eyes were still baby-blue. Like the other kittens, until proven otherwise, I'm inclined to believe that the Siamese minnie bore this one, though I don't know if it's possible for a Siamese cat to bear calicos. Given how she ran to me instead of fleeing and how comfortable she was with being handled by people, it's pretty clear she's been socialized for human contact. I also question her maternity because the Siamese minnie is still pretty feral and doesn't like being around people much; she taught her kittens that too.

Exploring the bathroom

Napping in my lap before returning to her bathroom quarantine

Once sufficiently cleaned, I closed off the bathroom door and let the kitten explore her new surroundings in safety. I also introduced the baby formally to the kitten. The baby was delighted with the kitten, but I had to be careful so that she wouldn't get too rough with the kitten. The baby can pet her, but she still overwhelmingly leans toward grabbing (whiskers, tails, fur, etc). Fortunately, kittens are much more forgiving about manhandling than adult toms are.

Today, the kitten explored more of her surroundings and got a proper bath. I did this with Pest and his siblings when they were kittens because they had no mommy cat to clean them. While her eyes are still gucky, they are looking a bit better.

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Birthday Baby

Greetings, dear readers!

Today was my daughter's first birthday! Though my husband had originally been scheduled to work on this day, a providential scheduling snafu led to him having the day off today. We could celebrate our daughter's birthday as a family!

One year ago. From this...

To this!

We started off the day by going to the clinic so that my husband could get his methadone. The staff was delighted to see us and some of our patient friends there wished the baby a happy first birthday. After a bit, we went to church so as to give thanks to God for our baby and express gratitude that she's made it to the one year mark, as well as hopes that there will be many more birthdays to come.

Playing with the bead and wire toy at the clinic

Owing to tight finances, we couldn't really DO any activities for her birthday (given how blazing hot today was, I thought about a day trip up in the mountains, but the car still needs some work done before that can happen). And with it being so blazing hot, none of us really felt like doing anything anyway. But, I was determined to get her a cake. I couldn't get the Rolling Stones t-shirt for her that I wanted, but a cake was non-negotiable. So after church, we went and got her a cake at the grocery store.

When I saw this cake, I knew it was the right one. It was white cake with buttercream filling

After a light lunch and relaxing for the afternoon, we had a delicious dinner of tacos (homemade seasoning makes a world of difference!) and finally, our delicious cake! Hubby and I sang "Happy Birthday" to the baby and he cut the cake, each of us getting a piece.

Hubby cuts the cake

Given that just about every baby I've ever seen with a slice of cake usually proceeds to mash it into pulp before body painting themselves with the cake, I thought for sure our baby would do that. It is a classic image, after all. Even though our baby is not known for neat eating habits (no matter how much I try to minimize the mess!), she wasn't as messy with her cake as I thought she would be. Cleanup did not require a power wash or second bath.

Being dainty

Trying to feed herself with the spoon!

Not quite covered in cake, but close enough. When she starts playing with food and reaching towards either me or hubby from her chair, it's her way of saying she's done eating and wants to play

Now that our daughter has reached the magical age of one, my husband and I will start trying to make her a sibling in earnest. After she was born, my husband and I agreed to wait until the baby was at least a year old before trying for another because I wanted sufficient time to recover from that pregnancy before undergoing another one. Also, by holding off another pregnancy, I feel like it gives the baby sufficient time to bond with me and know that I am her mother. While I would like a large family (my husband likes to say he wants 10 kids, but we agreed that three would be a good minimum), I don't want to have more children than I can care for at one time. I don't want to offload childcare duties (at least more than what is appropriate) onto my older children because that will not only confuse the hell of my youngest children, it will make my oldest children resentful towards me because I made them surrogate parents to their younger siblings before they were mature enough to handle the responsibilities of raising children.

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The Crib: The End

Hello again, dear readers!

After about a month of hard work, the crib is finally done! It's been sanded, painted, reinforced, mounted on caster wheels, and is finally ready to be put to use.

Head and foot boards assembled

Unfortunately, the stretcher bar at the bottom was missing a screw. No worries. My husband's hoarded hardware took care of that little problem

Ready to paint

In a significant deviation from the original plan, I assembled the crib first before painting it. This was my husband's bright idea because he wanted to see where reinforcements would be needed in the overall piece. Though this was primarily my project, I did let him do the planning and some of the reinforcements. Due to his engineer's brain and decades of carpentry experience, this was the only part of the assembly that I let him handle. But, for the purpose of gaining experience, I helped by measuring, cutting, and mounting an extra plank on the back bottom of the crib, borrowing my hubby's skill-saw and drills for the job. Despite gorilla-ing the bolts for security and sturdiness, the back bottom part of the crib felt a little too wobbly for my liking. Since it was going in the back of the crib where nobody would see it, I left the reinforcement unpainted. The other side felt fine, and I will be taking the front side of the crib down when the baby is big enough so she can have a toddler bed.

All painted! One coat was enough

The paint I used was a water-based latex paint. Everywhere I looked online and at Home Depot, for the purpose of painting a crib, latex paint was recommended. The first coat was pretty opaque and I debated on whether or not I should do a second coat. I still had some paint left over and the 150 grit sandpaper for this purpose, but after my husband looked it over, he told me it wasn't necessary. One coat was sufficient. He told me he thought it looked better now than it did in the online pictures or store models.

The reinforcement. This is on the back side of the crib, so nobody's gonna see it.

Before bringing the crib into the bedroom, there were three final tasks that needed completion: installing the caster wheels, attaching the springs, and one final cleaning. Though it took me a bit to figure out how to separate the caster's socket from the wheel, my hubby handled the drilling on the legs. I'd planned on doing it, but he insisted on doing the drilling because the bit was larger and he had better control of the drill.

Man at work

Wheels on!

The spring

The rest of the final assembly was tolerable, though annoying. After wiping down the springs with bleach and getting it ready to attach to the frame of the crib, I had two hiccups occur here. The first hiccup was because one of the holes for where the bolt was supposed to go and attach the spring to the frame had a messed up thread and no matter how careful I was, I just could not get the bolt to take. My husband solved that problem by drilling another hole right about at the same level and inserting a carriage bolt and nut into the arm of the spring, but not before cursing the manufacturer for making the bolt holes in such an inconvenient place. This was due to the second hiccup: having allen wrenches that were too long to fit in the narrow gap where the bolts attached the spring to the frame. If my hubby hadn't searched the tool drawers for the L-shaped allen wrenches and found one that fit, I honestly don't know how I would have finished the installation. Hubby or I would have had to drill extra holes for new screws, thus further delaying completion and being an overall pain in the ass to do.

The crib is complete. Now time to bring it in

I finally wiped down the whole crib before calling it done. Since the crib sat outside and was assembled outdoors, I wanted to be absolutely sure the crib was clean of any outside pathogens. I'm a huge stickler for cleanliness, especially since a baby will be sleeping in that crib. While she's never been a sickly child, I don't want to take that risk. She'll have plenty of opportunities to build up her immune system as she gets older and more active.

After my hubby helped me to put the crib in the bedroom, I was pleasantly surprised to find that a crib mattress we had been given by a family friend about a year ago fit perfectly in the crib! Though our church friends gave us a mattress to go with the crib, I planned to use the one our family friend gave because that mattress was already inside our home (we used to play with the baby on it), but I was concerned that it might be too large to fit in the frame. Imagine my delight when I saw how perfectly the mattress lay on the spring. However, thanks to my neurotic cat, Pest, I discovered that the bottom of the mattress was covered in cat pee (there's nothing physically wrong with him. He just feels the need to pee on everything because he's territorial. It's a never-ending job, cleaning up after him) after I took it out of the closet where I'd been storing it. Needless to say, after a cursing tirade directed at Pest while he roosted on top of the car, I took the mattress outside and bleached the hell out of it. Experience has taught me that there is no substance more pervasive than cat pee, but I was thankful that the mattress was made of plastic and was easily cleaned.

All done. A baby can sleep here now

After the mattress was cleaned, dried and eau-de-tomcat free, I finally dressed the crib. Mattress, waterproof barrier, cover sheet, and I was done. It sure looked pretty. I haven't decided if I'm going to add a pillow in there or not (I have a small, flat one that would give her some padding without sinking her head in). Guess that'll be something to bring up at our next pediatrician's appointment.

But the most important question remained unanswered: what did the baby think of her new bed?

At first, she was unsure about it and wanted me to pick her up

But then, after her bath and night feed, she went to sleep. I was especially thrilled to see that her diaper and blanket baskets still fit easily under the crib, thus saving us space. Her cradle was arranged in a similar way

Overall, I'm extremely pleased with the outcome of this project. I got to flex my DIY muscles and build something practical. This gives me a big confidence boost for future projects. That being said, if I was going to redo this project, I would first use the right tools for the job (sanding wheels save arms!) and paint the pieces separately before assembling. I'd planned on doing that, but my husband talked me into going a different route. I would also probably tape over the holes where all the hardware went, since I think my paint played a part in that one spring hole's thread being messed up.

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May Day

Happy Sunday, dear readers!

On this first of May, be thankful for the workers who are the real driving force behind the economy, not trickle-down-piss Reaganomics with its fetishization of the rich.

Workers of the world unite! Pic found here

But, in spite of my socialist leanings, hubby and I celebrated May Day by going to Sunday Mass at the church we were married in. After last week's trip to the Carmelite church ended with my husband coming to within an inch of knifing a rude parishioner who cut in front of us with his children in the Communion line, it was time to reevaluate where we went to Mass. As much as I love our Carmelite church, the fact is that people there do not behave reverently while in the presence of the Lord! They talk, they clap for the mariachi, they come and go whenever they please and have no respect for order. It's largely out of ignorance that they behave this way, and I have my disagreements with the homeboy padre who is the administrator there about how to go about correcting this huge problem. Our homeboy padre is a saint compared with alot of the other American priests I've met, but he's not terribly bright. I don't want to stop going there because I do feel that the Lord wants hubby and I to be there so that we can provide a good example to others on how one should behave in God's house, but it's so frustrating! It's easy to fall into despair when seeing how bad the modern church has become.
I've had a long history with the Carmelite church because I was going there for Sunday Mass long before I became a Catholic and it was there that the seeds of Catholicism were firmly planted in my heart. I do not want to abandon it because despite the bad behavior of the parishioners, they uphold traditional Mexican Catholic practices and don't deviate from orthodox Catholic dogma. That counts for something, right?

It's hard being a priest. You've got to evangelize, educate, and counsel people when they're spiritually vulnerable. It's a job made all the more difficult when your parish is ignorant of God.

Fortunately, the Lord rewarded our decision to go to our wedding church when a dear family friend came. He brought with him his good friend whom we helped move into her apartment a few months ago. The woman was delighted to see how much the baby had grown, and since it was before Mass, she got to sweet talk the baby in French for a bit (she was born and raised on the Caribbean island of Martinique, where the dominant language is French). We were worried about our friend for a while because he'd gotten himself caught up with a heretical outfit that under the guise of being pro-life, was pushing overpriced rosaries of poor quality and some condemned "visions" of the Virgin Mary to boot, but with this appearance, it helped put hubby and I at ease. After Mass, the woman told me that she had recently been attending our wedding church for the last few weeks because she wanted to come back to the Church. I knew she'd been away from the Catholic Church for a long time, but now that she is elderly she wants to have her spiritual affairs in order. She let me know that she'd recently contacted a priest at the church to arrange for a Confession, but had yet to hear back to set a date and time. This being the Year of Mercy, now's as good a time as any to recommit to living a lifestyle in accordance with the teachings of the Church and partaking of the Sacraments as often as possible.

Take that, Pebbles Flintstone!

And, most importantly, the baby got to radiate lots of cuteness beams! Her hair is finally long enough on top for me to make a ponytail of it, though the back of her head still has a ways to go before I can make a tail out of it. And to think, when she was here, my mother wanted to give the baby a haircut!

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Pictures of the Day

Greetings!

Recently, I was changing the bed sheets after hubby and I woke up to a carnage of fig bars smeared all over the covers. I keep telling him not to leave food in the bedroom, but he never listens because hubby is a chronic snacker and needs to satisfy his munchies when he wakes up at night. In addition to tempting the baby with mischief, I'm tired of having to brush crumbs out of the clean bed every time I lay down in it as well as vacuuming the carpet every other day.

As it were, the baby decided to "help" me with putting on the sheets...

There's a ghost in my bedroom!

Like many small children, she discovered the magic of a bed sheet. Flare it up, and it's like an instant tent! When she gets older, she'll probably run around the house wearing a sheet as a cape, just like I did when I was little.

It wasn't a ghost, it was my baby daughter!

The bed eventually did get made and the carpet vacuumed of all the crumbs that came out of the blankets. I really should make my hubby do the vacuuming in the bedroom. After all, the one who makes the mess is the one who needs to clean it up, right?

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An Update on the Crib

Hello again, dear readers!

I thought I'd take some time to let you all know how the crib is coming along. A few weeks back, I wrote about how my daughter had outgrown her baby cradle and needed a bigger bed. Some friends gave us their daughter's old crib, but it was in need of a paint job after being exposed to the elements in what was once our poorly-roofed shed (that problem is now fixed, thankfully). I have the paint, the sandpaper, the caster wheels for mobility, and brushes to complete this project. Now, I present my progress.

At the beginning, this was the crib

For the past few weeks, usually in the evening when the sun is setting and there is more shade in the yard, I've been diligently sanding off the old paint using some 60 grit sandpaper. Due to the way the crib is designed, I've had to sand it down all by hand because a sanding wheel would have been too impractical (and costly). Let me just state that anyone who tells you that sanding is easy should be smacked BECAUSE MY HANDS AND ARMS ARE SORE!! I think I'm turning into an old woman and getting carpal tunnel syndrome in my hands from this project. Also, there's alot of dust that gets kicked up with sanding furniture. Thank goodness the paint is non toxic!

My sandpapers. 60 grit is for getting the old paint off, 150 grit is for roughing up the paint between coats

Well, today I finally finished sanding. I used up all five sheets that were in the little package and got about half the old paint off. My husband had to remind me not to go too hard on the sanding because the paint that wasn't easily coming off was just going to be painted over. The crib will still be white, but the surface paint will be roughed up enough to get the new coat of paint to stick.

Part-way through. Sanding furniture is alot harder than it looks...

Before I paint on the first coat, though, a bit of reinforcement is needed on the head and foot boards of the crib. Either the weather or rough handling caused it, but a side of the headboard is coming apart and the foot board has a side that is split near where the holes to insert the screws bolting the leg to the board go. I am NOT letting my kid sleep in something that could become a safety hazard down the road (hell, I'D be apprehensive about sleeping in a bed which featured these structural defects too), so I'm taking care of this now before I go any further. The rest of the frame is alright, though. Some strong glue and a few well-placed screws should take care of this problem.

All done! My arms hurt...

So this is where I'm at now. I'll keep you all updated as this project progresses. This is the first big DIY project that I've done, so I want the results to be a point of pride. Stay tuned!

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The Family Visit

Hello, dear readers!

My apologies for not writing recently. I've been very busy working on the baby's crib, the car, and then this week, my family came down to Arizona to visit me (also because my dad has a conference to attend in Phoenix), so I had to spend a few days cleaning and tidying up the house. I normally push for it in one go, but babies have a way of preventing that from happening.

Originally, my mom and grandmother wanted to come and visit on Wednesday, but my hubby had to work and so we told them Thursday would be the better day. If they were gonna take the time to come down and visit, it would be better if all of us were home. They reluctantly agreed, but as it turned out, the daughter of a longtime friend of my grandmother's was in town and she stopped by for a visit so nobody was lonely.

Unfortunately, despite feeling optimistic about their arrival, this visit by my family was not a pleasant one. Despite the stalemate that is currently in place, the family feud which drove me out of Illinois and back here to Arizona still has not been resolved. Tensions boiled up again over lunch at a renowned local steakhouse when my mom inadvertently admitted to force-feeding me squash as a baby, and laughed while describing my "do not like" face. I do not, nor have I ever liked squash, and to know that I'd had the stuff shoved down my throat without regard to whether it was something I might not like was unsettling to say the least. Call it petty or an overreaction, but I'm not a fan of force-feeding, regardless of whether the food being shoved down the gob is "good for me" or not. I might have overlooked this faux pas years ago, but parenthood has sensitized me to issues surrounding food and children.

Scene from lunch. Baby got to sit in the big people's chair!

Things just went downhill after that. While hubby and my mom went to Home Depot to get some lumber, I stayed home with my grandmother and the baby. Tensions erupted again due to our different parenting styles. My grandmother is old-school and believes picking up/holding children often spoils them, whereas I am of the opinion that you can never give a baby too much attention because attention helps the child feel secure and loved.

My mom bought those booties for me when I was a baby. They still had the Montgomery Ward's price tag on the wrapper!

Case in point: the baby jail. My grandma had me put the baby in the baby jail, despite me warning her that was not a good idea since the baby doesn't like being confined in there. Sure enough, the baby threw a fit but my grandma was able to keep her attention long enough for me to finish washing the leftover dishes in the sink. At that point, the baby, who was full from lunch and in need of a nap but in her usual characteristic self refused to lay down and sleep, became very cranky from fatigue. A quick nursing session sent her off to dreamland, and my grandmother helped me fold and put away the laundry that I'd brought in because the sky was getting dark and it looked like it was gonna rain.

Four generations, and Pest whom I insisted on holding for this family picture

When my hubby and mom came back from Home Depot, we took a few more pictures and they left, but not before my mom threw a hissy fit about my perceived time spent online and communications. I really don't spend much time on the computer because babies have a way of taking up all your time and attention (I'm offline most of the day, going on only at night after the baby has gone to sleep to cruise Facebook, watch videos and write), but in her mind, I'm online all day and neglecting the baby while playing games and talking to "uneducated whores" on Facebook. My denial of such an absurd idea only served to reinforce it in her mind because save for the once-in-a-blue-moon emails, my communication with her is limited. It's not out of malice, but out of a desperate attempt to preserve my sanity and well being are the reasons why I rarely talk to her. Family feuds combined with personality issues (I suspect that my mother is a narcissist, given her die-hard petty-bourgeois elitist attitude) can do this. Needless to say, hubby and I were relieved when the two old women left. It served to reinforce how NOT to raise children.

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