Dear Anonymous

Dear Anonymous (Who's worried about Normy's future response to the photos in the previous post),

It is our intention to raise our son with enough self esteem to be able to laugh at himself when it is merited; and to know that a wearing a dress at three years-old doesn't detract from his masculinity.

Secondly, there is nothing wrong with men in dresses. My husband wore a sarong the whole week of our honeymoon and he looked HOT! Not to mention, he's been know to do a little living room dancing in a dress from time to time. No one ever wonders if Smoochy is really a fruitcake, even when his shirt labels him as such. Now that's manly.

Notice how his anklet practically exudes testosterone.

Grey Grey Go Away!

We are locked in an endless winter right now. It's grey outside. Dirty snow, dirty sky: I haven't seen the sunshine in ages. There were about two weeks it didn't come out at all. The world has been obscured in a thick foggy blanket. The roads have been ice-slicks. The slush and the mush are massive hazards.... and completely unavoidable if you HAVE to leave the house, say to take your three year old to pre-school.

Well, I shouldn't say I haven't seen the sun at all. Yesterday it shone for the first time in weeks. Two? Three? I'm not sure. It was glorious. I had to pull out my sunglasses as I drove to and from the gym. Even wearing them, my eyes, so accustomed to the dim, were forced to squint painfully. It was bitter sweet. However, it could only be enjoyed from inside. The 15 degree temperatures were made colder by a biting and whipping wind. At least there was sun.

Last night I dreamed that it was March and 52 degrees... I realized in half-sleep that it was still January. Which in turn, forced me to acknowledge the pain in my hip, and do the pregnant hippopotumus-roll over onto my other side.

Smoochy has been urging me to post. But, What to say? It is as though we have all been hibernating. Besides my knitting, reading, and even a little sewing, there isn't much to report. The kids have been watching too many Disney movies, I have spent too much time in a novel, and there is no end in sight.

I'm really not bitter or complaining. It's just winter and it will make me appreciate the spring that much more. The soggy, wet, defrost of spring. I don't like the lethargy of winter and I need to find a way to energize my batteries. But, really it's OK.

The kids are a constant source of entertainment at least. A couple of weeks back we watched this wonderful claymation-type version of Peter and the Wolf on Netflix (though I have also seen it on PBS). Have you had the chance to watch it? It's really is incredible. After watching, Normy kept requesting "Wolf music!" So, I purchased Sergei Prokofiev's entire Symphony. For a week we listed to it at breakfast picking the different animals out of the melodies of music. Then came the Peter and the Wolf dance parties. The funny thing was, Normy got it in his head that one COULD NOT DANCE unless wearing a pretty princess dress, (thank you, Cinderella). Thus ensued a week or so of gender-bending around here. I could only get one of Georgia's dresses to fit him, and he wore it day after day, bringing it to me and requesting to be a prince! So, there you go, that was the last time I've had my camera out...

Timeless Treasures

Good lord, Paypal and Etsy make it far too easy to part with your money. What a deadly combination! Anyway, Smoochy's cousin, Amber, just made that equation so much more threatening to my bank balance. She's gotten into silver stamp jewelry making. Ugh, so many lovely things! I just thought I'd pass the link on to you, so I wouldn't be alone in temptation.

Check out her Jewelry Blog

and Esty Store.

I just ordered these little lovelies... wonderful.

I bet you can guess where this is going...

When I was growing up my parents didn't have a lot of money. However, they worked very hard to make sure that my siblings and I didn't know it. We were lavished with love, attention... and Barbies. We had a small city's worth of Barbies. They were my sister Kate's and my favorite toy, by far. We spend endless hours coming up with "scenes" for our Barbies to play out (These scenes were often outlined in pencil and misspelled words on notebook paper). From there we set the stage with just the right outfits, hair-dos, and props. Once we had the storyboard set just-so, we'd announce "play!" and begin our Barbie adventure; only "pausing" for lunch but often "rewinding" to go back through a particularly fun scene or to get the action just right.

When it came about that our legion of Barbies desired a mansion, my Mom and Dad one-uped Mattel and saved themselves some cash. I'll never forget the moment of unveiling on Christmas morning of their handmade Barbie dream house. They took four big boxes, painted the walls, sewed on curtains, and even carpeted the boxes with scraps from the construction site where my dad slaved for us. There were two gorgeous pink bed rooms resplendent with white and pink canopy beds; a kitchen with pretty yellow curtains; and a living room with wonderful wicker furniture. Over the years there were additions added to the Barbie house until the boxes lined an entire wall of our play room. And though the boxes sagged in the ceiling some by the end, we treasured them and they survived intact until we outgrew the whole business of Barbies.

I know, busty Barbie gets a bad rap for presenting our daughters with an unrealistic body image at a young age. Her opponents claim she teaches materialism and greed to the very young. And though I can't deny Barbie's crazy rockn' body, bottle-blonde locks, her endless buy-now wardrobe, or all her other collect-them-all accessories... I think any toy is what you make of it. Sure, I hate the fact that Barbie is mass-produced in Chinese sweatshops. (I'm working on a whole Made-In-China blog post... we're giving it up as a family resolution.) But, Barbie can be anything. She can be a Doctor, a teacher, a mermaid. Heck, our Barbies were rock stars, and mothers, and princesses to be saved from Dragons. Barbies even taught us about diversity. My Florida-cracker sister and I had four black Barbies, one lonely Asian (who was my favorite for a log time), and many hispanic Barbies. They were all cast as the ingénue at various times in our scenes. Plus, most importantly, Barbies (and other such toys) were the vehicle that cemented the amazing bond of sisterhood between Kate and I. From the start, she and I were best friends.

So, it should come as no surprise when I tell you, yesterday at the ultrasound, when we were told we were expecting an other girl I squealed in absolute delight. Immediately intoxicating visions of knitting with luxurious pink yarn, matching Christmas dresses, and BARBIES swirled in my head. I can't help it... SISTERS! I am so excited. Sure, it mean's my mother's-intuition is crap; I was just so sure it was a boy. And though I would have been equally thrilled to be knitting masculine little longies, envisioning a house full of wrestling children and more Lego castles than floorspace... I feel nothing but giddiness over being wrong in my prediction of the baby's sex.

Maybe part of it is that we can put the name anxiety firmly to rest. I was really torturing myself to come up with a good boy name. The night before last I awoke at 2 am, 3:30 am and finally at 4:30 am each time with a list of boy names scrolling unwanted through my brain: "Able (great suggestion!), Albert (NO!), Arthur, Augustus, Brian..." Seriously, in alphabetic order and everything! We will have our little Lola; Smoochy and I couldn't be more resolved or united in our choice of name. We simply HAD to have a Lola... which might be why we were chosen to have another girl in the first place! Smoochy said to me last night before bed, that he was really glad that we were having a girl because he loves the name so much. He was worried that if it were a boy and our last child (undecided) that he might never get his Lola. How very sweet, I love him.

So, that's our news. A girl. A sweet wonderful girl.

Also, A huge thank you to everyone who commented on my last post. That was a riot. I have NEVER in 5 years of blogging had so man comments on a post! And your name suggestions were awesome. Corin, don't worry, I won't steal River! (And none of you had better, either!) ;-)

What's in a Name?

"That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet."

So true, Juliet. Be that as it may I think it's fair to say that I am torturing myself obsessing over baby names. Specifically boy baby names. I spend hours on this site: Baby Name Wizard. Have you seen it? And every night after the kids are in bed my brain instantly switches over to baby names. Smoochy called it the other evening when I started throwing out suggestions. He said, "Ah... you do this every night!" I haven't been falling asleep easily because I lay there and feel the baby flutter and rack my brain for the perfect name.

I expect a lot out of a name. Giving someone their name is a HUGE responsibility. That first definition of self makes a big impression, I think. We're talking nicknames in grade school, resumes in adulthood, and everything in between. Of course I can't be satisfied with a name that simply appeals to my sense of aesthetic. I want a name that has deep significance, ties the child to it's past, or if we're lucky fits their inner being. I know, a tall order. My son is named after his father; plus, I adore the name Jacob... so that one is a winner. Though, I sure wish it wasn't in the top ten. Like many in my generation, I would prefer a less common name, that still manages to sound familiar. Like Georgia. Georgia has the perfect name in my book. Georgia Elizabeth meets all my criteria. It is the place where her Daddy and I fell in love and had our first house. It is a lovely old name that you don't hear every day, but sounds elegant and sophisticated. Elizabeth is my mother's middle name, further giving her name a sense of past and history. Georgia's name was a real home run.

If this lovely little baby growing in my belly turns out to be a girl we have this name thing all sewn up. Our second daughter's name has been chosen for quite a while now. Lola Elaine. I know most of you hear that name and think "Lo-lo-lo Lola" from the Kinks son, but that one doesn't taint my joy in the name. I think of another song...

"Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl, with yellow ribbons in her hair and her dress cut way down to there..."

OK, so maybe naming my daughter after a showgirl isn't the thing to do. But, that song is magic to me. It is part of the soundtrack of Smoochy's and my courtship. There was this night club where we would go dancing that has multipul rooms. One for top 40, one for country, a jazz room, and a retro room. I would never have gone into the retro room if it wasn't for him... but with him I would dance to anything. In fact he's the only guy I've ever really danced with. I used to think I could dance, but it was my own personal style (chipmunk on acid) complete with non-stop swirling hands and fast moving feet. Not something that lent itself to being partnered. In fact, I wanted space on the dance floor so I could dip and spin and kick all to myself in my own little bubble. I had a long thick braid that I would flip around like a horses tail shooing flies if boys got to close. But, with Smoochy everything changed. Suddenly I wanted a partner. So one night we were dancing in this retro room, and he requested the Copacabana. The DJ played it, and the song cleared the dance floor. Suddenly, everyone needed a drink. But, not us. He swung me out into the big empty space and twirled me and dipped me all the way through the song. I felt beautiful, carefree, and light as a feather.

At our wedding, Smoochy requested it in a moment of spontaneity, immediately after our "first dance". No one joined us of the floor and once agin we found ourselves in the spotlight acting out Lola's tragic love life in a little night club in Cuba. It was the best.

So Lola Elaine: a perfect name. Elaine is Smoochy's mother's middle name, adding once agin to the depth of history. True: Lola is a little trendy these days. But, I've long since gotten over the fact that I am not really original. At least it's not in the top ten like Jacob is!

The problem is, I am almost 99% sure this baby is a boy. I can just feel it. Deep in my gut, from the moment I knew I was pregnant I was sure this was a boy. Of course, I am not the most intuitive person. However, there are physical signs that lead me to suspect this baby's maleness. For one, I have acne pretty bad right now. With Normy's pregnancy, my skin was a wreck. I have never had worse acne in my life. With, Georgia I had beautiful clear skin. Then there are my breasts. With Normy, they went up a cup-size and we very tender. With Georgia, they hardly changed at all. Which do you think is the case this time? Plus, this baby is due in June... right on target to be a Gemini with Normy and Smoochy, who are both June babies. Georgia and I are both February babies. Hmm... see what I mean: BOY!

I don't think I can make it 40 weeks for a definitive answer. Despite my inner hippie, I am planning to find out for sure with an ultrasound. I figure I bought the hospital ticket, I might as well go for the hospital ride right? ;-) I really just want confirmation. A part of me feels like I would be doing this baby a disservice by so adamantly believing it's a boy when all the while she's really my little Lolita. Or maybe that's just my justification for being impatient and invasive. Either way, if the baby cooperates, I'll know pink or blue on the 15th!

Boy's names are really giving me a headache, though. There are so many fewer choices than girl names, and I can't seem to come up with any with both significance and a aesthetic appeal. That, and Smoochy and I can't seem to find any common ground. To every name I suggest he simply says, "ALBERT."

Albert? Really, Albert?

Let's just say, it's not my style.

But, what is my style? I'm not sure. But, I've spent a little time today make a list of names I like, so I'll share.

Lawrence Ripley (The cities where Smoochy and I hail from)

Edward Ripley (My great grandfather and home town)

Sebastian Charles (my great grandfather and Smoochy's father and grandfather)

Gabriel Craig (just like it and my dad)

Stefan William (just like it and my grandfather)

Edwin Dante (just like it and just like it)

Everett Ripley (Just like it and my home town)

Robert Franklin (just like it and just like it)

But, don't get attached to any of these. Smoochy is going to come home and take the red pen to all of them. "Albert."

OK, let the games begin: Do you think is it a boy or a girl? Also, if you'd be so kind, I'd love to hear your original boy-name suggestions! ;-)