Worth the wait, I'm sure.

You harassed me about failing to post photos; here they are. You'll notice that Dutch pretty much wears pyjamas all the time now, day and night. I'm trying to persuade her that it's good to wear daytime clothes.

This is what we do in our new apartment. It's pretty much a nonstop dance party since we moved.

A Report

So far, the new apartment beats the old apartment. Here's the score:
Old Apartment: Rats in plumbing (-1), drafty (-1), expensive (-1), crappy landlord (-1), splintery floor (-1), crappy stove (-1), crappy lighting in bathroom (-1), great neighborhood (+2), lots of space (+1) = -4

New Apartment: drafty (-1), probably moldy (-2), excellent lighting in bathroom (+1), good neighborhood (+1), decent kitchen with fullsize appliances (+1), not very much space (-1), not so expensive (+1) = 0

I'm pretty happy with 0.

Outsourcing

Dutch has a babysitter, Daisy, who's been picking her up from daycare and hanging out with her for 2 hours once a week. Daisy is an earnest college freshman, approximately four-and-a-half feet tall, and Dutch loves her. So far they've gone grocery shopping, done ballet performances at Daisy's apartment, and gotten hot cocoa. We pay Daisy the paltry sum of $8 an hour, and in exchange, she is scrupulously punctual, amuses Dutch without breaking her, emails us photos (like these!), and has promised us a DVD of the ballet episode.

I feel a little exploitative. While $8 an hour is a little pricey for a babysitter (but cheap for a nanny), it's also just barely over minimum wage. We can't really afford it, but it's barely worth Daisy's time, and certainly not proportionate to the value we put on the work that goes into taking care of our girl. As far as we can tell, Daisy gives the task her full attention, and does a terrific job.


We should be paying her a lot more. But we can't.

Also, Dutch is going to be attending her daycare fulltime, starting next month (hooray!), so we won't be needing Daisy for regular babysitting anymore, just for occasional weekend or evening sits. Dutch will miss her, and so will we, though we'll certainly enjoy hanging onto our $16 a week.

P.S. Yes, that's not cocoa on her cheek - Dutch fell down and scraped her face . (Just before going to see the dentist who last saw her after she'd fallen and knocked out her tooth. He seemed a little suspicious.)

Competence: The Hygiene Hypothesis

Dutch hated moving. She told us so a number of times, and also repeatedly suggested that we move BACK to our old apartment. On moving day, she and I got a ride to our new home from our wonderful friends who helped us move, and after we all got out of the car, she refused to budge, saying that she didn't want to go to our new house. As I was exhausted and carrying a bunch of crap, I got pretty annoyed and more or less bodily dragged her across the street.

But she seems to have put all that behind her now. She's pretty happy here, and the main contributing factor is that in this apartment, she can easily reach the bathroom faucet and the medicine cabinet. Because of this technical breakthrough, she is suddenly enthusiastic about washing her hands and brushing her teeth. Her hatred of wiping her own butt is suddenly a thing of the past (she always demanded that Cook or I do it so she wouldn't have to have her hands washed), and she now carries out whole bathroom episodes without assistance, and with (as far as we can tell) reasonably decent hygiene. She brushes her teeth four or five times a day. (She is also an excellent spitter, thanks to special tutoring from Uncle Taekwondo.) She's just thrilled to be so independent, and we're thrilled to be leaving the butt-wiping days behind us.

Dental Obedience

Dutch had a checkup today. After bashing out a front tooth last spring, she's supposed to go in for a checkup every 6 months. Our budget doesn't allow for such hyper-vigilance, so we figured every 11 months would do the trick. She also got her first cleaning, and we discovered that her new obsessive dental hygiene diligence (more about that later) actually involves pretty good technique. She hated the whole checkup and cleaning process, and I had one of my at-least-weekly conflicts about What I'm Teaching Her: Is It Really The Right Thing. She moaned and whimpered and whined and finally started to cry in earnest while the dentist probed and polished, but she still did what he instructed her to do, even as the tears coursed down her cheeks and dripped off her ears. I was proud of her for fighting her fear, and glad that she managed to get through something that I think is reasonably important, but some part of me wanted her to bite the dentist's finger, leap off the chair, and run out of the room.

Three Cheers for the Willamette River!

My new commute is way better than my old one. It's a little shorter, and the bus stop is slightly closer to our home, but the key element is that the bridge crossing is MUCH better. Portland is chock-full of bridges, and the one you cross really determines the feel of your whole day. We used to cross the Steel Bridge, which carries the light rail and a number of buses, and is low and sturdy as befits such an admirable workhorse of a public investment. Now we cross the Ross Island Bridge, which is ambitious and lofty, and provides a great view to the north of the city in its beauty, and a great view to the south of lots of trees, in their beauty.

We're Back

We got our phone a day earlier than anticipated. However, we still have eighty freaking billion things to do before our life resumes tomorrow. Our new place is very nice, but we're still trying to figure out how to cram all our crap into its smallness. We have also made the unpleasant discovery that the walls and windows are so poorly insulated that in the morning they're all (except the interior walls) wet with condensation. We will be spending a lot of time wiping off mildew for the next few months, alas. Hopefully not being sickened by nasty black mold growing in the walls.

BUT we survived the move! Hooray!

Au Revoir

Due to some not-so-stellar planning, we will be phone-less for the next three days. Also internet-less. Farewell, computer-land!

Ups and Downs

My god - we're moving in LESS THAN 48 HOURS!!!! Agh!!!!

Apparently we've been in denial. I'm ashamed to say how much remains unpacked. Let's just say that Dutch's room is entirely unpacked, because she is in profound denial, and has already announced that she is NOT moving, that Cook and I can move and she will live here by herself. I'm not sure how she's going to make rent, but given this morning's conversation, I suspect it will involve street corners.

The good news is that we did manage to get some stuff (including pretty much all the books) moved last weekend with The Big Cooks and their rented minivan, so we are already a tiny fraction moved in!

The bad news is that we still have vast piles of crap to move. How can we possibly have accumulated so much crap?

The other good news is that we found yet another rat in the toilet tonight, giving us a good reason to not regret moving. (And yes, the lid was down yet again, so we are 100% confident that it came either up from the sewer or down the vent from the roof, not from inside the apartment.) This rat was dead. I'm not sure if that's better or worse.
Here's a picture. Sorry if it grosses you out, but since I was the one who found it, I have no sympathy. I'm telling you, KEEP THE LID CLOSED!!!

Abstinence Only?

This morning on the way to daycare/school/work, Dutch was drawing in the condensation on the window of the bus while happily talking to herself. Cook and I enjoyed the respite from the incessant questions, but I kept a wary eye on her, lest she draw or say something to offend the many many people squished in around us. (This is ALWAYS a danger on the bus - she's said some pretty awful things, which I cannot bring myself to write in a semi-public place.) After a while, she turned to us and announced that she was drawing a picture of "all my children's daddies."

I am Zen

It is really hard impersonating a productive person. We're juggling so much right now that people keep mistaking me for the sort of person who is chronically Terribly Busy and thrives on it. I'm not. I'm the sort of person who much prefers to be not at all busy. I'm not very good at being busy, and I feel like nothing ever gets done. This is a temporary state, and we are looking forward to being done with it. Someday.

However, a woman I know through work emailed me recently to suggest that I read a book called "Who Ordered This Truckload of Dung?" to help me be more zen about my crazy life. (She emailed me after a meeting in which I crushed the cheerful pre-meeting chit-chatty atmosphere by informing everybody that my brain refuses to shut down at night and therefore I am chronically sleep-deprived.) I duly ordered it up from the library, and read some helpful anecdotes ("parables") full of pearls of spiritual wisdom.

I leave you with this: Think of the 998 perfect bricks, and not the two crooked bricks in the wall!

No Accounting For Taste

Dutch has a new doll - an ugly, battered little soft-bodied doll (it's a long story) dressed as a ballerina. She told us she chose it because "she has happy lips and sad eyes," and she eventually decided to name the doll "Burrito-er."

Dutch's Inheritance

This is interesting.

Americans throw away 1% of everything we buy within 6 months of purchase.

"Our enormously productive economy... demands that we make consumption our way of life, that we convert the buying and use of goods into rituals, that we seek our spiritual satisfaction, our ego satisfaction, in consumption... we need things consumed, burned up, replaced, and discarded at an ever-accelerating rate." Economist Victor Lebow, sometime shortly after WWII, according to the film "The Story of Stuff" which you should check out. It's kind of cheesy, but a nice recap of pretty much The Whole Problem With Everything, and you can watch it for free, and it's only 20 minutes long!

Placebos

School starts today. Cook is at class right now, and I'm in charge (ie procrastinating and typing while Dutch watches ancient Sesame Street episodes in the other room) all evening. My classes start tomorrow.

Our adventures this weekend included The Spending of The Holiday Money. I had put half of Dutch's Christmas-gift-cash into her savings account, and gave her the rest in cash, to split between her spending, saving, and sharing jars. This left her with a shockingly large amount of spending money, which she decided last weekend to spend on 1) Moviestar Sunglasses and 2) Doctor Toys. So this weekend, we ceremoniously took out money and went to the sunglasses store, which was unexpectedly closed. We then went to the fantastic and fantastically expensive local toy store to get the Doctor Toys. Dutch grabbed the box and made a beeline for the register, but I checked her and asked if she was SURE she wanted to get this ridiculously expensive German kit of wooden old-fashioned-style medical equipment. She was sure. I pointed out that it was a fairly weeny kit (particularly for the price!), and did not, for example, include a stethoscope. She pointed out that there was a separately-sold stethoscope on the shelf, and then decided she wanted to buy that, too, instead of the sunglasses. I stopped asking questions, and she solemnly went to the register and completed the transaction all on her own (though I had to remind her to get her change, because she was distracted by the fact that her head was about to explode from excitement). I have spent most of the last few days wearing bandages and getting shots, and Cook has resuscitated the persona of "Doctor Schmoobus," who does a sort of comic-medical routine that is extremely well-received by preschoolers in our home. Dutch has very little spending money left, but she certainly enjoyed her consuming! Her future patients/victims will be baffled when she hands them small green balls as medication.

Moooooooooving

So the new place is much smaller than our current place (about a third smaller), so we have to figure out how to cram our sprawling life into it. We made a graph paper scale diagram, and have been busily cutting out scale furniture. It looks like we have approximately the same square footage of furniture surface as we do floor surface. Some things will have to go.

Otherwise, it's a nicer place, with much more responsible management, and it'll cost $200 less a month, which is VERY nice. It's in a walkable neighborhood (though we're giving up the cool local co-op grocery for a QFC, which is sad), and the bus ride downtown (and to Dutch's daycare) is actually a little shorter.

Cook and I start school Monday, so we will have to do all our packing next weekend (and today). It's going to be a hectic few weeks! I guess I should go set up some boxes.

The Other Thing About Cars

Today we went out to the Car, intending to Drive down to our new apartment to sign a lease. As we approached the car, Cook said "Oh God" in a resigned voice, and after I stared at it a while ("What? Is that not the right car? Was it STOLEN?! Is there a broken window? Did someone dent it? Is it trapped in that parking place? What?") I realized that it was listing limply to one side - the tire was totally flat. As we have not owned a car in nearly 10 years, our collective tire-changing experience is um... minimal. I had no idea even how to begin to proceed. Happily, Cook somehow tapped into the primal Man Force and had the thing jacked up and the tire off before I could call the closest tire place ("Hi! Our tire broke!") and print out the instructions I found on the internet. So that all turned out remarkably well, thanks to Cook and his Man Force (and the fact that the spare was miraculously not flat), and then we drove very slowly and grimly to the tire place (anticipating having to pay a bundle for a new tire, and hoping the spare tire wouldn't fall off en route), where they gave us coffee and a warm place to sit and read about Britney Spears while they very quickly patched the tire for free. The company had done the installation of the tires in the first place, and apparently that includes free future fixing - we were awfully impressed. After we got back in the car, Cook and I spontaneously conducted the kind of conversation you see on local TV commercials - "Gosh, that was fast! And they did it for free! And they were so nice!" "Yeah, and they gave me this coffee, too! We love you, Les Schwab!"

This experience reminded us about the dark side of car-ownership (besides the whole plundering-the-planet thing) - maintenance! Unexpected expenses! Reading about Britney Spears!

Scary.

We have a new home! We'll be moving in two weeks.

The Year In Highlights

I started a job, was thrilled to be working, became somewhat less thrilled.
Dutch transitioned into three different daycare classes, with varying degrees of success.
Cook and I started school, with varying degrees of success.
Dutch learned to count to 11, recognize most of the letters in the alphabet, and accurately identify different kinds of household grime ("Mama, look at the dust bunnies! And a sticker bunny!).
Dutch achieved full potty-trainedness, just barely. After six months of daytime-only diaperlessness, she finally celebrated her "Poopaversary" last week - Cook promised her a Poop Party if she could poop in the toilet for a week, and that was apparently the incentive she needed. I warned him that he has to prepare the theme food for this party, which has yet to take place.
Dutch learned about the wonder of glitter and other art supplies (tissue paper!) that we don't carry here in Luddite Home.
My Christmas cactus flowered at the right time for the THIRD year in a row.
We made some friends, slowly.
We got to know a LOT about Portland, including the bus routes to all the thrift stores in town.
Dutch grew out of her carseat and several wardrobes.
My grandfather died. This makes me feel dizzy.
My two youngest cousins, whom I SWEAR are just barely pottytrained themselves, variously started college and began applying for college. This makes me feel dizzy.
Dutch broke her first bone and got her first professional haircut.
I learned how to embroider, very badly.

I'm omitting all kinds of things, I'm sure. I learned a lot about myself, Dutch learned a lot about everything, and Cook learned an alarmingly large amount about maps. We had a lot of lovely guests, we did a little minor traveling, we survived the Great Portland Blizzard of 2007 (a city-paralyzing 2.5 inches, about which I'm still bitter), and we built a lot of character. It was not the easiest year we've had as a family, but it wasn't the hardest! And 2008 is going to be terrific. I've got my fingers crossed that Portland has invested in another snowplough. And at least we'll get a new president.

Another one for the Baby Book!

I forgot to mention that Dutch achieved another First in 2007, squeezed in there at the last minute, and told me (in the throes of yet another Leaving-Home-Battle) "I HATE YOU!"

Alas. I thought we'd take another year or two to get to this point.

Anyway, it occurred to me after she said the words that maybe we are approaching a big step of distancing. She still loves us so very much, and thinks the world of us, and is almost completely open to us, but soon she will begin to see us as embarrassments and liabilities. She won't rest her head on my belly and adoringly pet my lovehandles. She won't want to hold my hand when she poops (this will surely be a terrible wrench for me). She won't tell us everything that pops into her tiny mind. She will hide stuff from us. She will realize that her parents are incorrigible dorks who must be kept apart from her friends if at all possible. I know this is a gradual separation process, beginning at birth and ending with somebody's death, but I suspect there are some big leaps in there, too, punctuated-equilibrium-style. I don't know exactly when the first big one comes along, but I'm thinking 2008 might be the year. She's working hard now on building a life of her own, leading up to the thrilling and terrifying prospect of kindergarten (um, nearly three years away - how can it still be so far away?), and pulling away from us is an important part of that, which is kind of a mixed blessing. The number of times that she will fling her arms around my neck in that desperately passionate way is limited, but so is the number of times that she will require handholding on the toilet. It'd be awfully nice if you could have that raw love without the raw neediness, but it wouldn't be the same.

I don't think I'll ever have anything but raw love for her. I'll ALWAYS want to (desperately, passionately) fling my arms around her neck. Come to think of it, all too soon I'll need her to hold my hand while I'm on the toilet. I guess we should both find ways to enjoy the separation while it lasts.

Happy New Year!

We promised Dutch she could stay awake as long as she liked on New Year's Eve. She was very excited.It became clear that what she really wanted was for us to go to sleep so she could be the only one awake and she could pretend that she was a grownup who lives by herself. She suggested about 800 times that maybe we should go to sleep. Around 8:30, though, she made me lie down on the couch, laid a blanket over me, laid another blanket over that (more or less making me up like a mattress) , crawled between the two blankets, and fell asleep in about three minutes. An hour later she peed on the couch, and slept through the peeing, the cleanup, and the transition to her bed. (This was her first bedwetting episode in at least a month... damn holidays.) So we rang in the New Year in style!

Today we drove (!) the car (!) to a "wilderness" area at the edge of the city and got a rare fix of outdoorsiness (after the obligatory New Year's Day TV-watching, during which Michigan beat some other team at football) . Dutch liked the carnivore poop we found, with fur in it, and kept running ahead and hollering "guys, I found something!" usually indicating a thrilling thing like... a rock. It was fun. Also, the park is on the airport flight path, so we saw a lot of planes, all of which Dutch breathlessly deemed "gorgeous." It was a good start to the year.

Dutch has got my cold (which is weird, since I still have it, too, though I'd be happy to let it go), and is oozing and sliming all over the place. She has decided that it's inefficient to bother with a hankie when she has such a convenient shirtsleeve, so she's extra-disgusting.

That's the news so far in '08. May all your new years kick off with less mucous, and plenty of rocks!