loafe.com

You know the song. You love the song. It’s our song, you and me baby.

Tomorrow marks my last day at work and this weekend marks my last full weekend in Tucson and Monday marks my last Monday in Tucson and Tuesday marks the day I head back to Boston, which feels to me, at this point in my life, like I’m returning home. There are a million things I hate about Boston and I’m prepared for the inevitable days ahead of me when I curse all that I survey and cry, “WHY DID I LEAVE TUCSON FOR THIS BLOODY FUCKING ASSTOWN?” but I am in love with Boston and Boston’s head over heels for me, so it should all be okay. Just as coming back here to AZ felt like the right move when I was preggers, heading back east now that I just LOOK pregnant makes sense. Leaving town…it’s all very sad and dramatic, but not really. The best thing of it all? I get to take the little guy with me. He doesn’t have to stay behind, he gets to come with me! I can go anywhere and be okay for that reason alone.

I have to admit now that Ryland has turned one, I feel a lot less pressure, a lot less stress, a lot less worry. I made it. No one died. We all learned some things and nothing was done perfectly, but we’re here and together and happy. I feel proud. I also feel like I’m free of the “oh my god my baby’s first _____!!” intensity. It can be very stressful, having to make every “First” great or memorable or special. I know there are more firsts coming, but not like the first year. I can relax a little now, I’m gonna be a mom for the rest of my life, no need to get so crazy over it. So what if I didn’t get him professionally photographed at the standard 1, 3, 6, 9 and 12 month marks. I did 1 month, I did 8 months and I’m planning on getting them done in Boston to mark his 1st year. Good enough for me. I didn’t make all his baby food and freeze them in ice cube trays and make my own yogurt and add wheat germ to his oatmeal. He’s even had SUGAR and WHITE FLOUR oh my god. I didn’t wear him constantly (for the uninitiated “babywearing” refers to the practice of keeping your child close to you in a sling/carrier for much of the day). He doesn’t have a catalog nursery, or even a very well-organized or matching one, but he’s got toys and clothes and a bed and some little decorations he likes. We had fun and we hugged and kissed and danced and laughed and cried and it was the best year of my life and perfect in every way that counts.

I should be more panicked or anxious or nervous that we’re leaving in a few days, but I’m calm and relaxed about it all. I look around and see the fifteen gazillion things left to do and think “well, it’ll get done…one way or another, it’ll get done.” Whatever Gordon’s been slipping into my food is working.

(please people, that is a JOKE. At least, I hope it is.)

Oh my god I just remembered. Tiffany and I were at lunch or dinner or somewhere and we were talking about loafe and she had a brilliant idea. A family tree! A loafe family tree! Unlike all my other ideas and plans, this is one I’m going to do. But I need your help. The basic idea is that I’ll be creating a little family tree of my little loafers. Each branch will be his/her name and a photo, maybe a few other tidbits of information. It’ll all be electronic and we don’t need to use real names, but I’d prefer to use real photos, although I am sure some of you are balking at the notion of having your likeness out on the internet for all to see. But it’s for the family, man, the family. It’s okay to let your beauty shine. But if you feel super weird about giving me a real photo for whatever reason, then I suppose I’ll have to live with a drawing or some other substitute. Whoa there, calm down, don’t start sending me photos right now. Let me get moved and settled in the New World and I’ll plant my little electronic tree and request your photos at that time. Then I’ll put it together and we can all live in e-infamy. I guess loafe isn’t really all that infamous, e or otherwise, but maybe it is a little, every now and then. I do curse a lot.

Okay, back to packing. And by packing I mean watching TV and avoiding packing.

Ryland’s birthday celebrations this weekend were all a rousing success. At least for me and my brood, perhaps others feel differently. Ryland’s only one–birthdays and parties really don’t mean much to him yet, so my family and friends were in a way doing all the celebrating for me. Which is really just too sweet and heartwarming to describe. Plus, everyone loves the little guy, he’s quite swell and undeniably cute, I think everyone enjoyed celebrating him. I’m a lucky gal to have such a ab fab baby. Truly lucky.

Mr. Rye Bread had A LOT of sugar this weekend, extreme overload, but it’s okay. It isn’t like he eats such copious amounts on a daily basis. You can’t deny a kid cake on his birthday. That’s just wrong.

The family party Friday night was warm and comfortable and homey and I was very pleased and then on Saturday, my friends went all out for us and threw a great party. The theme? Ryland Island. Yes I know, it was v. cool. And wait till you guys see the cake. It was two perfect evenings and I am soooo glad that we had two small parties instead of one big overwhelming party. That would have been too much and we all had more fun this way.

I should have told everyone not to get him gifts though. It feels wrong on some level, like maybe parties are just excuses for presents; plus it feels like I’m being materialistic and teaching Ry how to be materialistic. But at the same time, I felt really touched and grateful that my friends and my family gave him gifts, they certainly were not obligated in any way. I think maybe next year, if we have another party, I am going to avoid the whole gift-giving aspect. I’ll keep the cake and the candles and the singing, that’s fun. We’ll see, I’m great on talk and pretty lame on follow-through. The giftcards will come in handy once we get to Boston that’s for sure.

I should have b-day pics soon, when I have a bit of extra time. Although don’t hold your breath. I still haven’t sent out thank-you cards for my baby shower last year and now it’s too late. I’m a chump of the most supreme kind. I am going to make absolute sure that I send thank-you cards for his birthday, though. Really, I am! I swear it.

Anyway, it’s time for bed, I’ve got three thousand things to do tomorrow, including eating leftover birthday cake. also, I’ve said the word “party” way too much in this entry.

happy birthday ryland!!

yay!

so on wordpress, they have this little section that lists links to your site (yay lists!) and there was this one I noticed today and I clicked it on it and guess what I saw? The Poster! THE POSTER! I used to have it on my dorm room wall and I loved it and who the frank knows what happened to it. I never could remember what it was called or anything but thanks to the lovely internet and lovely wordpress and lovely links I know now. I am very happy. So I thank you Flip, thank you thank you, for having that poster and telling us all about it and just being all-around fab.

How cool that it’s called between the gaps in the memory. I love it!

Oh and by the way, you should all be thrilled to know that Ryland is finally, FINALLY, sleeping through the night. It took almost a year, but we did it. We can lay him down in his crib, awake, and he’ll go to sleep on his own, whereas before it was usually a big production of bouncing and walking and nursing and cajoling, and it was hit or miss, and he’d still manage to wake up 1, 2, 3 or more times a night, looking for comfort (mostly in the form of a breast). So it’s nice. But at the same time, I feel sad. You know, that whole letting go stuff. I can’t keep Ryland a baby no matter how hard I try. Every new stage and milestone is fascinating and fun and sweet, but I still get sad and nostalgic over that which is now over. I can’t help it. I love where we are now, but I miss where we used to be. I guess that’s what makes life so interesting.

Now that we have him adjusted to this new sleeping routine, it will all be turned upside down soon when we move and are living in a new house. Poor guy.

Speaking of moving, I have boxes and packing materials and piles of crap EVERYWHERE in my house and it is way beyond even my sickeningly high tolerance of mess. And instead of doing something productive tonight, I managed to play some more Katamari, read some stuff on the internet, sort through Ryland’s pictures, post here, and a million other useless activities.

But anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m nothing if not a wait-until-the-absolute-possible-last-minute kind of girl. This is how I know I will live a very long time. For every day that I’m due to die, I’ll say “eh, I’ll get to it tomorrow…”

And as anyone who knows me will tell you, I am very good under pressure. I work much better when I have two seconds left to finish something then when I have three weeks. It’s true.

Also: we cut Ryland’s hair finally. Well Tiffany mostly did and she made it look quite lovely, until I took control of the scissors and totally mangled the front, where his “bangs” are…or should be anyway. The most important part! christ in a bucket. I am such an ass. She soooo shouldn’t have let me have those damn instruments of destruction.