oona's oasis

So things are crazy here yet again. My client sent finished their photo shoots and I'm busy making all the clothes look nice for their website. So I figured now might be a good time to show off Oona's bedroom. It's so tiny (8' x 8') that it probably wouldn't officially qualify as a bedroom, but it's a perfect little nursery for her right now.

I got this dresser for $20 from one of my Mom's old neighbors when they were having a yard sale. The wood was shot so I painted it this color 'sea glass'. The color yellow in her room is perfect, it looks so nice and welcoming when the sun comes through the windows. At first I had Toby paint the room a pale green but it was too minty and cold looking, all I could think was mint chocolate chip ice cream, so he generously repainted it. To this day Toby's Mom will stay comment about how she liked the green color. She also likes to drop weighty hints about how she thinks I border would look nice in that room. Yep, that won't be happening any time soon. The cross stitch sample is the one Toby's Aunt Sharon made that I wrote about earlier. And I love the cute little mermaid print that I got off of etsy from this wonderful artist named Carla Sonheim. The rabbit book ends I'm already having anxiety about because they're really heavy and I can see Oona trying to climb the dresser to get the stuffies on the shelf and both rabbits sliding off the dresser and clocking her in the head - my mind exhausts me. There's also a little ceramic duck next to the books that I love. It was my Grandmother's or Great Grandmother's and it says personality duck in painted script on the bottom of the figurine. Personality plus that thing is so twee!

Yeah, the curtains are short but we already had them from Owen's old bedroom so in the immortal words of Tim Gunn I'm trying to 'make it work.' The rocker is from another Great Grandmother. My middle name Rose is after her, although everyone called her Mimi for some reason so who knows maybe that would have been a better middle name. The rocker has a stamp burned into it with the date 1857. If Antiques Roadshow ever stops in Pittsburgh I might have to check out the price on that thing.

The last two pictures show this painting that I loved (seriously, check out the website they have adorable stuff for children) and it matches the room really well. It needed to be placed real high so Oona can't get it, and the munchkin herself right before a nap. Now what made me think this would be quicker than doing one of my 'regular' posts?

fyi

For all those inquiring about how my mri results were here's a shot of my brain.
In all seriousness though, thanks for thinking about me. The results were normal. All that for nothing! But I'd rather they hadn't found something. Have a great weekend everyone!

way of the chinese ant

So Toby and I decided that it would be a good thing for Owen to participate in some sort of athletic endeavor because Toby never did that as a kid and he felt that he suffered as a result. We both thought karate would be a good idea because of the discipline and I’d prefer he wasn’t doing football or some sport where the parents get crazy competitive and where his self esteem might flounder instead of getting bolstered. Owen started taking karate in January and has been going 2 to 3 evenings each week, which with Toby in class two nights a week as well, makes for a stressful dinner time, although it doesn’t take all that much to totally stress me out when it comes to making dinner. We started Owen in a karate school that is very inexpensive, some of these places can be outrageous in terms of signing children up for 4 year contracts, we just figured we’d start him in a cheap place and if he really likes karate we can always switch him to another place later if need be. Even though the place he goes to is cheap and it’s in a tiny room Toby and I both like the teacher a lot. He’s very good with all the children and I respect his whole philosophy about karate, which he talks about on his website. Toby’s usually the one who takes Owen there while I stay home with Oona and make dinner but Monday I went with Owen because I wanted to see how he was doing. First off when I say this place is tiny I am in no way exaggerating, he used to be in a larger space but there was a fire in the building so lessons are taught in this temporary space which can fit 6 chairs and a door width-wise, all the chairs were taken when I got there so I just sat on the floor. Before class starts the kids usually run around like crazy for five minutes and Owen kept trying to wrestle with this one solidly built boy with a mohawk, who’s an orange belt. Owen is a waif, his rib cage is perfectly visible on his little chest, every darn rib. You can see his hipbones protrude through his back, I worry about how thin he is but Toby’s Mom insists Toby was just like that growing up so I shouldn’t be concerned. So Owen continues to run after mohawk boy and play wrestle with him and I’m sitting on my hands, biting my tongue, doing everything possible to stop from shouting at Owen to not do that, it’s so hard knowing when to let kids just work things out on their own. Mohawk boy then delivers a strong kick to Owen’s tummy and I’m ready to leap up him and deliver a kick of my own, but I hold back since Owen provoked things running after and trying to wrestle with a kid much stronger than him. Owen seems fine, I exhale and class starts. The children go through various maneuvers kicking and hyahing the length of the room then running back to the other end. Mohawk boy is getting admonished a lot because he doesn’t pay attention, talks or is draping himself along the wall. At one point when the newer white belt students are waiting for the older yellow & orange belt students to run back to place Mohawk boy kick a tiny (ten pounds and so many inches smaller than Owen) girl square in the chest. The teacher doesn’t notice this but his Mother does who makes some ineffectual yelp to which Mohawk boy whines, ‘but she kicked me first.’ I’m now wondering if maybe it’s better that I don’t come to karate because I don’t want to see this kind of crap going on. The teacher lays out a mat, foam log and another mat for the children to do a somersault and then a running front or side kick over. Owen does the somersault, you’d think his spine was fused but it looks like the somersault is tough for most of the kids, he runs to the foam log and then suddenly stops like a spooked horse he looks at me then lifts his legs up to hop over the log. Parents start laughing and I don’t know what to do. It’s funny but I don’t want to make him feel bad, so when he runs back I just shake my head and chuckle. They go through three more passes like this and his stops at the log every time. The teacher tries to talk to him and help him make the running kick over the log but when he holds onto the back of Owen’s uniform he winds up lifting him up over the log like Mary Poppins. The parents keep laughing and I’m trying to give Owen encouraging looks and nods of the head, it isn’t the end all be all but now I’m wondering why he’s insisting on not jumping over the log. Poor Owen. During class he makes very fierce faces and does a wonderful kiai with every move but he can’t do the kicks all that well, his feet barely get off the floor. The teacher says there will be a big difference once he’s five, his coordination will improve, it surely couldn’t get worse. But he’s enjoying himself and that’s all I want. The girls in the class kick ass! They’re all so focused and do such perfect little kicks, I want to cheer for them. As class winds down with the teacher saying ‘What type of martial arts do we do?’ to which the children reply ‘Tang Soo Do.’ The teacher asks ‘What does Tang Soo Do mean?’ to which they say ‘Way of the Chinese ant.’ Or at least that’s what I thought they said. It seemed so cute, I mean wasn’t David Carradine called Grasshopper in Kung Fu and I figured maybe the martial arts are trying to practice humility and quiet strength so ‘way of the Chinese ant’ made sense to me and I start thinking how Owen’s sort of like Flick in A Bug’s Life, kind hearted and enthusiastic but bumbling at times, yet it will all come together and gel in the end for him. It was only when I looked up the spelling of Tang Soo Do on wikipedia that I saw the children were either saying ‘way of the china hand’ or ‘way of the empty hand’ - whoops.

hair raising experience

Okay, so it might be a little bit hard to see Oona's hair sticking straight up because her hair is so fine. But I thought the picture would best capture my experience this past Saturday. I survived my MRI! And thank God that that procedure is over with. I took one of the valium pills an hour before the procedure, like my doctor advised me to, but as soon as they put all these contraptions on my head and chest and slid me into the MRI machine I started crying. This makes me think my anxiety is at such a fever pitch level my body can metabolize anti-anxiety pills in seconds, I probably would need a horse tranquilizer in order calm me. The main problem was that I didn't close my eyes before being slid in and they put you in this tube and all I could see was the top of the tube that looked to be about two inches away from my face, I never thought of myself as claustrophobic but I instantly flipped out. Fortunately the two people administering the test were very, very nice. They pulled me out right away so I could calm down. I kept apologizing for crying between sobs and they were like 'don't worry a lot of people get freaked out by this machine.' They said that they could put an angled mirror on the contraption they had surrounding my head so I could look out of the tube but the mirror was tiny and I just figured it would be easiest to keep my eyes closed. One man stayed in the room with me for the whole procedure patting my head (it was stuck in the tube but he was able to reach the top of my head inside the tube and not disrupt the test) when they did my spine and then patting my leg when the did my brain MRI so I wouldn't feel alone. I wanted to hug him for offering to do that for me, I was so thankful. But I also felt so bad about my behavior, like I was such a baby. The man who stayed in the room with me asked how old I was while I was stuck in the machine waiting for the procedure to start. I told him 38 and I almost felt like I should apologize for being that old and being so scared, like it would be more acceptable if I was 20 and freaked out like that. Aghh!!! I hope to never need one of those again because the whole thing was flipping torture for me. I know the creators got a Nobel prize for that machine and it's invaluable with diagnosing certain medical conditions but having your top half trapped in a tube with all these really loud noises (the decibel level equals a jet plane taking off but they do give you earplugs to somewhat mute the sound) going on a random times is unsettling to say the least. At one point my elbow started heating up and I asked the man about it during a brief quiet time between tests he told me, 'let's just say that's normal' Oh, and you have to lie perfectly still for close to an hour and a half. My butt was feeling surprisingly bony and sore by the end and I had to pee fifteen minutes into the test. The whole procedure really tests your ability to tune things out. My suggestion for anyone that ever has to get an MRI, keep your eyes closed! I just tried to convince myself that I was listening to some sort of instrumental performance art piece and then I'd start thinking about Magneto from X-men, my husband's influence, which paradoxically calmed me.

d'oh

I somehow forgot to mention in my previous post that while returning for one of my many walks to the Rite Aid there were three teenage boys hanging out in front of the bodega who threw a snowball across the street at me. I turned around to find them smiling and just sorta shook my hat covered head and kept on walking through the snow. And they kept throwing snowballs at me! I don't know if the distance made them think I was younger than I am, maybe they don't expect middle aged women to wear baggy corduroys, snowboard jackets (I've yet to get a new winter coat!) and bomber hats. I felt like shouting at them 'what are you doing, I'm pushing forty?!' but then thought better of it. Do I really want to shout that truth out loud and worse, what if that did nothing to deter the snowballs?

In other news Oona and I are both on augmentin for our ear & sinus infections, let's hope the river of green mucus in the house dries up quick. Oh, and lucky me, I get to go for a brain/cervical spine MRI tomorrow morning which has me completely terrified, not of what they might find on the test but that someone might accidentally leave a metal canister in the room and then my head will be mush once the machine is turned on. Keep your fingers crossed that I have no stray metal fragments in my eyes and that I don't have some metallic device implanted in me that I'm completely unaware of. I had to answer a bunch of questions today and the woman said to alert the attendant if my tattoo starts to heat up, since some inks contain metal in them. Oh joy. So my top half will be enclosed in this machine for an hour to an hour and a half. Thank God, my Dr gave me a scrip for two valium pills to hope me cope with this claustrophobic experience. The only thing I'm looking forward to out of this whole experience is getting to see pictures of my brain, so curious to see what it looks like and make sure everything is there that should be.

after the massacre

I hope that everyone had an enjoyable Valentine's Day even though it was a snowy, icy mess. Owen made it to school today, after two days off and a two hour delay due to wind chill. Oh, and we finally unearthed the car from it's ice covered, snowy blanket. Just in time to take Oona back to the doctor because she still isn't well and her antibiotics don't seem to be making a dent in her river of green mucus and ear pain, poor little thing. Here are some pictures I took during my walks up to the mall (aka the RIte Aid three blocks up the street from me) where I got provisions, milk & bread for french toast. I had to go to the rather questionable bodega just up the street from me for eggs. When I came back and Toby heard where I got the eggs he shook his head, 'they're probably platypus eggs.' The owners of the bodega are really nice and I'm sure they probably live in Squirrel Hill, the tony part of Pittsburgh, and laugh all the way to the bank, selling my neighborhood enough cigarettes and lottery tickets to keep them unhealthy and broke. I avoid the bodega because it's filthy, unsavory individuals loiter on the corner no matter how cold it is and I purchased a ketchup there, when we first moved to the area, that was well past its expiration date. But I had promised Owen french toast that morning so I took a chance, salmonella be damned, and bought the possibly, platypus eggs. The french toast was a tasty success, although we still have a 48 hour window for salmonella, but I'm pretty sure we'll be okay.

our 3rd floor

We're in the middle of our first winter storm here, snow is falling thick and steady and Owen is home from school for the day. I think he'll probably have tomorrow off too if we get as much as they're predicting (5 - 8"), so it looks like it will be another week of cabin fever. Before we get started on our valetine cookies I thought I'd show off pictures of our third floor which is finally done. The third floor used to be an unheated art studio where the former owner made her lint sculptures ( a unique and sustainable medium, at least she's putting that stuff to use). That whole floor was a disaster, I wish I had taken pictures to document how bad it was but all I've got is photos of it now that it's done over. Toby put in new windows, installed heating, skim coated the old plaster walls (and one room was quite a challenge because there were purple, texture paint scrawls all over the place). He really outdid himself, yeah Toby!

This is Toby's study. He wanted an orange study, which he insisted we could share but I'd never be able to color correct photos in that room because the walls are too bright and he deserves his own space to tinker in. It turned out really nice although he was laughing at me this weekend because he could see the consternation I experienced when seeing how he set up the bookcases in his room. It's not the way I would have done things, but it's not my room. Hello my name is Kim. I'm a control freak and can admit I have a problem. There that was easy. I got him the two photos on the far bookcase for Christmas, I think they'll look great in the room.

Here is the guest bedroom. All that's missing is you! Come visit us in the Steel City, we're right near the zoo and they just got polar bears. This is also going to be my study where I'll do my computer work, the walls are neutral so I shouldn't have a problem with color correction in here. I also hope to set up an area for me to do my crafts and an area where Oona can play if I need to be up here working. We still have a bunch of junk that we need to get rid of but things are coming along.

The hallway up to the third floor. It's pretty plain vanilla but this isn't the house where we're going to spend the rest of our life. I hope that we can move to a different part of the city in a few years. Unfortunately, our neighborhood is rather insular (i.e. racist) and it sort of has a Larry Clark vibe to it, like if the kids from 'Kids' decided to move to Pittsburgh they would move to my neighborhood. I know, doesn't that make you just want to race right out to visit us?! Our neighborhood seems like it's on the fence, there are young couples with families are moving in and trying to improve the things, but then we have our trashy contingent moving in and, uh, blighting the neighborhood. Hopefully things will swing towards the positive, Toby's put so much work into the house and I'd hope we could make a modest profit for all he's done.

catching up

Toby's getting Oona started on the Xbox young. Look at her go! She'll be the first professional, toddler gamer. Seriously though, Oona doesn't play but loves to watch her Dad and brother play together and can sometimes be a wildcard factor in the game, if she suddenly toddles over and turns the TV off or ejects the game disc. I find it sort of weird that some women I know when hearing Toby has an Xbox roll their eyes and say they'd never let their husband's have that. It seems rather icky and pretty controlling in my opinion, I mean it's not like Toby begrudges my interest in celebrity fodder or trashy magazines. Toby works his tail off with work, school and doing stuff around the house so why shouldn't he cut loose playing video games if that's what he enjoys. And I don't have a problem with him playing Xbox games with Owen, they have fun and it's not like they do it every day for hours on end. I guess Moms like that tend to make me bristle. And Moms who don't let their children watch any TV. God bless the TV! My house would never be clean and I could never make a meal, clean the dishes or, for that matter, go to the bathroom by myself without the TV. It just seems very judgmental. Women can be so inherently bitchy and judgmental to begin with but parenting sends it into the stratosphere. And I know there are good reasons behind this bad feeling, wanting to protect your children, the awesome responsibility of positively shaping a human being. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a pretty judgmental Mom myself, but I'm able to pull back and realize that it gets me nowhere, all it does is make me feel unreasonably slighted, angry and mad. Of course I totally support healthy kvetching and gossip from time to time as long as it isn't malicious or, um, like people issuing forth a parenting manifesto that their way is the right way, if that makes any sense. I'll hop off my sopabox now.

This past weekend was very busy for us. Toby's parents came out and watched the kids so we were able to go out to dinner for our anniversary. We haven't been out without the kids since July, when we went to a friend's wedding, so it was a very welcome change to eat a meal at a leisurely pace and not have to bring toys along or an abundance of baby wipes. We really need to try and get out more regularly it's just difficult since good babysitting help (aka Toby's Mom who lives 3 hours away) is hard to come by. I need to ease up on my worrying with Oona, it's always so hard for me to leave kids under three with someone else. It's especially hard with Oona since she seems hellbent on hitting her head whenever possible. I mean our living room is pretty well baby proofed, no coffee table or end tables with sharp corners but in the past week Oona has whacked her head on the built in bookcase shelf and a baseboard corner between the living room and dining room, which I have no idea how she managed to do since there's a chair blocking off that corner. With every bump on her head she's shortening my life I swear.

Toby's Mom also brought out some Christmas gifts for us from Toby's Aunt Sharon. Now Toby's Aunt Sharon is a really nice lady but she's slightly screwy. She'll give you gifts that you could swear were lying around her house gathering dust, because you'll unwrap them and there will be dust or cobwebs on them. She also makes crafts, she made Oona a beautiful birth announcement cross stitch but then she put it in this old metal frame that wound up getting rust on the cross stitch. So this year she made us a terry cloth pouch to stick our soap in, I guess some sort of built in washcloth soap combo which I don't think I'll use because then the soap couldn't dry after using and I'd think that would be a huge bacteria magnet. She also made us a pot holder but it's out of this really flimsy material and I'd think it would be the equivalent of using your shirt as a potholder, not a good idea unless you want to burn yourself. And, yes, there is a meat stain on the potholder too, so it has been used before. Owen liked it though, he always loves the bad presents we get. So he put it on and I said he could be a new Marvel superhero 'the claw'

i hate my floors

We have hardwood floors on our first floor and in the hallway of the second floor. When we were first looking at houses all the realtors would push the amenity factor of having hardwood floors and since this was the first house we bought we visually glossed over a lot of things thinking the house was in move in condition. Well, once we moved in we realized that wasn't really the case. Fortunately Toby has proved himself to be an excellent Bob Villa. He replaced all our windows, put in a new front door with sidelights, has redone the third floor (installed heating) and the second floor bedrooms. Now all that's needed to be done is our bathroom, the kitchen and our floors. The floors kill me. They are my personal top pet peeve with this house since I seem to vacuum, sweep or mop them every day and they always look horrible. I'm at the point where I think they'd look best with peanut shells on them but I don't want to invite vermin into our house. Toby doesn't think it's worth the investment to refinish them. When I got quotes on refinishing the floors the person I trusted the most said we'd have to get whole new flooring in the dining room because the wood is so badly warped, but we could salvage some of the smooth planks to replace other damaged pieces in the other rooms that would be refinished. The dining room floor is particularly awful, Toby's brother got his sock stuck on an especially warped and cracking plank. The trustworthy floor refinisher said that if he sands the floor the pieces will pop right out, since they're tongue & groove oak planks and I think that strengthened Toby's belief that the floor isn't worth it. I'd love to spend the money on restoring them because they're a light oak that I think they would look so beautiful refinished, it would lighten up all the rooms, which would add to our home's appeal when it comes time to sell. Plus if we refinish the floors I won't have to spend anymore time bent over using the hose attachment of the vacuum to suck out all the crap that finds its way between the planks. But I can understand Toby's viewpoint, at this point I'm ready to tear the floors out and replace them with Pergo, sustainability be damned, anything in order to get a smooth, easily cleaned surface. Don't you feel for me with these floors? You haven't even seen the section where someone drilled a half dozen screws into the planks.

weltschmerz

This word seems perfect for a blustery February post since I could swear I suffer from SAD (such a crazily appropriate acronym) and by this point in the season any optimism I might possess has been choked out of me. Although I can muster up enough enthusiasm to talk about spelling. Did anyone happen to watch the National Spelling Bee when it was on TV last year? It was amazing. The kids were so cute and when they would spell the news sprawl on the screen below them would give you info on each kid, like how one boy liked to collect rocks and was in math club. It was just so 'aw' inducing. Well, this adorable, Canadian girl wound up runner up in the Bee when she misspelled weltschmerz, which I'm sure caused her much weltschmerz.

Okay, that word is really hard to type correctly, much less spell. Bring on the sturm und drang! Seriously though, this week has been so hard and it's not even over yet. The severe cold weather here caused Owen's pre-k to be closed Monday & Tuesday with a two hour delayed opening yesterday. Apparently it got so cold they were having trouble starting the school buses because the gasoline had gelled. So I have my huge freelance assignment, Owen's home 2 1/2 days and Oona's sick. I took her to the doctor Monday morning, because I was concerned she was getting an ear infection and the Dr., not her usual pediatrician but one of the partners in the practice that was covering 'acute care visit hour' that day, dismissively told me she was fine. Well the next day she slept most of the day, wouldn't eat and by dinner her temp was 102.8. So I bring her in Wednesday morning and Dr. O- tells me she has infections in both ears and writes out the scrip for Amoxicillin. I love Owen & Oona's pediatrician. She's intelligent, no nonsense, amazing with my kids, she listens and will answer any questions I have AND doesn't act patronizing or dismissive with any of my concerns. But from now on I just have to realize that I can't deal with any of the other doctors in the practice and only go in when Dr. O- is available. I'm fortunate that Dr. O is a wonderful pediatrician and that the triage phone nurse, Cindy, is excellent but the rest of the doctors in that practice blow in my opinion.

Fortunately, I got an email late last night that I don't have to have my freelance assignment done by March 1st. They've yet to even shoot everything so I was told to just send it off in batches when I get the images done, the way I usually do - big phew there. Owen has tomorrow off too. It's like God is trying to show me just how miserable I would be if I ever decided to home school my children and, believe me, I realize I'm not the type of Mom that could handle or want to do that. So, needless to say, with Owen off so much and Oona feverish with runny green nose and eye goop - I haven't been to the gym at all this week. From 6 days a week to 0 in under a month, but it's not like I haven't wanted to go, I just can't in good conscience bring Oona to the gym babysitters being so sick. I haven't even bothered to dress Oona all week, I just keep her in a fresh pair of pj's because I figure that's more comfy when you're not feeling well, I'd love to go around town in a pair of fleece footie pyjamas all week. And now I'm getting Oona's cold, which will devolve into a sinus infection for lucky me.

beautiful music

First things first, I'm compelled to write in a huge disclaimer that the unattractive fleece v-neck I'm wearing is Toby's and I wear it all the time because 1. our house is old and quite drafty and we also keep the heat down low 2. it's too small for Toby to wear comfortably. And, my God, could I possibly look more tired and washed out? Now that I've gotten that off my chest, notice that tiny little square of silver between my fingers? It is the combo valentine's & anniversary gift that Toby got me. An ipod shuffle, designed with a clip so I won't leave it at the gym! Yes, Toby did read that infamous post of me forgetting my ipod at the gym, but he wasn't mad and actually had already gotten this for me - how serendipitous! I got the gift early because Toby was convinced I had snooped it out, I hadn't but I did correctly guess what it was two days ago when there was a huge ad from Apple in my email about the shuffle. It can hold 240 songs and I'm already making a gym worthy playlist of peppy tunes (where else can you find Eminem and Morrissey?!) to keep me motivated on the ellilptical. Let me tell you when I do reverse mode on the elliptical it can take an awful lot to keep me motivated, that is quite a workout on your glutes, dreaded saddlebag area.Toby told me to look at the back of the ipod to see what it said and I was like 'it says ipod' not noticing the tiny type on top, you can't read it in the picture, but Toby had the lil ipod inscribed. It says 'Kim we make beautiful music together' - isn't that so sweet? Now if only this thing could keep Oona from having breakdowns in the babysitting area (three in the past week! please let it be a short lived phase) I could actually get a good work out in. Yeah, and maybe I'll drop 15 pounds in a month, a girl can dream.