Eeyore.

Today kinda stunk. Not that I could smell anything, because my whole head was clogged beyond belief. 

My nose was stuffy, my ears were throbbing, my throat was hurting, work was depressing (more cut-backs), a man in a green Mustang almost ran me over and then called me the worst names he could think of in front of all of downtown Chicago, and the weather was just plain pitiful.

But I got to go home to this quirky little nugget and attack her with kisses:

And that made it all better.

P.S. Aunt M called my parents last night. She made it to the orphanage in Honduras safely, and has begun her work there. I'll post an update as soon as I hear from her.

Godspeed Aunt M

Aunt M should be landing at Tegucigalpa Airport in Honduras in about twenty minutes. She will be spending a week and a half at an orphanage, providing physical therapy to the residents, which I'm sure will be an awesome experience. 

The thing I'm worried most about is the landing at the Honduras airport. The pilots have to be specially trained to land at this particular airport. Minutes before landing, the plane has to come between mountains into a valley, perform a very quick 45-degree bank to the left, and then glide down the mountain a few feet above the ground, landing PERFECTLY on a runway that's not much longer than an aircraft carrier.

This runway is listed as #7 in the top-10 scariest runways in the world.

May God be with Aunt M.

Hopefully Aunt M will be guest-posting about her trip on my blog, so stay tuned!

Surgery

At 6:00 yesterday morning, my mom and I rode the bus down to the Ambulatory Surgery Center at Northwestern Memorial, so that a very chipper Otolaryngologist could perform a Septoplasty on me and open the passages to each of my sinus cavities.

The procedure took about 2 1/2 hours, and there was a lot of pressure and blood when I woke up ... But, I can already tell that there will be a big difference. And I've never met such a nice group of doctors and nurses. They all had great smiles and gentle voices, and I felt that I was in very good hands.

When I got back home, I immediately crashed. When I woke up, my mom had brought La back from school. La tends to be very squeamish with doctors/hospitals/blood, so she would have nothing to do with me. My mom asked her if she could go give me a hug, and she said "NO WAY" and went to her room and shut the door. After about an hour, she came out and asked me if I was still the same mama as before. I assured her that it was still me and that I really wasn't hurting too bad.

It still took a whole other hour for her to muster up the courage to hug me.

Here's what I will look like for the next couple days:

I know what you're thinking ... HOT.

Miss Walker, I Presume?

La (sporting a hairdo that she made me replicate from the Thumbelina DVD cover) and Miss Addy Walker herself.

La got to bring Addy Walker to school today for Show And Tell.

Did I tell you guys that she finally got Addy Walker? A whole year before I said she could? 

Our friend Kevin thought she needed the doll, so he brought it over for La's birthday. It was very sweet of him. And he's unknowingly created a COMPLETE MONSTER.

A few phrases La has spoken 

since Addy came into our lives:

"Mom. I'm telling you that she's real. I'm not kidding you."

On our way up the stairs after being away at school/work: "Don't worry Addy! Mommy's coming!"

"No mom, we can't go to school yet. We have to give Addy her breakfast and make her hair look like EXACTLY LIKE Cinderella's."

"Do you know that I am Addy's mother? I really am. It's not pretend. She grew in my tummy and then the doctor took her out."

"Mom, are you SO EXCITED that you're a grandmother?"

-------------------------------------------------

My own mother has told me that the whole reason you have kids is to have grandchildren. I didn't realize I would be reaping the benefits this soon.

Big Stuff.

Yesterday was "hat day" at La's school. We went all the way and completed the Little Chef look with one of my white button-downs and black leggings. CUTE.

Yesterday was also the day that Aunt M victoriously crammed our car (using the patented technique of Austin Powers himself) into the smallest parking spot IN THE WORLD.

What a day!

She's either an overachieveror just plain nuts

Today was La's first day of swim lessons, and it was ... hmm ... well, let's just say it wasn't a complete disaster.

Aunt M dropped us off at the fitness center about 20 minutes before her class was to begin, and La was geared up and raring to go. Her class didn't start until 2:30 in the afternoon, and I made the mistake of telling her at 9:30 this morning that today would be her first day of swim lessons. Between the hours of 9:31 a.m. and noon, she asked me if we can please please please leave for swimming class RIGHT NOW no less than 89 times. At noon I threatened to not let her go to class at all if she asked me one more time. That's when she resorted to tapping me on the shoulder and arching her eyebrows up and down suggestively until I told her how many more minutes till we would leave.

In short, she has been waiting her entire life for this very day.

Upon arrival to the Blessed Haven O' Swim, La and I proceeded to the locker room to change her into her suit. After suiting up, I led her over to the pool entrance. As I opened the door to the aquatic area, La's excitement began to transform into apprehension and then quickly morphed into sheer panic. 

I grabbed her hand and started walking out to the pool area, and she planted her feet firmly against my momentum and yelled, "NO NO NO NO NO! I'M NOT GOING IN THAT POOOOOOOL!" 

Scene #1 for the day? Check.

Thank goodness we were 20 minutes early.

I sat down on a bench with her and cradled my five-year-old like a newborn, soothing her with whispered words about how fun swimming lessons will be and how cool this pool is, being sure to keep her body turned away from the current lesson taking place, where the children were being asked to please place their FACES in the water. The horror! My encouraging words worked and after 10 minutes on that bench, she was ready to jump right in.

La was the smallest of the five kids in her class, and the pool was a bit deep for her peanut-sized bod (four whole feet to be exact). She couldn't touch the bottom at all. Because of the depth of the water, the instructor had the five of them stand on a portable platform that was sunk below the surface and pushed up against the edge of the pool. As they stood there, with their backs to the parents and their heads sticking up just above the edge of the pool, it was apparent that my child's head is beyond puny. Hers looked to be about half the size of the other four kids' whopping melons. I'm guessing her head circumference is still teetering around the tenth percentile, but I don't think they measure that anymore. 

The very first exercise they did was one that involved slowly projecting themselves up as far out of the water as possible and then landing back down in a calm and relaxed manner, being sure to submerge the shoulders on each downward cycle. They were to do this eight times, counting out loud as they jumped. During this exercise, La was careful to project her little pinhead upward as high as she could and then bring her shoulders underneath the water after each jump. But instead of eight sets in the given amount of time, she did nineteen. I counted. She was bouncing up and down like a crazy little jackrabbit, creating waves that would put my dad's Alumacraft to shame.

Way to follow the directions, La.

After they did all their "group" exercises, the instructor went down the line and took each one out into the open water individually, practicing a different skill each time (front crawl, back stroke, kicking, etc), thus leaving four other students behind. The teacher was never more than 10 feet from the rest of the group, but it was during these moments that La would happen to fall off the platform. And I would have to run over to her, lean half of my body shakily over the pool water, and hoist her back onto the contraption. 

She did this four times.

Each time this happened, a shock of adrenaline rushed through me like a lightning bolt. The good thing was that her face never actually went under water when she would fall off the platform. She would keep herself afloat by frantically doggy-paddling, with her eyes, nose and mouth just out of the water until I reached her. Which means, of course, that technically SHE CAN SWIM. We're just doing the classes to perfect her technique. Or something.

When class was over, I scolded her in the locker room for her inability to EVER STAND STILL. I reminded her of how dangerous it is to "accidentally" jump off of the life-sustaining platform that her swim instructor so graciously provided her. Then she looked at me and said, "Mom, I promise I will not do that next time. I pinky swear." And she held out her little finger to seal the pact. And I took her pinky in mine, knowing fully well that she is FULL OF IT and that I will be fishing her out of that pool again next Sunday.

And then I high-fived her for so clearly being the best swimmer in the class, despite her drastic head-size disadvantage.

The "Cutting with Scissors" portion of her pre-school curriculum is well under way

The brilliant piece of artwork you see below was waiting in La's cubby for me when I picked her up from school today. According to La, this is my Mother's Day present:

I have one question for La. Who in the world is that man?

Easter!

One of the best things about living in Chicago is being close to our relatives in Milwaukee and being able to visit them whenever we want. So we drove up there on Saturday, met Aunt Kathleen for some incredible croque monsieurs (I eat meat during the holidays ... and whenever I'm confronted with any French food. Or bacon.) and then shopped around in Cedarburg.

We stayed at Kathleen and Joe's place, and when we got there, La gave Uncle Joe the biggest hug I've ever seen. She REALLY LIKES Uncle Joe. We got to drink some fantastic wine and eat delicious food, made from recipes that Kathleen learned when she was in France. (Specifically, Chicken Fricassee and Cream of Asparagus Soup topped with a Puff Pastry ... to DIE for) Then we sauntered off to the Theater Room for a little bedtime movie.

It was a very pleasant Saturday evening.

On Easter Sunday, in honor of the Moore Family Tradition, we went to The Domes. My mom and her five siblings grew up going to The Domes each Easter Sunday, and the tradition carried over to my own childhood whenever we were in Milwaukee for Easter. Our family photo albums have plenty of photos of me (and Molly ... but not Aaron for some reason ... maybe we haven't been there since '86) sitting on a bench inside The Domes, wearing a goofy Easter hat. So I made sure I got a good one of La on a bench inside The Domes, sans goofy Easter hat (see above).

And then she started posing in front of the waterfall:

I love the photo below because it looks like she's tiptoeing through a secret garden in search of her handsome prince who is patiently waiting to whisk her off on his glistening white unicorn.

I have one thing to say about The Domes, and that is that they were MUCH BIGGER when I was a child. I think they shrunk.

When The Trip Down Memory Lane was complete, we headed over to Grandma Lois's and Grandpa Duane's for a gigantic Moore-sized get-together.

We got to hang out with some of our favorite people, including Uncle John and his awesome girlfriend, Molly #2. Her real name is Monica, but she goes by Molly ... and as you know, we already have a Molly, thus the #2 suffix. Anywho. She's oh so cool and fabulously quirky and just plain fun to be around. 

And she makes killer relish trays.

I'm not kidding you. I've never seen anyone take a dumb old relish tray and jazz it up quite like Molly #2. The one she brought to Easter was complete with Gorgonzola stuffed olives, Goat Cheese stuffed peppers, and Pickle & Olive Crucifixes.

Yes, the item Molly #2 is holding is intended to be a crucifix. We all misunderstood and thought she had her "mind in the gutter" when she was making the relish tray, but she quickly cleared that up. And yes, there are ice cubes her Miller Light. That's how they do it in Wisconsin.

They also call drinking fountains "bubblers" and ATM's "time machines" and go to Fish Frys every Friday and eat cheese at every meal. And they make religious symbols out of pickled veggies.

Just don't ask.

Slowly Brainwashing Her With Questionable Music

My Nose is Stuffy. Whaaa.

I am currently suffering from a MEAN sinusitis attack. I get these multiple times a year, and it ain't pretty. I am sitting here reflecting on whether it would be a good idea or not to stick a sewing needle into my left cheek to relieve some of the hellish pressure. 

Considering my current "not-breathing-through-nose-and-head-is-caving-in" condition, and feeling rather motivated by it, I finally made the call to schedule my sinus surgery. (I already have to change the date because I neglected to remember that my sister will be in Honduras that week, and my mom can't come into town. And I need one of them to be here when I go UNDER THE KNIFE) The plan is to have it done sometime in the next few weeks.

My mom wants to be here when they do this procedure, thank goodness. I wasn't too worried about the whole thing, until I told her that I would be going back to work the day after the surgery. 

She laughed at me and I think she told me I was crazy. Then she was like, "What do you think you're going to do? Ride the BUS in that condition? Are you TRYING to scare those poor people?" 

Apparently there will be a sufficient amount of facial bruising. Oh, and pain. And some drainage. And lots of bandages on my head. Oh, and there's a chance my eyeballs will bleed.

So, I decided it would be a good time to look through the packet of materials I received from the doctor over a month ago. It says, "Bruising and swelling are normal, and should go down within two weeks of the procedure." Um, TWO WEEKS? The pamphlet went on, "Expect to miss a minimum of 5 work days." 

No. Not possible.

I'm figuring (and hoping desperately) that, for me, this surgery will not cause swelling or pain. I am basing this on my experience with my wisdom teeth. When I had those puppies yanked, two of them were impacted and I was told to expect significant swelling and pain afterward and wouldn't be able to eat solid foods for days. 

I had no swelling or pain whatsoever, and I even hit up Taco Bell on the way home from the tooth extraction. I'm hoping to have the same experience with this little procedure. Complete with the T-bell run.

In the midst of all this positive thinking, I googled "sinus surgery" and a slew of images like this came up. Those pictures really did a lot for my courage.

Right now, I'm not too worried ... But, if it does come down to me being wigged out before the surgery, I'll just close my eyes and tell myself that my doctor is one of the best in the nation, and that he surely won't slip on a banana peel, fall onto my head, and inadvertently jam that metal stick into my brain (and we wonder why La has such an imagination). If all else fails, I'll just remind myself that Jennifer Aniston does this all the time.

CAN'T. STOP. MOVING.

La has never been able to be still. I can't think of a single time in her life when she has sat motionless for more than one minute. EVEN IN HER SLEEP. The child is entirely incapable of sitting still. 

I noticed this characteristic of La a few days after she was born, while we were still staying with my parents. It was the afternoon, and she had been down for a nap. I walked to the crib to stare at my little newborn (which is what I spent most of my time doing back then) AND SHE WAS NOT WHERE I HAD PUT HER. 

One of the things those pregnancy books do not warn you about is how, after your child is born, you will experience recurring nightmares that the baby is missing from its crib. I cannot tell you how many times during our weeks at college I woke up in the middle of the night and frantically clawed at the Graco portable bassinet next to me to reassure myself that my child had not, in fact, disappeared. When this occurred, La would awake in an ENRAGED state due to the fresh scratch in her forehead that I had just given her, and would demand that I hop around the room with her in my arms, singing "You Are My Sunshine" until she fell back asleep.

So you can imagine my reaction when I discovered that my days-old baby REALLY WAS NOT WHERE I HAD PUT HER IN THE CRIB. I almost had a coronary. Then I scanned the rest of the crib, listening carefully for her heavy breathing noises, and discovered that she was wedged in the upper corner of the crib, nestled deep into the crib bumper, right next to a stuffed Pooh bear that was four times her size. 

It turns out, 10-day old infants CAN actually get around on their own. 

Although she may have a problem with staying still, I don't think she has A.D.D. or anything. She's entirely capable of focusing for very long periods of time. But, even when she's focusing, she's continuously moving some part of her body ... Aunt M (who does have a doctorate from Northwestern's Feinberg School of Medicine, so there's reason to believe what she says) has recently mentioned that she might be Hyperactive. As in Hyperactive DISORDER. 

EEK!

Aunt M has a theory as to why she wound up to be such a spaz. When she was born, she was wearing the umbilical cord like a boa. Except that the boa was not only around her neck —TWICE— but also looped once around her chest. Each time I had a contraction, the umbilical cord would be squeezed, her heart rate would drop, and that meant she was getting less oxygen to her brain.

Aunt M thinks La is hyperactive because she was twisted up in her cord. But, my opinion (and I must confess, I'm not a doctor, just a graphic designer) is that she was twisted up in her cord in the first place BECAUSE she was hyperactive and could not stay still in the womb. God just made her that way, okay???

Regardless of what caused her to be so fidgety, I have accepted that this is one of the traits that make La who she is. And I'm thankful for her constant movement, because it keeps me moving too.

I just wish she would cuddle with me for more than four nanoseconds.

Life in the FAST LANE ... sort of

Guess what? I got to go out Saturday night. It was a girls' night out, and it was a great time! ... while it lasted.

Can you guess which one is me?

 

... That's right. I'm the one with the crazed expression on my face that says, "HOLY TOLEDO I'm actually OUT IN PUBLIC at a BAR. With PEOPLE MY OWN AGE and I'm DRINKING A MARTINI and I CAN'T BELIEVE IT so I'm going to GRIN and GRIN and I might just EAT MY CAMERA. 

So, I only had a babysitter until 11:30 pm. In bar time, that's only 6:30 pm. We were literally the first and only people at Y Bar, and I already had to close out my tab and leave. BUT BY GOLLY, I GOT TO GO OUT.

Right after I left, my friend Poonam texted her basketball player friend (who she had met earlier that day, who plays for the New Jersey Nets or something). Apparently, he swung by and picked the three of them up in his STRETCH LIMOUSINE and drove them around while they all drank champagne. Then, they made a grand entrance at Underground, where Lindsay Lohan was supposed to show up (she didn't), ordered bottle service (read: VERY VERY RIDICULOUSLY EXPENSIVE). And then a bunch of the Chicago Bulls showed up. And the three girls lived it up and danced the night away without me.

But, I got to go home and cuddle with the sweetest little goblin on this side of the Mississippi.

And that was just fine too.

Chicago 2016

I think I need to invest in a mic stand.

La has a new obsession: Taylor Swift. She can't get enough of anything Taylor sings. Tonight, La serenaded Aunt M and I for a good half-hour. 

Here's a small outtake from her jam sesh:

Not everyone can sing AND play the guitar at the same time. The kid has skillz, let me tell ya.