Balloon Crew

We did something unprecedented last Saturday: we got out of the house. This time of year the sun just depresses me, so I tend to want to stay inside and pretend the weather outside is frightful. But Adam had the great idea to go do something we've been meaning to do for as long as we've lived here: take a ride in the city's big balloon.

What. Your city doesn't have a giant orange balloon just floating in the sky at any and all times of the year? You should feel cheated. (Actually I think it's kind of an eyesore, but fun nonetheless.)

Big Orange Balloon Factoids:

It's filled with helium, not hot air.

It's tethered to the ground with a single cable.

It takes guests 400 feet above the ground.

If the single cable breaks, it can float away as high as 8,500 feet into the air.

You have to sign a waiver to go up.

It's totally safe for kids of all ages.
Do you see a problem here?

Cue: Mama anxiety.

I had just planned on taking turns going up and keeping Sienna safely planted on the ground. But Adam felt totally fine about taking her up. Other kids were going up, other infants were going up, everyone said it was safe. So, I lost. And we took her up.

Funny thing happened, though. Adam and I switched places once the balloon was floating up, up and away and while I thoroughly enjoyed the free flying with Sienna strapped to my chest, he ended up gripping the sides, nearing a panic attack.

He did manage to take some cool pictures, though, like these:

Cursed be the blue skies around here. But aren't they just kind of pretty?

Some Thoughts About Stuff

*I want to be Gwyneth Paltrow. Always have. A couple Saturdays ago I watched the first disc in the Spain ... On the Road Again series after learning about it from my sister, Heather, who watched all of them before she visited Spain last summer. I watched it for no other reason than to see Gwyneth just being herself. She was all chill and wearing her simple, stylish clothes and having long, unkempt hair and just chowing down on everything. The entire show revolves around them eating, so it's hard to watch without visiting the fridge yourself multiple times. I watched it around 10 a.m. and wolfed down beef and potatoes and some cheese and chocolate bars to try and match their much more exquisite fare of lobster and oysters. It didn't satisfy, so that's the end of that series in my house. But watching Gwyneth always makes me feel like I look like her. After putting the show on pause and visiting the fridge yet again, I made a short stop in the bathroom to part my hair down the middle (nobody does the butt part as exquisitely as Gwyneth) to see if I, indeed, was able to mirror her look. Alas. I looked long-faced and drab. Maybe that's why she's a movie star and I'm not. She just glows. And that style! The effortless style. Any camera angle suits her perfectly. Anyway, big, big fan of Gwyneth. I also have finally mastered the spelling of her name. Makes me proud.

*After attending a funeral last week of a neighbor, I had an epiphany. We need to live closer to family. I've never wanted to live close to family mostly because the places I've wanted to live don't happen to be by family. Maybe it's weird to want to choose a place over people, but I've always just wanted to pick a spot on a map and live there, regardless of who else was going to be there. Well, no more of that nilly willy living. The Bird needs to know from whence she came; she needs to know her cousins and her aunts and uncles and grandparents and great grandparents. But it's not only for her sake. It's for my sake. I don't want to just know my family and in-laws through Facebook and blogging and emailing and phone calls and telepathy. I want them to come to my funeral and be able to say, "We knew her. We knew the good, the bad and the ugly." Maybe that's an announcement. Family! I'm coming home! (In about 5 years.) (And not to Roosevelt. Sorry. You already knew that though.)

*I constantly have this inner dialogue going on in my head about this whole "equality" movement. Is this really the direction we should be moving? Equal everything for men and women? And what do you think of the idea of home, family, work responsibilities split right down the middle, 50/50? I saw a story about a couple trying to do just that. It seemed so much more complicated. I don't know, maybe I just like things simple and don't mind my lot of the labor in family life. Anyway, I'm not really going anywhere with this except to this quote I saw that still sends chills down my spine when I think of it (especially the last part starting with, "In my time as ...") (from this op-ed in the NY Times written by the former editor (a woman) of Portfolio magazine in response to the Shriver Report):

This isn’t simply a woman’s issue; it affects us all. It isn’t about blaming men, or about embracing feminism, which remains a toxic term for some women. Instead, it is up to all of us to help change the conversation.

How do we get to there from here?

First, we can begin by telling girls to have confidence in themselves, to not always feel the need to be the passive “good girl.” In my time as an editor, many, many men have come through my door asking for a raise or demanding a promotion. Guess how many women have ever asked me for a promotion?

I’ll tell you. Exactly ... zero.

That last line! OOooohh! If you could have looked through my window the moment I read that line, you'd have seen my mouth forming a large O. Is the reason women are not paid equally (which I'm all for) because we are afraid to ask for it? I'm proud to say I have asked for a raise before, and gotten it, (when a promotion accidentally fell to me) thank you very much. In fact, I'd like to ask for a raise now. Sienna? I want equal naps as well as time to eat lunch without so much as a grunt from you, young lady. I mean, Boss.

*Fried onions! Our neighbors! That's all they cook, I swear! We wake up and: FRIED ONIONS. We go to bed and: FRIED ONIONS. I can't sleep when there are funky food smells in my bedroom and I am certain their kitchen is directly below it. Oh, the insanity.

*Adam and I get into this recurring conversation about the perfect amount of time one should spend at their home teaching and visiting teaching appointments. He's all lickety split, in and out style. I say that I try to be more on that side of the aisle, but with women, it just ends up being longer because we can just talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. And throw a couple kids in the mix and it's just a meeting of mayhem. Fun mayhem, but the mayhem definitely adds, oh, about 20 minutes. What do you think? And what was your longest or shortest appointment ever? I, personally, don't think it's about the time, but what goes on and what needs to go on. I think the most important thing that both parties can get from HT and VT is to know that there is trust, enough that the one being visited can honestly feel comfortable calling and asking for help when he or she needs it.

Family Christmas Card Outtakes

We're sending out Christmas cards this year and you know I'm all about photo shoots, so I gathered up the family, dressed them in red, black and white and we ventured to the park to see if we could come up with something decent. I still have no idea what I'm doing with my camera, but it's always fun to experiment.

Here are the ones you won't find on the card.

By the way, if you read this blog, I want to send you a card, so email me your address at martha dot h dot ware at gmail dot com. Seriously. Do it! Don't be shy! You know you need something to spruce up your fridge. Email me.

The Bird is 6 Months Old

And I can't believe we're still calling her The Bird! :) (Adam, maybe in the comments section you can leave the story of why you started calling her this in the first place. I need a refresher.)

Sienna turns six months old today! We had a grand photo shoot this afternoon to mark the occasion.

The Groovy Twosome.

It started inside but was not going well.

"If I know The Bird like I think I do," I thought, "she'll be much happier if we do this outside." Meh. Not so much.

An aerial view of the infant-pattern baldness going on.

Conversing with her kind (the other birds). Truly, this is her in squawking mode. It is something not to be missed.

Anytime I can catch a view of her profile, I wish I had a camera. What is it about profiles? Love them.

You might be thinking, "What in the sam hill is she doing outside in a onesie this time of year?!" Southern California NEVER. CHANGES. SEASONS. It makes me mad. But not on days when I'd like to venture out for an impromptu photo shoot.

Dirt on the foot.

"Mom. I'm over the bows."

Mid-rollover.

Lately she loves pulling back the blanket to discover what's underneath. That's usually about the time I find her regurgitated milk on the carpet. However, outside, it's grass! What a discovery. I love watching her little fingers grasp and ungrasp, grasp and ungrasp.

Double fistin' on the grass.

Winding down.

"Mom. Winding down here. You want me to lose it? I will."

Mmm, Bird. You are a delicious little snuggle bug. Your dad and I STILL can't believe such a beautiful little person came from us.

Here's to six more months of squeezing and squawking!

Halloween Polaroids

We spent Halloween at a murder mystery party. This is becoming a tradition, as it was our third year in a row doing this. Our friends Christian and Ari always do a bang up job with the food and decor, setting the stage for a really fun party. The theme this year was 1920s Chicago Speakeasy. I was reporter and Adam was a golfer/nightclub owner. My costume struggled and was very last minute. That's just how it is with me and Halloween. Never sure what to do because I refuse to buy anything. That's why you won't see The Bird in this post. I'm just too practical to get an outfit just for a photo op. I know. Boring!

Anyway, enjoy the fun pics!

Maybe It's Because I Like the Slow Life

I have never been of the camp of women who think they need to "have it all." And yet sometimes I feel like I SHOULD want to "have it all." In my mind, the definition of having it all is enjoying everything that the feminist movement delivered to we modern ladies: choices, choices, choices. But not just choosing one choice; having it all means choosing ALL the choices. Having a husband, children and a sweet bomb-diggity career. To me, that's having it all. Throw in home-ownership with a white picket fence and you're really cooking with grease (Roosevelt peeps: name that drill team instructor). That's having it all with a cherry on top. Or cream cheese frosting, which I'd take over a cherry any day.

So, here's what's baffling to me. Maybe I would want to have it all if I saw how it could be done. Because some women are definitely having it all ... or they are creating the appearance of having it all and doing a mighty fine job of flubbing it. Some women work and have children. It's not new; in fact it's the norm. But am I missing something? I mean, okay, remove the women who have to work; I'm also not talking about the women who work full time and put their kids in daycare. I'm talking about the women who are choosing to work from home while raising their kids all on their own while their husband is at work. They don't necessarily have to work, or maybe they have to supplement the income a tad. These women have figured out how to have it all. They balance nap time with work time. They hang out with their kids when it's hang out time. They make dinner, they grocery shop, they clean house, they wipe snotty noses, they go outside and play in the leaves.

And they make me tired.

It's a compelling lifestyle. Truly, it is. It sounds perfect. Really, it does. So far in my six months of momhood, I can see how, with one child, it could be done. It could be done if Sienna had perfect naps every day. It could be done if she adhered to a perfect schedule and rarely wanted attention. It could be done if she slept through the night every night. But she doesn't do any of those things. On the rare day that all those things fall into place, I have oodles of time on my hands and mucho energy. On the "otherwise" days, I'll be the first to admit, I can't do it all and I certainly wouldn't feign interest in having it all.

I hear with passing time I'll be more busy, and of course with more children I'll be pleeeenty busy, like unto a chicken sans head. But that isn't an issue with the have-it-all-moms. They find the time, they make the time, they emit the energy - however scant - and they just do it. And they seem to love it.

But do they love it? Because, let's be honest, whatever the facade, something's gotta give, right? There are still only 24 hours in each human's day and if you're filling them with one thing it means you're not filling them with another thing. If you're tending to the boss, maybe your kid is crying; if you're playing with the kids, maybe your boss is waiting on you. Can you win in this situation? Is this a win-win-win? Boss, mom, kids? All winning?

I don't know. That's why I need to hear it from you.

Are you doing it all and having it all? If so, how? And, the zinger, are you happy about all of it? And maybe take the boss out of the equation because mom and boss are synonymous, aka, you are your own boss. Is that working out?

Because I consider myself an ambitious and capable person, yet when it comes to having it all, I’d prefer to just do what I know I can handle. I set limits because I know my own limits. I know I need balance and exercise and at least somewhat decent sleep. I need blog time, news time, book time, plan proper meals time, clean time, shopping time, cook time, scripture study and prayer time and on top of all of that husband and daughter time (which I try to keep in ample supply). There have been times in my life when I tried to do it all. And I was a complete hag and totally unhappy. Overscheduled and overambitious Marthy = atrocious, unhappy Marthy.

What are your thoughts on having it all?

Saving Sanity with a Diddy

I was about to unload my wrath on motherhood last week. Adam proved a lifesaver one day when we visited him for lunch and he sang this little number about Sienna's outfit.

A Gaspy Laugh

Shaking It

The Rollover

She's been rolling back and forth like nobody's business these days. I love this video because of all the teetering on her little hip. Makes me laugh.

Bow Comments Redacted

I can't really believe what I'm about to say, especially since I've been a bow hater for as long as I can remember. But here goes: My will to live a bow-less life has been shaken. It all happened a day after I wrote the previous post. The very doctor who delivered Sienna kept saying right to her face, "Hey little guy." And Sienna was wearing PLENTY of pink. It caused something inside of me to snap. And now she wears bows. Even crazier is I LIKE it. Now strangers fawn over her pretty girlness. I'll be the first to say she DOES make a cute boy, there's no question. But she makes an even cuter girl. So, there you have it. I do bows.

Special thanks to my cousin Megan who sent The Bird a slew of hand made bows when she was a newborn. Sorry it took me this long to use them. I'm a reformed bow hater. Just like that. (More bow pictures to come. Many more!)