Anniversary Tacos

Today is our second wedding anniversary. To celebrate, we are going to drive four hours (round trip) to get tacos. I'm serious. We found out there's a taco stand run by migrant workers in a teeny tiny town in Maine and that's where we're headed. And on the way back we'll probably see the new X-Man movie. A fantastic day. 

It's shocking what we've been able to cram into our five-year relationship. Before I met Jared, I made a list of things I'd want in a partner. I have no recollection of making this list, but I'm guessing it happened after a bad date. A few months into knowing Jared, I came across the list and laughed. It's not every day that you meet someone who checks off all the boxes. Love you, Jared! 

THINGS I’D WANT IN A PARTNER

Taller than me!!!

Sense of humor (sarcasm)

Intelligence

Has at least a couple of great friends

Good relationship with family

Great smile

Passionate about work/school

Likes dogs

Plays an instrument

Has traveled or wants to travel

Makes me laugh and laughs at me

Probably not from San Diego

Speaks another language

Can dance

Honest on his own (don't have to pull shit out of him)

Likes movies and television

Likes camping (but not a fanatic)

Likes hockey

High tolerance for silliness

Knows how to cook at least two decent meals

Sing Us a Song Mr. Lego Man

For my mom's birthday last week, Henry sang her Rocky Raccoon. Not just the chorus of " Rocky Raccoon checked into a room" but the first 163 words of it (see highlighted below). I had asked Jared to stop singing it to him and Sullivan after Henry came up to me and asked if I was going to run off with another guy as per the song. But... hearing Henry sing it was beyond adorable and hilarious. 

He's always been musical, but lately, with his crazy memory, the lyrics are a'flowin. He sings to Sullivan and Sullivan does a little shake that could be considered a dance. Sullivan has got the music in him, too. His favorite show on TV is Glee. Whatever he's doing in the room, when we turn it on and the characters break into song, he turns around, big eyes on the screen and does the little body shake. Again adorable. 

They will also sing in the car. Sullivan prefers Gypsy Kings while riding with Jared, sort of more like yelling, but hey, he's nine months. It oddly sounds in tune. Henry likes Disney show tunes where Mommy bumbles up lyrics. My rendition of "Part of Your World (aka. Look at this Stuff)" is quite moving. You can really feel Ariel's longing. It's a driving-to-school-favorite. 

And, of course, Jared and I rap. Yes, we rap. They particularly enjoy the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song, with Vanilla Ice and Nate Dogg & Warren G close runner ups. To represent the ladies, I recently converted En Vogue's "Whatta Man" into "Whatta man, whatta man, whatta tiny Lego man (he's a tiny Lego man)." The rap that followed ("I'd like to take a minute or two to give much respect to, the tiny Lego man in the backseat...") changed with each singing.

It has been fun to watch Henry's musical taste evolve. He's always liked to watch Jared play guitar. And more recently, accordion. And what kid doesn't like to bang on a plastic drum set? He also does a little dance, stomping his feet and waving his upper body side to side with some spastic jazz hands thrown in. I try to dance with him to show him dancing can be silly and fun and free from inhibitions. Considering neither Jared or I are much of athletes, maybe we can raise some musicians. 

Now somewhere in the Black Mountain Hills of Dakota
There lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon,
And one day his woman ran off with another guy,
Hit young Rocky in the eye.
Rocky didn't like that
He said, "I'm gonna get that boy".
So one day he walked into town
Booked himself a room in the local saloon.

Rocky Raccoon checked into his room,
Only to find Gideon's Bible.
Rocky had come, equipped with a gun,
To shoot off the legs of his rival.
His rival it seems, had broken his dreams,
By stealing the girl of his fancy.
Her name was Magill, and she called herself Lil,
But everyone knew her as Nancy.
Now she and her man, who called himself Dan,
Were in the next room at the hoe down.
Rocky burst in, and grinning a grin,
He said, "Danny boy, this is a showdown".
But Daniel was hot, he drew first and shot,
And Rocky collapsed in the corner.
Now the doctor came in, stinking of gin,
And proceeded to lie on the table.
He said, "Rocky, you met your match".
And Rocky said, "Doc, it's only a scratch.
And I'll be better, I'll be better, Doc, as soon as I am able".

Now Rocky Raccoon, he fell back in his room,
Only to find Gideon's Bible.
Gideon checked out, and he left it, no doubt,
To help with good Rocky's revival.

Let's Get Physical

I don’t remember how much I weighed before the boys. I don’t remember what size I was. But I do remember caring about those things a lot more. Even in between Henry and Sullivan. When clothes didn’t fit right and my body felt less than half mine. But having more of a life, an identity, outside of them reminds me I am a separate person. And I’m able to see my body as the thing that created them and held them and feeds them.

Pregnancy was life-changing for me. Not in the ways it is for everyone - the whole, duh, now you have a child and of course life changes ways. But for someone who was insanely skinny and tall and felt out of place and not particularly attractive and disconnected from the body I didn’t fully understand - pregnancy grounded me. It renewed my awe and trust of nature. Being a part of something so much bigger than myself (which, if you’ve seen my pregnancy photos, I was not small :)). That I didn’t have to read books or take classes or even totally understand what was happening in there, but my body knew. And it would go on autopilot if I spazzed out. If I didn’t eat perfectly for breastfeeding, it would still take what the baby needs. That was and continues to be comforting for me. I try to take myself and my body a little less seriously.

So, my body and I have reached a peace.

My exercise consists of

• living in a three-story house where bed, food and tv are on different floors
• working in a building on a downtown street where I park half a block away and walk to eat
• walking down the dirt road with my parents, dogs and sons listening to Henry name the birds
• nursing Sullivan in bed and the living room and pumping twice a day in my office
• picking up Henry in a near primal hug when I get home from work and he looks like such a grown boy, often only wearing underwear
• chasing after Sullivan as he realizes, although he can't get his knees to crawl with him, he can drag his body to any exposed cord or dog or coveted toy of Henry's that will cause a brother battle
  
• dancing to the radio with Henry and Sullivan on the weekends after pancakes with my family around me, all in pajamas.

My dressing consists of

• finding shades and shapes and patterns that remind me I’m creative and colorful
• nursing bras underneath sweaters with zippers, shirts with buttons or dresses that can be peeled back for easy access
• dangly earrings that tinkle or jangle to a subtle soundtrack when I walk
• scarves with sequins or stripes or polka dots or bold, loud colors that peek out of jackets or hang on sweaters like adult equivalents of twirly straws
• wackadoodle socks hidden under winter boots which are eagerly transitioning to bare feet in comfortable, red sandals and tweed, brown flats.

My eating consists of

• finally enjoying broccoli
• keeping a snack drawer at work which I replenish on weekly visits to the Trader Joe’s in Portland, typing while chewing ½ salt almonds, fruit strips, Cuties tangerines, and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies
• frozen Stouffer's’ lasagna and Trader Joes’ macaroni & cheese lunches which my coworkers make fun of me for loving Stouffers best even after living in Italy
• salad bar salads from Hannaford’s that mimic the one item I like from Wendy’s menu with cranberries, nuts, bleu cheese and chicken
• delicious dinners made by my husband and shared with my family at the table every night: tacos and stews and pasta and chicken parm and conversations about our days.