We're turning Five!!!

Five years is wood. Or silverware. Either way, Kris and I hitched it in 2007 and we're still chugging. This year might have been the most challenging. I think that having a baby - despite how fabulous it's supposed to be - brought the absolute worst of us out into the world. And we're still married!! We both consider this an achievement. At this point we've agreed that no one else would have our crazy shit anyway.
Max is, of course, no longer a newborn and has become 100% the best thing in our lives. Even with the velociraptor screams, the (unintentional) scratching of our eyes, sneezing in our mouths and farting in our faces, he puts more love in our lives than either of us ever thought possible. I'm grateful to my husband for making this kid with me. I think I can sum up our marriage with this anecdote: this week, Kris told his office mates that we've started measuring the size of people on tv by how they compare to Julie Bowen (eg. Guy Fieri is about three JBs). Apparently someone was surprised that I participated in such crude behaviour. Kris reminded them that, although I am sweet, I also married him. I love you K-Fo. So much.

Cancer and grilled cheese

So you know that I recently cut off all my hair and sent the pony in to make a wig (below is a photo of what Kris would look like with hippie hair, btw). The impetus to cut it off was the constant shedding and massive clumps of hair coming out in my hands in the shower everyday. Apparently you don't lose any hair during pregnancy but after you have the baby, just because you don't quite feel shitty enough about yourself, nature digs its nails in with massive hair loss. Sad. Anyway, when I told my in-laws that I was chopping it off my FIL suggested I donate it. I started to think about all of the people I have known that have survived or died from cancer and, like most people, I was struck by how many there were. Friends, parents of friends, my grandma had it three times and evenutally died from bone cancer - she was dying for four years, it was ugly. My mom's childhood friend died from brain cancer a few years ago - also very ugly. My dad, Kris' dad and mom who has, for the last year, been gritting her teeth through the diagnosis, treatment and god awful side effects of breast cancer. Just before Christmas, a friend of my friend Janaya died when the cancer in her brain spread through her body. Janaya is spending this year running 12 half marathons to raise money for the Cancer Society. She has an awesome blog here. A ponytail seems pretty measly but anything helps I guess. I don't really have a point - cancer has just been on my mind.

On a much lighter note, will someone please please open a grilled cheese restaurant or food truck in this city. The other day I saw a guy on TV put fried perogies and sauerkraut on a grilled cheese sandwich. I want that. I want that all the time. I know that there are enough Germans, Ukrainians and Mennonites over here to make this work.

I'm baaaaaack!

Wow. Max is four months old today and I've been feeling like a normal person again for probably the last month so I think I'm ready to commit to entertaining myself on this blog again. Now that he sleeps upstairs several times a day I feel small amounts of freedom to do whatever I want while he's asleep.

I have to say this: babies are beasts. Kris and I like to refer to the first three months of our son's life as the End of Days. There is no way really to prepare for it and no way to properly describe what it is like to bring a human into the world (MIRACLE OF LIFE!) then take that human, who will die without you, home to integrate into your previously DINKy life. Here's the thing. You don't integrate them into your life. You change everything about your life to accomodate their needs. At least we have. People have different experiences and perceptions and babies are different. Our son, not surprisingly, is a sensitive little guy who doesn't adapt well to change and whose mood will change from the best time ever had to murder cries in a matter of 0.05 seconds. He really got the best of our genes. Lord knows I am crazy and set off by the smallest thing and I wouldn't exactly describe Kris as a "go with the flow" kind of guy. So I can't really fault Max for the mood swings and need for routine. Also, I understand now why governments use sleep deprivation as a form of torture. After weeks of sleeping an hour here or there, a person changes. They become angry and terrible and think about taking off all their clothes and laying outside in the snow overnight because at least they might find some peace. But it really actually doesn't last. You feel like you will never sleep again and will probably die but then one day it's all over and your baby sleeps 10 hours at night making it possible to watch Hawaii 5-0, eat a meal and sleep for six hours straight. So now that we have emerged from that initial shock and have started sleeping again, life feels pretty good. Max smiles and has started giggling and every time I'm like "I HAVE THE SMARTEST BABY EVER!!!!!" It's awesome and I love it.