Wacky Groundhog Outtakes

Somehow the Vancouver Island Marmot (Marmota vancouverensis) didn't hold Dianthus's attention quite long enough to produce great images for Groundhog (Marmota monax) cards.

Don't worry if you haven't recieved a card yet, they haven't been mailed (or written, for that matter). None the less, I hope that, however the shadows fall, you have a great Groundhog Day and the spirit of spring infects you, whatever the weather.

CELEBRATE YOUR FAVORITE RODENT!

First Cold

I haven't had the opportunity to properly assess which is worse, having a sick child, a sick husband or a sick self, as the three infections were only slightly staggered and we're now dealing with all three simultaneously. Not surprisingly, blog posts about Jane Austen, Scotland and noodles and Groundhog Cards have taken a back seat in a week dominated by thoughts of, "oh, poor baby, I can't do anything to help, please, just go to sleep" (thought to both pathetic sniffling child and deep throated hacking husband).

Legume Loving Begins

Dianthus ate his first legumes yesterday, Gerber's "organic sweet peas". According to the Mister, who fed him, more did go into his stomach than onto his bib. It's hard to tell from the photographic evidence.

Labeling mushed green peas (aka "garden peas" or "peas") as "sweet peas" disturbs me. I don't know of any sour peas and the plant that is commonly known as sweet peas (Lathyrus odoratus, shown) is poisonous.

For those of you wanting more Dianthus firsts than I've been reporting (or recording): he first turned over stomach to back regularly at 3 1/2 months, he was sleeping through the night most of the time by 3 months, he giggled and babbled lots starting at 4 months and he turned over back to stomach, by himself, not on accident, Dec. 23 at his grandparents' house. He was 4 months and three weeks at the time. His first non-milk food was baby rice cereal last weekend, Jan. 16, at 5 1/2 months. He seems to like both rice and peas. Not long before adzuki beans.

The Great Groundhog Escape

17th or so annual groundhog party is scheduled for Friday, Feb. 5. Stop by for a sip and a snack and to celebrate spring (or the eventual coming thereof).

Zwazo yo in Haiti: The Ecology Goes On

Dear Friend Debbie Baker lives in Kansas but works to help train people in rural Haiti to lead ecotours and track their local ecology and water quality (I promoted her ecotours for holiday gifts here). She's in Haiti right now. She's fine. Her building shook but the village she's in is standing. Communication and transportation within Haiti aren't working. I can't imagine she'll be leaving her village anytime soon. So she spent yesterday teaching people about water quality and has birding and nutrition classes later this week. She's doing what she set out to do.
Thanks to Debbie for making us aware of the situation in Haiti before the earthquake and thanks to all of you who are keeping the millions of people whose lives have been devastated, and Debbie, in your prayers.

On Sloth and Cheer

My family* does not do holidays half-heartedly. And although we may actually start shopping over the summer (but we're not that sort of people), we never have anything done on time. Or rather we never have everything done on time. Boxes were sent to Germany air mail on December 9, but still didn't make it. I bought cookie ingredients Dec. 3 and mom has had nuts piled around for months, yet the first cookies either of us baked this year were spritz on the 23rd. Santa still visits and places piles of gifts (most of them practical items) under the tree. All of them are "wrapped". Some of the wrapping is a brown paper bag with a towel covering the gift, some is newspaper; one or two presents are always wrapped in a garbage bag. Christmas Eve always includes some sort of shopping frenzy, even if we're all "done".

The Mister and I each had a long list of things that need to be done over our break. As Colorado is the single longest stay on our winter road trip, we thought we'd accomplish them here. Neither of us have completed one. We've fallen into the holiday This is the point at which my original post, written on Dec. 26, trailed off. Right before I wrote the word "stupor" or "trap of comfort" or something of the like. Despite being a person who changed the table cloth three times for Christmas dinner (several of my mother's red table cloths are too orange to compliment the Christmas napkins and candles) for a meal that was only for the four of us, I couldn't make it through a blog post to explain why I hadn't done socializing when there was sitting around and watching it snow to do.

In any case, I have forgotten most of the original intent of this post. Perhaps it was to illustrate that I come by some of my split personality holiday craze naturally. I may envy my husband's lack of concern about gift giving or special occasion foods or most anything else associated with the holidays, but I would be truly sad without giving gifts and eating cookies and the great traditional forgetting to roast the chestnuts until they all have gone bad. But I think I will use the post for another purpose. To point out that just because I don't do things half-heartedly does not mean that I do them on time. Yes, a new year has started. No, I don't have a new theme or resolution yet**. But I will, don't you fret.

*By this I mean my parents and myself. The Mister is not the sort to mark annual celebrations with much ritual and Dianthus has yet to develop a holiday personality.

**Ideas have included gratitude, the letter J, the letter G, astronomy, noodles, dumplings and the like, the Solanaceae, the Jane Project, heat, spiders and the number 8. I would like to do a more serious art or music investigation, but know that that won't be happening this year. Ideas welcome.

Bad Mommy

I spent a large chunk of the day preparing things for Dianthus's daycare debut tomorrow, another large part carrying him around because he had to be on the move all day, and a small fraction of the day horrified because I cut him while clipping his fingernails. He was not bothered, but his bloody face and my bloody boob were disconcerting.
I spent no time planning for work or even looking at the schedule of meetings.
Bad mommy? Bad employee? Normal working parent?
People obviously figure out some balance, but at the moment I'm not sure how.