Baby Girl

As I walked around our tiny condo for the tenth time, trying to get my exhausted daughter to sleep, I became more and more irritated. This kid was running on fumes, completely worn out, rubbing her bleary, puffy little eyes. Not only that, but it was 5 pm. She goes to bed at 8 pm, just three hours after that. Sweet. I love staying up all night with babies. But I could not deal with her awake and cranky, either.

So I angrily plopped down in the rocking chair in her darkened, cool room. I began lamenting how terrible it was that I didn't have Ilse on a schedule, and that she couldn't even soothe herself to sleep yet. I looked down and noticed that finally one of her eyes was closed, the other just barely open, her little eye ball looking around the room and at me, making sure I didn't go anywhere. My gaze moved down a little to her tiny nose, petite and delicate, with baby-sized nostrils. There was also a baby-sized booger in one, moving in and out with her breathing. I chuckled, and removed it. She brought her chubby arm up to rub my hand out of the way, and drowsily went back to her one-eyed vigil.

I realized that I was hunched over her, my face only inches away from hers, so I sat back and relaxed in the chair, looking her over from top to bottom. Brown soft spikes of hair, button nose, rosy round cheeks, tiny bow-shaped mouth, double chin, soft fat arms crossed delicately one on top of the other, round milk belly, enormous dimply thighs, and play-dough feet with tiny sausage toes. I almost laughed out loud, this kid was so damn cute.

Kissing her forehead gently, I realized that these were the last times she and I would be able to do this. Even a year from now, she will not need me to enfold her in my arms and help her fall asleep. Sure, she'll need me to hug and comfort her, and maybe occasionally she'll sneak into bed with David and I for a little snuggly time, but never again like this.

After I placed her oh so carefully in her crib, taking care to cover her as softly as possible with her Pooh blanket and backing slowly and quietly out of her room, I happened to glance at the clock. An hour and a half had passed by that I looked her over and over and she slept peacefully in my arms,

The sweetest of moments spent with my baby.

Nob Artiste

"What do you mean the perspective is off? I graduated from the Art Institute for God's sake! You wouldn't know a work of art if it slapped you in the face. Good day to you, Sir!"
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Trash Monster

I have a hard enough time just taking my trash to the dumpster before it overflows out of the can and into the kitchen. Although the dumpster is a mere 30 yards away from the front door, I pretty much put it off until the last moment, which is usually the moment when the smell of the garbage hitting my face makes me grimace as I walk in the front door. It's even harder now that I have a baby, what with the diapers and all. Because of the diapers, I have been thinking about how much waste my family generates. It's a little scary when you think to yourself, "Where does my trash go?" I know, I know, it goes to the landfill. Being the mathematical thinker that I am, I came up with an equation to help clarify my thinking: (2+ trash bags/week/family) x (the whole city) = ???. Do we ever think where our garbage is going to end up when we're throwing it in the trash can? What's going to happen when this landfill is full?

The Eastern Garbage Patch is an area of dead current in the Pacific Ocean that is filled with dumped garbage and it is twice the size of Texas. It's pretty much a landfill in the middle of an ocean.

Kamikatsu is a village in eastern Japan that has adopted a "zero-waste" policy, meaning they sort all of their non-biodegradable garbage into 34 separate recycle bins and compost the rest. I know Americans are nowhere near this kind of effort, but we could be doing so much better! (My condo complex doesn't even have recycling; I have to take it to my parent's house in Glendale.)

We are meant to take care of this planet, and I hope we can control our huge garbage-producing appetites that are perpetuating a culture of waste.

The trash monster that you see above is courtesy of kozyndan.

I'll write something less preachy next time.

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Whoa shit. I'd better write about something soon.