Lazarus has a buddy!

His name is Jai, and he lives here in town with his mama and papa, Christine and Omar, along with three horses, four dogs, eight or so turkeys, and miscellaneous transient critters. We are *so* happy to finally have someone to socialize with!

Jai is already practicing standing up:

He also likes stealing Lazarus' binky, though he freely offers it back:

And though he's a month and a half younger than Lazarus, Jai is a little dynamo -- he wore my little guy out:

One fine day

Our morning routine is pretty basic: we wake up, mama makes coffee, and mama and Lazarus hang out in the back room to watch Sesame Street, pull toys out of the toybox, and have breakfast. The other day, however, Lazarus decided to spice things up a bit....

Good morning, sunshine! Hiya -- hey, what's that dog doing out there?


Methinks I shall investigate... And while I'm at it, is that another binky I see under mama's chair?


What's up, mama? You look surprised about something...


Yes, my little guy is finally getting (a bit) mobile, after enduring many months of slings and arrows from meddling relatives who couldn't understand why he wasn't meeting or exceeding published baby activity standards. He doesn't exactly crawl; he kind of scooches around on a combination of thigh and knee and foot and elbow, but he has become an expert at pivoting. And he loves to roll back and forth -- something he mastered before he was three months old but didn't see the need for, apparently, till just now.

What's he been doing all this time, then? Working on his personality, that's what. And anyone who's met him knows that's been time very well spent....

Singin' in the rain

I'm hearing the most amazing thing outside my window right now... frogs! We had real rain today and I guess that was enough to bring them out. I have no idea what species I'm hearing -- it could be any one of the numerous types found here in Socorro County. Rooting around on the Web... let's see here... it could be one of these guys:



That would be the New Mexico Spadefoot (Spea multiplicata), the official state amphibian. I can't see them, of course, but they sound like this (you need WinAmp to hear, I think). I guess a real rain brings them out in abundance, which gives me another reason to hope for a good "monsoon" (i.e. rainy) season this summer. The sound of frogs makes me so happy... This is the first time in ages I've lived near frogs, and that must be a good sign.

Froggy goes ribbit...

Another rant (no pictures)

I need to rant tonight, but I'm going to displace -- put the energy toward something other than what irked me today. Also, this is a long-standing issue for me and I... well... just want to rant. I read yesterday some words from a woman who, though she hasn't had a child, has very strong opinions on childbirth and such. That, for example, infant formula is awful and evil, and no woman who cares about her baby should touch it. And that a woman should never "just decide" to have a caesarean section and deprive herself and her baby of a natural childbirth unless it's absolutely necessary, and most c-sections aren't necessary but women let themselves get talked into them because they're ill-informed and scared and brainwashed by the medical system. This from a woman who considers herself radical, seeking alternatives to the oppressive mainstream view of childbirth and motherhood. "I would never JUDGE any mother," she insists, but....

I have to admit that I harbored similar opinions once. Then I bore a child and had to face reality. I used to rant about never EVER touching evil formula and why on EARTH would any woman not want to breastfeed. When Lazarus hadn't gained back his birth weight within two weeks and screamed when trying to latch on and I was horribly sore and chapped, I "caved" and started supplementing with formula. He took the bottle like he'd been starving the whole 16 days he was alive, and both bottle and breast feedings suddenly became peaceful. But I felt like shit about it, and started supplementing later than I perhaps should have, because I'd absorbed all the negative judgment against bottle feeding. I felt (and still sometimes feel) almost embarrassed that I didn't "stick it out." Even though my son is clearly thriving physically, mentally and emotionally.

I also used to rant about birth interventions, so of course I ended up getting induced and having a c-section. I still sometimes wonder whether I had a "necessary" c-section -- again, all the negative judgment weighs on me and makes me doubt my own judgment, which at the time told me Lazarus was possibly in danger because his heart rate kept dropping, and the last thing I wanted to do was lose him. "Necessary" or not, it's the decision I made at the time, fully informed because I'd taken Bradley (natural childbirth) classes and read whatever I could get my hands on, and it sucks that I feel compelled to question it sometimes because a cadre of people want to harp on the issue, supposedly in the name of what's best for mamas and babes. It's bad enough that those of us not following "convention" get judged from the right wing -- I'm used to it and can dismiss them as the assholes they are. But to get judged, directly or not, for choices I've made by people with whom I share many values and aspirations, well, that really sucks, and is also kind of isolating. Motherhood can be difficult and isolating sometimes, and all the more so when women start turning on one another in the name of what's "best."

Time to think, plot mischief, and watch a sunset

I had lots of time to think and watch the world while driving up to and back from Denver, and I had to wonder why, if Texas is so damn great, half the cars I saw on I-25 throughout New Mexico and Colorado had Texas plates. Going somewhere, people?

I also thought about gardening. I've been doing it for quite a while now -- sometimes in containers on small apartment balconies, more recently in whole yards that let me get in way over my head -- and by the time we left California, I'd gotten pretty good at it. Now, in a very dry mountain setting, I'm struggling at best and realize that I have to learn new gardening skills. Take a (much) less water-intensive approach. Figure out not just how to keep stuff alive here but what will thrive with little water and lots of dry winds. My vegetable garden is surviving only because I water it every other day, sometimes more, but even with that much watering my "flower beds" in front have done almost nothing -- some seeds sprouted, then died off, and of the few plants I put in only a few herbs are hanging in there. So I did a Web search on xeriscaping -- low-water landscaping -- and actually found a site that makes me drool just as much as all those seed and flower catalogs I used to get every winter. It has a small resource library not to mention lots of colorful perennials that might actually do well up here. Here are a few I have my eye on:



By this time next year (patience, Anna) I might actually have something other than dust and rocks for a yard.

On the way home, somewhere between Wagon Mound and Watrous, I saw the most amazing sunset. Lots of torn, ragged clouds piled up over the Sangre de Cristo mountains, all stained with some shade of red or violet or orange, and then a hawk sailed right through the scene. The thing about sunsets here is they last forever, and change slowly but constantly, giving an hour or so of good viewing pleasure. If I hadn't been driving I'd have put my feet up, cracked open a beer, and declared that it doesn't get any better than this. Knowing that, in fact, it always does.

It ain't easy being green, if you're a garden in New Mexico

We just got back from Denver and, let me tell you, it's green there. Leafy flowery long-grass livin'-is-easy green... but it's sunny here, as well as peaceful and family-drama-free, and a few things in my garden are finally maybe doing better than half-dead. The corn suddenly is stalky rather than grassy, and the peppers seem solid if a bit short. The cucumber plant is doing fairly well -- growing slowly, but a bit flea-bitten; the beans just aren't thriving, though, nor are the squash. And the tomatoes just don't seem to want to make the effort... we'll see. I added some cottonseed meal for a small nitrogen boost and will probably add more mulch tomorrow. I don't think I'll be getting a bumper crop of anything this year, not even weeds 'cuz it's too dry for them, even.

Lazarus definitely enjoyed the park in Denver, especially the swing:



and so did Lucy:



Today I put Lazarus in his swing here at home -- had to clean up the logs and bark around it first -- and it broke up what was becoming a long, cranky afternoon. He was happy the rest of the day, probably because of the sunshine and breeze and the silly dog leaping around below him. Lucy's still too rough to play with Lazarus, but he cracks up watching her run around and be goofy. I have some puppy training books now and hope to calm this adorable little beast down a bit...

Five for fun: Planes, trains, and automobiles

1. What's your favorite method of travel? Why?
Definitely car -- I love love love road trips... although maybe if I had a luxurious sleeper car, I could get into the train thing, too, for really long trips. The things I love best about going by car are that I can leave on my own schedule, I can pack as much as will fit in the car, and I can stop wherever and whenever I want. And I can listen to my music as loud as I want, without the scream of the plane's engines in my ears, and no one bangs on the back of my seat or lowers their head into my lap while I'm eating dinner. And now I have a road-trip buddy -- Lazarus seems to do really well in the car, and, fingers crossed, we'll go on many trips together.

2. What's the longest road trip you've ever taken? Where?
Philadelphia to Albuquerque, New Mexico, in June 1993, over five days with two friends, three cats, and a carload of stuff I was moving out west with me. We stayed in Motel 6's the first three nights -- Roanoke, Virginia, Nashville, Tennessee, and Little Rock, Arkansas -- and in another little motel I can't remember the name of in Shamrock, Texas. The motel in Roanoke was scary -- both the front door and the bathroom door had putty and small wood braces to repair what clearly looked like doors kicked in and broken down. Did someone get stalked and murdered there? Did someone fall down and die in the bathtub and no one figured it out till the bill went unpaid and the other guests complained of a smell? We packed up and left very, very early the next morning. I had gotten my driver's license about a month before (at the tender age of 27) and did okay till we hit Nashville, then my friends (Agatha and Rosanne) tactfully took over. The final day, the car conked out going up the hill into New Mexico, and we barely managed to make it to a campground to rest and call someone, and I had my usual (at the time) mild panic attack because things weren't going smoothly and my three cats were getting restless after five days in the car. (The car just had vapor lock and we did finally make it to Albuquerque, and the apartment complex I had rented in unseen had a lovely pool where we relaxed the evening away.)

3. How many plane trips have you taken in your life?
Hmmmm... maybe 12 or so, probably more business (back in my "real" employment days) than leisure. Shortest: Denver to Albuquerque, during a powerful August storm that tossed the 25-seat plane around like a beach ball; longest: Los Angeles to Ireland (via Britain), which I don't recommend for restless or claustrophobic travelers.

4. What method of travel do you fear so much or intensely dislike that you avoid it? Why?
Air travel... because I hate airports and all the people and feel claustrophobic in airplanes. I love the view and the speed, but it's almost not worth all the rest of the rigamarole. Especially now -- I've always had a bag or two searched, for some reason, but now the security check involves getting Lazarus' stroller and car seat taken completely apart, having to get wanded and take my shoes off, emptying out my laptop bag and having to explain why I'm carrying all these wires and other implements... And I always have this sense that at one of the many checkpoints through the maze leading to my way-too-small seat, something is going to hang and -- boom. Anna has a meltdown (see #5 below).

5. Describe the worst travel experience you've ever had.
Los Angeles to Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, for a mission trip in 1997. The plane got into Santo Domingo around 3:00 in the morning, and we had to stand in line for what seemed like hours to show our passports, go through security, and pay to get into the country. There was some confusion as to where our group was supposed to go, so we kept getting herded here, then there, and I had two very heavy bags to carry and hadn't slept in 24 hours. I don't do well on little or no sleep, and I don't do well in crowded, chaotic situations, so of course I had a complete meltdown -- crying, dry heaves, hyperventilation... it was ridiculous. We ended up having an amazing time there, though (tarantulas and rats and airplane-sized mosquitoes notwithstanding.)