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I feel like every time I write, I open with, "wow, it's been a long time since I last wrote." This time is different, in that I'm starting with "I feel like every time I write..." Ha ha.

So it's the end of November. We're two weeks away from Michaela being a year old. She went from a little poppy seed to a big, vibrant, happy girl. It's incredible how quickly the year has gone. Someone said to me, about being a mom, "the days are slow, but the years are fast." I totally get that. Some days, I am counting down to 7 p.m., when she usually goes to bed. Then I think about how old Michaela is and my mind is blown all over again.

So, since October, a lot has happened. We went on our cruise, which was very nice. Mike, Michaela and I cruised to Mexico with Mike's mom and stepdad. The trip was a success. I got time to relax (went to the spa, got a massage and a facial) and had a break from the day-to-day, and we all had fun. The grandparents loved spending time with Michaela. Mike and his stepdad took a ton of pictures, which they both enjoy. While on the trip, Michaela started saying "mama," "dada," and "nana."

Our cruise was over Halloween, so Michaela spent her first Halloween dressed adorably as a monkey while heading to paradise. It was very, very warm, so she only wore the costume for about 10 minutes. Nonetheless, we captured the moment with pictures, which was all I wanted.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. Michaela had a blast. A total blast. Mike make turkey and all the fixings and I made Michaela a plate of them, which she got to feed herself. She crammed fistfuls of cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, turkey and a roll in her face while Mike and I took pictures. She loved the food and had a lot of fun.

I was less than excited about the way Thanksgiving went down from a family standpoint. We were supposed to go to the Bay Area to spend some time with Mike's grandma. Mike ended up having to work Friday night, so we couldn't drive all the way up to Nor. Cal. and then back in time for him to work. Mike dilly-dallied in letting his grandma know, which I thought was really disrespectful. I was really looking forward to spending time with her, and for her to get to see Michaela (who she hasn't seen since the baby was a month old). So that was a bummer. When we ended up having to stay home, I invited my parents over. They declined. Yup, declined. Just like last year, when I had to call and beg them to come (which they did). So lame. And hurtful.

This year's excuse was that my dad needed to wrap up his moving. Yup, he's moving into my mom's house. Finally. After six years of their living apart.

So back in October, my dad got a call from the woman who owns the house my family has rented for the last 24 years. The house I grew up in. The woman said she was having an inspector come by because she was having the house refinanced. It sounded totally sketchy, because why would you randomly have an inspector come when you haven't been to the house for 20 years? The owner literally never went there, never looked at the state of the property, never put any money into fixing anything up, never... anything. So the whole thing was very fishy. Mike and I seized the opportunity. Mike called the owner and asked her if she was thinking about selling. She stuck to the refi story. Fine. He told her if they needed money, if they were thinking about refinancing, that we (Mike and I) would be interested in buying the place. They talked for quite some time and ended the conversation with her saying we should talk again in the middle of November. We went off on our cruise and when our ship pulled back into San Diego, I called my mom, whol told me that my dad had gotten a registered letter from the owner saying she was selling the house and he had to be out in a month. WHAT?

My parents (Well, now my dad) rent(s) the house, they don't own it. It was the right of the owners to sell their house. I don't blame the owners for selling it. I blame them for the way it went down. Why did the owner lie to my dad? Why did she lie to Mike? Why not call my dad and tel him what the deal was and then follow up with a letter? Really, after renting for 24 years, the way he found out was by a certified letter? The whole thing was totally fucked up.

So my dad, who doesn't deal well with change, was pretty shell shocked. He had to work on clearing out all of his possessions-- mainly cars and car parts, which is the reason he was still living there and not at my mom's house-- and work full time and everything else. Oy. He has been making good progress, and he got a lot of his stuff moved to a storage unit. His non-car personal belongings went to my mom's house. Or should I say, to *their* house.

Now my mom is all freaked out about them moving back in together. For the last six years, all she has been talking about is wanting my dad to move in with her. I'm not sure why, since they hated living together. But now she has her wish. Now don't get me wrong. I don't blame her for being nervous, but I wish for a second, she would at least acknowledge that she's finally getting what she wants. Even though it's a case of "be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it."

At any rate. My dad gave the excuse that he couldn't come to dinner at our house because he was emptying out his house in preparation for the move. So he didn't come. I talked to my brother, who has a way of offering perspective on family-related situations (that's why I'd like to give Michaela a sibling-- so Michaela has the option of talking to someone else about how crazy Mike and I are). He basically told me I need to give up on inviting them to family stuff. That all of them-- my mom and dad and bro-- love me but show it in a different way and that I need to just meet them where they are and not expect them to meet me where I am. It's good advice. It's also easier said than done.

I was really angry at my dad. He gets so hurt that Michaela cries whenever she sees him. She does that because she doesn't see him very often. Now, she surely will see him more often once my dad moves in with my mom, but for the meantime... But I invite him over, give him the chance to spend time with Michaela, and he turns it down. And it's not just this one time. This happened last year, pre-Michaela. But it also happens all the time now. I invite both of my parents over and they refuse on a regular basis. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I expect more of them than that. Even at the same time I am happy with how good they are when they're with Michaela, I wish they could just be... normal. There, I said it. Normal. Maybe there's no such thing as normal. Maybe I've watched too many sitcoms in my life. But there it is.

Well, on that note... I'm going to go pump. I've been pumping for the last 11 1/2 months. My time with my Pump in Style is drawing to an end. I'm glad, so I can have my body back, but I'm also really proud that I've managed to do so for so long. Michaela may not have been exclusively breastfed, but she had an awful lot of breast milk!

And she's doing really well. She has 8 teeth and more on the way. She laughs, she waves hi and bye, she can sort of walk behind her walker toy thing. She crawls like a mad woman and does some cruising. She is a hoot. I love her so much.

That's a good place to end. Remind me next time to write about my upcoming promotion, about Mike's work, about the $3k I won(!), and about #2.

Mother's Day Wrap Up

I wrote this on Monday, the day after Mother's Day.

I had an absolutely wonderful mother's day. Mike treated me like a queen, and I even got a gift and a card from Michaela. I slept in, had breakfast and dinner served to me, took a walk and had a picnic lunch, luxuriated in a bubble bath mike drew for me. Not too shabby. My mom and brother called me and wished me a happy mother's day, as did my mother-in-law and her husband. I made cards for each of the great grandparents from Michaela, and those went over big. Everyone loved the pictures I used, and I personalized them with "Happy Mother's Day, Great Grandma X" on them.

I also reached out to many of my friends who are moms. I made brownies for several of the local moms, and delivered them with cards earlier in the week. I also left messages for other friends via Facebook.

This year, Mother's Day meant so much to me. Not only because it's my first Mother's Day and I wanted to celebrate that fact, but because it's the first time I really understood how much goes into being a mom and how much work it is. So I wanted to celebrate that with my friends and family, and honor them.

Last night, I put Michaela to bed. I fed her and sat with her in the rocker and told her all the things I love about her and how much I want for her to have a good life. I'm still overwhelmed by how much love I have for her. I love her more than everyone else in the world, and I've never loved anyone as much as I love her. My whole heart swells when I think about her.

And she's growing up so fast! In two days, she'll be five months old. She's holding her head up and even sitting up by herself (when we spread her legs wide. it's more of a feat of balance than of strength, but oh well).

In fact, last Thursday, Mike called me after their sign language class and told me she'd sat up by herself for the first time. I was excited, but also really sad I wasn't there to see it. I realize I have a great set up, and I certainly am not complaining, but still. It was hard to know he was there for it, and all the other moms in the class were there for it, and I was at home working. A friend of mine reminded me that there will be lots of other firsts and that I'll get to be there for them, which is very true, so I'm trying to keep that in mind.

My mom has been working with Michaela to get her to say "mama." She is bound and determined that "mama" should be the baby's first word. Prior to mother's day, she was really working to get Michaela to try to say it for the holiday, but no such luck. Still, I was touched by the gesture.

I was also touched by the nice thing my mom said, which she also echoed in the card she gave me for Mother's Day. She said I'm a good mom and that it gives her a lot of pleasure to watch me with Michaela. It was the nicest thing anyone could have said to me. My mom was a really good mommy, so that's high praise from her.

(In fact, my mom continues to be a good mommy. She takes great care of Michaela and me, even now!)

Hoppy Easter

We had the nicest Easter dinner-- Michaela's first. It was the most fun I've had at a gathering of my family (outside of my wedding, which doesn't really count) in I don't know how long. My family, as I've mentioned, is weird, but yesterday, everything just came together perfectly.

First, some background.

I don't usually talk to my grandmother because I don't care for her. If we weren't related, I would have nothing to do with her. She's very stiff and formal and judgmental. I don't think she's very nice to certain relatives (including my father, who is the best kid she has who is still living) and there have been a number of things over the years that have made me feel like she's not very nice to me. (Like skipping my wedding rehearsal dinner because she was mad my grandfather's 2nd wife would be there.) She hasn't ever been to our house, though we've lived her for two and a half years. My grandmother supports her 50+ year old son, who I dislike, letting him live in her house rent-free, buying his food, cooking his meals, washing his clothes, etc.

My dad is famous for showing up to family dinners just in time to eat, then leaving about 15 minutes after the eating is done. It's like he has a timer set.

My mother gets weird around Mike sometimes. She thinks he thinks she's weird. Which she is, but he still likes her.

My brother works in a restaurant, and holidays are always their busiest days, so he is always working and can't ever join us for meals.

Against this backdrop, we decided to have people over for Easter. I invited my grandmother, who said she wasn't sure she could come because she couldn't leave my uncle to celebrate the holiday alone. If he'd like to come, I said, he is welcome, too. She said she'd let me know. A few days later, she called me back and said she was coming. My uncle opted to stay home. Fine by me.

My brother said he'd try to stop by, but he didn't know when he'd get off or if he'd be able to make it. I encouraged him to try and told him all the other fun people who would be over and all the delicious food we'd be eating.

My parents accepted our invitation, as did Mike's best friend, who fits right into our family. So I knew we'd be at least 6 people. Mike did all the cooking-- scalloped potatoes, ham, asparagus, brussel sprouts, homemade rosemary bread-- except the dessert, which I made (pineapple upside down cake). My grandmother brought a (from scratch) lemon meringue pie, too.

Everyone gathered. The baby was sleeping at first so we made small talk and finished up the food prep. Michaela woke up and my mom and dad took her. My dad held her for a while and cooed and made sweet sounds and tickled her, which was lovely to see. Normally, I don't get to see that because he never comes over. Michaela got hungry, so my mom fed her. My grandmother and parents talked about Michaela and about how much she's growing, how cute she is, etc.

We'd just sat down to eat when my brother came in, along with his friend and roommate, who our family has known for, like, 20 years. He's practically a member of our family. Everyone was thrilled to see the two of them. It was the first time my brother had joined us for a holiday meal in ages, and the first time my grandmother has seen him in forever.

The conversation flowed and everyone laughed and ate. I felt like the baby, in particular, made a difference. People were happy to see her, happy to be around her. I feel like Michaela made everyone come together and made everyone predisposed to be in a good mood.

A few years ago, Mike and I went to his family's house for Christmas and this incident stuck with me. His cousin's two sons were riding their tricycles into the wall as fast as they could and Mike's uncle was cracking up. Mike and his cousin remarked that when they were kids, that wouldn't have been tolerated, and his uncle not only wouldn't have been laughing, he would have been yelling at and punishing them. But there's something about grandkids that makes stuff like that okay. I think of yesterday's dinner as the first time I've had that realization as it relates to my family.

I kvetch about my family sometimes (okay, a lot), but things like this Easter dinner make me appreciate that as weird as they are, they love us very much and we have fun together.

It's an Easter miracle!