"He has your eyes"

He wears them beautifully. I wish I could slap on some waterproof SPF 90 and take a swim in his deep blue irises. (Does that sound like I'm complimenting my own eyes? I don't mean to, vain though I am.)

I hope against hope that he only has my eyes on the outside, and that the important "seeing" parts of his eyes come from his daddy.

I am horribly nearsighted. Whenever someone complains, "I have horrible vision," I throw down. "What's your prescription?" Inevitably, it's: "Negative two!" "Negative one point five!" even "Negative five!" to which I scoff "ha-HA! Negative ten in contacts, negative thirteen in glasses!"

It's a contest (yes, I'm competitive about it - one must maintain a sense of humor about these things) that I almost always win. Oh, I know there are negative-twenties out there who have bragging rights on me, but as far as folks that you meet on the street, my eyeballs are as long as any you'll see. Lasik is not an option for me. Eyeball transplant is, but I don't think it's been invented yet (Matt, this is how we will make our fortune!)

So. Seven years ago this week, I had a retinal detachment in my right eye (I can only imagine that my eye, in its quest to continue to stretch and grow, finally took a bit of retina with it kicking and screaming) and a tear in my left. Both were repaired by a doctor with a laser (a very nice and super attractive doctor) in what I call "The most painful supposedly-painless outpatient procedure in existence." I'd sooner go through childbirth again. You have to force yourself to keep your eye wide open while a bright greenish white light burns the back of your eyeball. The next day I had a bloody spot on my sclera (and the day after that Matt proposed to me in NYC - a whole 'nother blog). Anyway, I now have a permanent blind spot in the top left corner of my field of vision in my right eye. It bobs and flashes and kind of looks like a tiny moonlit pond up there, but not the romantic kind. (You know how moonlit ponds are black but their little ripply waves are shiny and silvery and glittery?)

Anyway, I haven't had a tear or detachment since, but I do have degeneration, so about every six months to a year I get a new flasher or floater and have to go in to the doctor to get it checked out. The other day I noticed an eyelash-shaped flashy black thing to the right of the center of my field of vision, so I went in to my very nice new ophthalmologist, who said that my retinas are fine, but "there IS some activity."

Activity? Apparently there is some kind of fancy protoplasm that fills your eyeballs called the "vitreous" something-or-something. This part of my eye is gradually drying up and shrinking away like a grape turning raisin (I think everyone's does this, but maybe not) and because my eyes are so long this has the potential to cause a chunk of my retina to sort of collapse into the negative space. Am I right, doctor friends? In lay-ophthalmic-hypochondriac's terms, anyway?

So. I'm writing all of this to say that this is why my heart aches a little when people say "He has your eyes." Because I love that he looks like me, but I don't want him to have to go through what I've been through with my vision.

Plus, I kind of wanted him to have his daddy's light-green eyes because they are my favorite eyes ever.

I'm dilated and Leo is swinging:

Status blogging

Often during the day I think of little things I want to say and I use them as Facebook status updates. I think I'm going to change it up and start putting them on here instead. Maybe it will encourage me to blog more, and be of interest to people who might come here specifically to see what's up with me (I'd like to know who does, just out of curiosity) rather than people who just see a Facebook status that may or may not be interesting to them but they read it because I threw it up there.

So, here is my Minnesota trip via Facebook status updates rearranged into blog form.

Flying alone with my infant on Friday the 13th; this is gonna be great!

Matt and I started dating ten years ago today. I really, really love him.

Today is one of those perfect, green, clear, fresh-smelling Northern Minnesota days. Beautiful. I'm so happy to be here enjoying it on Facebook in my parents' computer room with the blinds down. (Really) [That "(really)" was "really, that's what I'm doing" not "really, I'm glad I'm inside." Just in case you can't decipher my genius sarcasm skillz.]

Rangers: Dave's or Poor Gary's? I really need you to answer before the apocalypse. The Northside Bonners had one of each tonight. The decision was not apocalypse-related.

My mom, my grandma and my brother are all wearing black skinny jeans. Apocalypse?

Bring it on down to Liquorville

I can't believe 10 days went by so quickly! I had such a lovely time with Leo at my folks' and now I'm really ready to see my husband tomorrow.

Love the Hibbing airport. Free coffee and TSA agents who help carry baby stuff and brought me a kleenex when I said goodbye to the folks.

Of all of my favorite memories of my recent trip to MN with Leo...

...the best is: my mom, in the other room, rocking Leo and singing "Born This Way."

Mothers' Day

Matt is on call for 30 hours and at this very moment I am simultaneously pumping (yay for the backpack pump!), entertaining a baby (really, he's next to me laughing at me and playing with toys), eating lunch, and, now, blogging. Yay me! Send me some flowers.

my buddy

Leo & me (and Coach Tanaka)

Staying put, and other thoughts

I'm staying here, on Blogger, for now.

This blog isn't really for your entertainment anymore. Like many of my other blogging-mom-friends, now I'm blogging sort of as a "baby book" for myself and for Leo, I guess. And also updates for those who are interested. (I'm not fooling myself - most of this info is really only interesting to family and close friends. But be my guest and read away, if you wish.)

So. Leo is 16 weeks old. He'll be 4 months next Saturday. I can't believe my baby is getting so big. He weighs over 14 pounds and is already wearing 6-month clothes. His little body is shaped like a mini version of his Papa's - long torso, very muscular. He looks like a mini muscle man when he is naked (and he is sooooo cuuuuuute naked).

He is getting so strong and so mobile. He can roll both ways now, though he's startled by it about half the time and thrilled the other half - it's a coin toss. He loves loves LOVES when I sing and instantly joins in cooing. He grabs everything and it goes straight to the mouth. Not necessary INTO the mouth, just "AT" it. Everything is mouth these days. Drool, smile, laugh, suck. He loves when I blow zerberts on his tummy or tickle it while saying "TEEKLE TEEKLE TEEKLE." He'll belly laugh for that.

Baby belly laughs...the best sound ever. Could there be anything better than knowing your baby is happy and joy-filled and learning, every day? It seems that my dramatic child may take after me - sometimes we can distract him mid-meltdown and make him giggle until he is sobbing and laughing at the same time. The old actor trick.

He wakes up twice to eat at night, still the same. Sometimes he wakes up and needs to be soothed back to sleep, otherwise he is pretty good at putting himself to sleep and getting back to sleep after he wakes up. SO awesome.

That's about it in our lives. I was going to write down some of my thoughts on motherhood but the baby is crying, so bye. As a parting gift, I leave you with this image: me, home alone with Leo after one of Matt's call shifts, simultaneously hearing the telltale sounds of a poop and a barf and finding my leggings covered in both (not my own). Ah...motherhood. When they talk about "that new-mother glow" what they are really saying is that your skin looks shiny because it probably has baby saliva on it.