Just a taste . . .

I've been trying to upload pictures, sort the ones that my mom emailed, and then weed through them.  Soon I'll do a big birthday post . . . but in the meantime, Maya really wants to do a mini-update . . . so I'm turning the computer over to her . . .

Ok, everybody, are you ready???

Well, I got to have the best 2nd birthday ever!  I played in a Maya-sized house:

Of course,  I got to bring my doggie, because he's my best friend!

Oh yeah, and Mom & Dad came too :)

Wait, what?!  Bedtime?!  But now I can't finish telling everyone about my birthday!  Mommy, this is the worst update ever!

Sorry, folks :)

Park, Dog Park, and Parker the dog

Mommy & Maya wear hats:                                       This is MY DOGGIE!!!

Sometimes I get to ride Parker . . . *

But he's so slippery!

And he's learning tricks, too:

*Disclaimer: We do not actually let Maya ride Parker.  Her entire body weight was being supported by me at all times :)

I've got big plans

I'm going to win the lottery.

So too bad for the rest of you suckers.  And don't start asking me for money once I win, either.  I don't know what I'm going to do with it yet, but it will probably be something amazing.  Here's the plan:

I've started rabidly hunting for change---on the sidewalk, in the gutter, at the park, everywhere.  I'm really good at it because I'm genetically programmed to be a treasure hunter (I imagine loud laughter coming from any blog readers who know my dad, king of the treasure . . . or should I say "treasure" . . . hunters.). 

I started earlier this week and since then I've found 5 pennies!  5! That's 1/20 of my way to a $1 lottery ticket.  And since the universe is bringing me this change, that must mean that the change will bring me the lottery. 

I think it's a done deal. 

I'll keep you updated on my growing loot.

PS-Only 3 days left til Maya's birthday!

PPS-I added some pics of the critters in the "About Us" tab

Blog in progress

Did you notice the new tabs at the top of the page?  Right at the top of this page, below the title, they say: Home, About Us, Contact Us.  I'm working on the blog slowly, trying to add new things to it.  Soon the "About Us" will have pictures.

Also, Maya thinks that you should bookmark this page (or "Add to Favorites") . . . that way you remember to check back on her antics frequently.  I promise to try to stay semi-entertaining.
Only 5 days until Miss Maya turns 2!

Weekend update

Friday:
Dave wins husband-of-the-year when he shows up from work bearing flowers, and a new Starbucks cup!  My old one (which was my 2nd) had a small crack somewhere, and coffee was trapped between the plastic layers and starting to get gross.  I have 2 big iced coffees per day, so it's hard to live without, and stupid Starbucks does not make enough of these cups to go around (the smaller ones are less tough to find---but I need venti).  He put the flowers in the cup (like a vase) and I was so psyched about the flowers that I didn't even realize I was holding a new cup.  Hee hee.  Well done, Dave :)

Saturday:

I had a great time reuniting with a bunch of girls from high school (I'm an all-girls Catholic high school survivor) back at the school for a cocktail party honoring an old friend of mine who passed away in 2008.  It was nice to actually catch up with people (vs. Facebook catching up with people) and see everyone again.  Also, it was lovely to get together and remember a wonderful friend.  I would share pictures of the event, except I didn't bring my camera.  (Actually, that's a lie, but it sounds more normal than "I brought my camera but was so busy yapping that I never took it out of the bag".)

Sunday:
Maya & I went into the city with Dave, who had a show.  We got to meet up with our friend Liz and her daughter, Leah, who we haven't seen in a while.  Leah was so cute, saying "Maya.  Maya, hi." :)  Maya was her usual self---shy and silent for 3/4 of the visit, then suddenly coming alive and wanting to play right at departure time. 

And then there was LOST. 

Monday:

I'm suffering from a LOST hangover.  I got way too excited (and confused) this morning when I saw an email from LOST in my inbox . . .  which I then realized was from LOFT (as in, Ann Taylor LOFT).  Talk about being deflated.  And I thought I pretty much wrapped my head around everything until a conversation with a friend left me wondering if I had misunderstood the whole deal.  Sigh.

In an effort to distract ourselves, Maya & I did some art projects after this morning's busy-ness (PT, walk, dog park, OT).

She thinks finger paint is fun (and tasty, if you noticed the spots on her lip) . . .

I'm not sure, but I think she may have rubbed her eye while I wasn't looking . . .

After finger painting, we tried walking with the stroller, which worked out pretty well!  Maya, walking solo, for the first time ever on tape:   (At the end I ask her to say "Hi, Daddy!" and she actually does sign it---a quick wave for "hi" and then the sign for "Dad".)





And Parker is growing like a weed.  Here is the picture from the day after we got him, and one from 1 month later.  Ignore the fact that Maya looks drunk in the second picture, it was the end of a long day :)

The Adventures of Maya and Daddy

Today we went swimming, and Maya loves it so much that I could upload a trillion pictures of her smiling like a loon . . . but here are a few . . .

Oh Daddy, I love the pool . . .

Hi Mom!

Throw me higher!

Wheeeee!

 And, in other super cute news, Maya learned how to give kisses :)  Can I get a collective "Awwwww!"

Talking (well, kind of) & talking (well, kind of)

Two talking stories:

1.  The other night I went to check on Maya on my way to bed, and could quickly smell that she needed a diaper change.  Ugh.  I didn't want to wake her up, so I tried to carefully lift her, lay her on the changing pad, and change her.  I was gingerly moving her around and her eyes were closed, but she kept shaking her head from side to side.  Then I saw her hands moving, and when I looked to see what she was doing, she was signing "More, more, more!"   I could barely suppress my laughing as I went to tell Dave:  "She was just talking in her sleep!!!"  Priceless :)

2.  As far as actual babbling goes, if you ignore Maya long enough she may start talking.  I know that a lot of folks have never actually heard her, since she's kind of a quiet watcher around a lot of activity, so here's a video from dinner today: (By the way, no need to adjust your volume---it takes her a while to warm up, be patient.  And I have no idea what she was trying to tell me, but it may have been about the crumbs on her tray.)



Also, to prepare Maya's dinner I had to leave her unattended for about 2 minutes.  When I peeked into the living room this is what I saw:

(I can almost hear Parker thinking "Oh, she's coming!  You're going to be in troub-ble!")

(Dave pointed out that this whole episode is very "Calvin & Hobbes")

More hair drama, and Scrabble Pt. 2

Today was round 17 (ok, really, round 5) of attempting to cut Parker's hair.  The electric clippers that we bought aren't strong enough (we got "medium" and apparently we need "heavy duty") so I reverted back to using scissors, and did as much trimming as I could while outside at the park. 

Clipping away:

It might be hard to see the difference in pics, but there's a big one.  The fluff is gone, replaced by the softest little curls.  It's like having a sheep.

                 Before:                                                                               After:

If you look closely, you can see little white splotches in the grass.  That's Parker's fur (I bagged as much as I could scrape up, and figure the rest will be gathered by birds to pad their nests.).

Parker!  Get off my lap!  (Maya is eating a sticker in these pictures.  And, what's the deal with perspective?  Why does Parker look gigantic in one picture and tiny in the other?)

You may remember that back in the day, Dave made a scrabble board shadowbox with the Nieder family names.  After we got Parker, Dave realized that his name would fit across the bottom of the board . . . but, alas, we had thrown away our extra tiles.  I mentioned this on a message board, and one of the lovely ladies  (thank you!!!) there offered to mail us the letters . . . and here's the finished product!

Well, this doesn't seem fair

I'm losing my hair.

Have you ever heard someone say something like "These kids are going to make me lose my hair"?  I always thought that it was just a crazy thing that old people say.  Like when someone says that if you sneeze with your eyes open your eyeballs will pop out (that's not true, right?  Anyone willing to test it out?).  But, in reality, it seems like Maya is making my hair fall out.

 In clumps. 

And now I have bald patches. 

And pictures to prove it.

Before we get to the pictures, let's take a moment to dwell on how much this sucks.  I don't want to lose my hair.  I don't want to have giant bald patches.  I had a full on panic attack (with tears and a hysterical can't-catch-your-breath-hiccupy-kind-of-conversation with my mom) yesterday afternoon about it.  This morning I went it to the dermatologist, who said that I have alopecia areata (fancy latin name for bald patches, caused by an autoimmune response in which my body is attacking the hair).  She injected me like a million times (ok, somewhere between 35-60---I lost count because she kept talking to me) with cortisone, which will make my body stop attacking the hair follicles so that new hair can grow in.

My googling tells me that this type of hair loss is often caused by a major stressor a few months prior, which totally makes sense to me.  A few months ago I was cycling through the stages of grief, coming to terms with the fact that Maya's disabilities may not be as short lived as I had hoped.  I was depressed, I was finding a support group, I was changing her therapists.  I was kind of a mess for a few hours everyday.

But how unfair is that----that you go through a traumatic time, and then a while later lose your hair?!  What the hell.  Seriously.

So hopefully I'm going through a big shed, and the hair will come back rapidly.  Dave asked me yesterday (mid-panic attack) if I'm stressed about things now, and through my tears I laughed and pointed at my head and said "Yes!  My hair!"

But I've got to at least put it out here.  I often things of the Indigo Girls saying "You have to laugh at yourself, because you'd cry your eyes out if you didn't."  And so, expect balding jokes, people.  And, if things get any worse, expect some unique fashion statements (would it be weird to glue a flower to the top of my head?  or color my patches with magic marker?).

And now, pictures:

A bald patch in the front, along the part:  (try to ignore the frames without pictures that adorn our bathroom)

The biggest and scariest patch.  I hate to even look at this.  Thank goodness I'm fairly tall and have enough hair to change my part around and cover it.

Luckily, I still have a lot of hair.  And with some part maneuvering, I can minimize damage. 

If this is the worst that it gets, it's not really a big deal and somewhat funny.  But I'm kind of stressed out about it getting worse.  Oh crap, I'm not supposed to get stressed, it makes my hair fall out. 

Oh, irony.

Speaking of irony, I used the new clippers to shave (or attempt to shave) Parker today.  35 minutes in, I'm sweating, he's panting, there's so much fur in my bathtub that it looks like I killed a sheep, and he still looks like this:

I think he's taunting me.

Parker's first haircut

Disclaimer: I do not know how to cut a poodle's hair (yet).  I will learn (because it's good to learn new things, because grooming provides an opportunity to bond with your dog, and because we can't afford to shell out the big bucks every few weeks for a stylish new doggie do).  I'm going to buy a clipper kit and video. 

However, in the meantime, poor Parker was so shaggy I began to wonder if he could see. 

So I bought some round-tips scissors at the drugstore, and gave him a bone to chew on.  Then I contorted myself around his chewing head and did my best job trimming what I could.

The results definitely need some cleaning up, but my goal was just to shorten the fur without making it an unpleasant experience for him, since it was my first trimming attempt.  Poodle owners everywhere may be shuddering at my butcher job, but he doesn't seem embarrassed (and I couldn't care less!):