Hit by a Pitch

Curling. I love watching the Olympics because, like dim sum, it gives me the opportunity to try things I might not have otherwise discovered (although I’ve never had dim sum because it doesn’t seem like it would really work for vegetarians). During the 2008 summer Olympics, I learned that I really like boxing, which was a shock. During the 2010 winter Olympics, I discovered my new sports love: curling. I’m sure it’s predictable that: (1) I’d get fished into a weird, obscure little sport; (2) I visited the website of the company that makes the Norwegian men’s pants (if I had more disposable income, I would’ve ordered the women’s version); and (3) I’m already looking forward to taking a “learn to curl” class in a couple months.

The one bad thing about liking curling is that I’m very annoyed by people who make fun of it (which is not the same thing as people saying they don’t understand curling). If I had $1 for every sports person who has made fun of curling in the past two weeks (blah blah you might as well put bowling in the Olympics blah blah it’s so stupid blah blah boring WTF), I’d have ordered those $90 pants by now. Here’s the thing about being a sports fan (I realized this the other day when I was about to make fun of NASCAR): if you’re a fan of any sport, you really don’t get to make fun of any other sport. For example, I was going to say something like, “Whooo boy, NASCAR is so stupid. Who wants to watch a bunch of cars driving around in a circle all day?” Aside from the fact this already has been said 10,000,000 times and just isn’t funny, all sports are pretty much pointless. I’m happy to watch guys run up and down a field trying to get a ball into an end zone or guys running around on a court trying to put a ball in a hoop; these pursuits are no more interesting or meaningful than watching cars drive around in circles all day. So if you’re a sports fan, please don’t make fun of curling.

Soren’s new activity center. Before Soren was born, I was the special kind of pretentious, fuckwad parent who thought I’d give my child only rustic, wooden toys lovingly handcrafted by the Danish women’s curling team during the off-season. We ended up with a bunch of plastic stuff, some of which makes noise. The first shock came when I realized I really like the music the pack ‘n play plays (awkward sentence!). The second shock came when I realized I’m a lot more laid back about this shit than I thought I’d be (which is good, because otherwise I would’ve been a very tedious, humorless hippie parent). I wasn’t sure about getting an exersaucer-like thing, but I ordered this guy the other day, after reading tons of stuff on the internet about how much babies like exersaucers. It arrived yesterday and, holy hell, the little guy loves it. He’s still a little small for it and can’t play with everything yet, but he can spin the little spinny things and I’ve never seen him laugh as much as he does while he’s in there. It’s so freaking cute you can’t even stand it.

Cheesecake. I never had a big sweet tooth until I got pregnant. I thought it would go away after Soren was born. It didn’t. The biggest, most delicious object of my affection has been cheesecake. (Like pizza, I prefer cheesecake in its purest form, with no additives or toppings.) I even bought a cheesecake cookbook and a springform pan, but I still haven’t made one. (“Make a cheesecake” was one of the items on my early labor to-do list; I ended up being way too much of a wuss during early labor to bake or do much of anything but sit on the couch and watch football.) I have to do this soon, while I still have the excuse of being a lactating mom who needs the extra calories.

People having babies. I just found out that a blogger whose work I really enjoy is working on adopting a baby, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me tear up just a little. Of course I’m all about babies these days, and I love the idea of new people entering this crazy little world. (Also surprising, from someone who never liked babies and imagined she’d like her own baby but nobody else’s: I like other people’s babies. I think babies are awesome. WTF?)

New IPAs. B and I both really like IPAs. In the past few weeks, we’ve tried new IPAs from New Belgium (Ranger) and Left Hand (400 Pound Monkey). Both are good, and we’re always excited to find new beers we like. (Sorry for being annoying and saying “we” here like I’m speaking for B, but we’re both beer dorks.) Oskar Blues has a new imperial IPA (Gubna), but we haven’t tried it yet (they had some at the Big Beers Festival but ran out before we got any). I love Oskar Blues and think their Gordon is the best beer in the entire universe, so I can’t wait to taste this one. It’ll be out (in cans, of course) on March 1.

Holy crap, Soren is four months old!

I could tell you a bunch of shit about how these have been the most awesome four months of my life, but I don’t talk like that. I’m always afraid anything I say about him or being a parent is going to make me sound like one of those smug parents everybody hates. (I guess that’s slightly better than the current crop of shock-parents, who go on and on about how everything is so hard and sucky, but still not something I’m going to do.) I always mean to write here more than I do, but it’s hard for me to figure out what to say that isn’t smug-annoying but also isn’t boring-ass “here’s what we did today” crap.

In the very early days when I was a little freaked out (I mean, dude, I hadn’t touched a baby in years and I changed diapers a few times when I baby sat when I was like in early high school, so I went into this totally unprepared and, honestly, I didn’t even really like babies), I kept looking forward to shit. Like, I can’t wait until he can smile, hold his head up, and laugh. Now he can do all those things and it’s totally as awesome as I thought it would be. But the thing is these awesome things come so fast it’s unbelievable. I don’t want to waste any more time wishing for anything that’s going to happen in the future. Sure, it’ll be cool when we can put Soren in the jogging stroller and run around the park, or when we can take him sledding or feed him sweet potatoes or whatever, but I’m going to enjoy everything he’s doing now instead of thinking about that.

Babies are great lessons in impermanence. As soon as you get used to one thing, they change. It’s like those sand mandalas Buddhists make — full of effort and gorgeous and then set free in a river. Not that you set babies free in a river, but you get what I’m saying, maybe. I know that one day, I’ll have a hard time remembering all the times he fell asleep in my arms while I sat on the couch watching curling or doing whatever. It’s all bittersweet, because you recognize how fleeting it is while you’re in it, and now I’m starting to sound like one of those parents I promised I wouldn’t become, gushing and already being sad that he’s going to grow up and everything I love about him will be different.

I guess it makes sense that, as much as I have to figure out how to be a parent, I have to figure out how to write about being a parent (or, honestly, whether it’s worthwhile for me to write about being a parent, something that nine-bazillion people on the internet already do, some of them much better than I ever will). I probably will, for no other reason than to make a record of this stuff so I can look back on it one day and really remember it. Because it’s pretty amazing.

This is the first in what I hope will be a regular feature, if you can call anything I write here a “feature.”

Apple & Brie sandwiches. This is my current food obsession. I usually get one from Udi’s when we have a meeting at work, but I’ve started making my own, too. The ingredients are as follows:

• two slices of dense, preferably crispy bread (nuts optional but good); currently, I’m using Private Selection Harvest Grain from King Soopers (Udi’s uses their own walnut bread, which is to die for)
• enough slices of Brie to cover a slice of bread (I err on the side of using too much, which always is my problem with cheese)
• a little scattering of chopped walnuts over the Brie (optional)
• thinly sliced apple (I recommend gala apples for this; you won’t use the whole apple for one sandwich; I always share the extra with the dogs)
• nice greens of some sort (I’ve been using spinach, but any mixed greens that are fancier than iceberg would be fine)
• a generous amount of honey mustard

Baby clothes. Baby clothes are a good lesson in impermanence; I absolutely love them but they don’t last long because Soren grows out of stuff so fast. My current favorite is a jumpsuit from Old Navy. It’s white and covered with gray script that says, “I love Mommy. I love Daddy. I love Everybody. Mommy loves me. Daddy loves me. Everybody loves me. I am loved.” Yes you are, little guy.

Places I’ve lived. I’ve always thought that places are as important as people — where you live is like a character in your life. Sometimes I get all nostalgic and start missing places I’ve lived, most of which are awesome. Favorites include the Andersonville neighborhood of Chicago (awesome gym practically across the street, Ann Sather cinnamon rolls and omelets, funky little stores, super-cheap artichoke or spinach and feta pockets plus fresh figs for dinner, restaurants with belly dancers); Oak Park, IL (the most beautiful place I’ve ever lived, Thai food, Italian food, Indian food, pizza, fresh pumpkin loaf, FOOD; walking to and from the train or the el, the farmers’ market, long late-night walks and the random cats you encounter on the way; the Green Line from start to finish, architecture, everything green in summer ); Nederland, CO (dark starry nights, the amazing silence of a tiny mountain town, unpaved streets, dogs everywhere, SNOW, satellite internet because that’s all you get up there, cute little houses, early dinners because stuff doesn’t stay open late, the gym [now gone] next to the beer store). I really hope to get back to Chicago this year (we used to go once a year but didn’t make it in 2009).

Plans for good weather. I’ve always liked winter, but having a fresh new baby is making it very hard for me to appreciate snow and cold. I am so looking forward to even the little things we do every year when it’s nice outside; it’s nice to have a new appreciation for these things:

• Rockies games
• beer gardens (I’m sure a baby can enjoy sitting outside while mom and dad have a frosty beverage)
• shopping for and planting flowers and vegetables
• Ben grilling while I sit at the table in our backyard and DJ on my computer
• long walks in and around the neighborhood (looking forward to when Soren is old enough for the super-awesome jogging stroller and it’s nice enough outside to use it)
• City Park Jazz
• the Rubber Duck Race in Boulder
• hanging out in the yard in a tiny, inflatable pool on really hot days
• hiking in the mountains, followed by beer and pizza at Oskar Blues (I really want to take Soren to Sandbeach Lake, which is just about the best place I’ve ever been)
• ‘hood noises, including the silly music and the car alarm that goes off every time a truck drives by (which will annoy me very much after I hear it a few times this year)
• exploring new stuff downtown.

Our neighborhood. Okay, so we live in the ‘hood. I maintain that, one day, this will be an up-and-coming area — it’s showing signs of this already. Fortunately, in our neighborhood, people are buying houses and fixing them up, instead of tearing them down and building ugly-ass McMansions and/or townhouses, like they’re doing in fancier neighborhoods like Wash Park and the Highlands. I’m happy that our neighborhood is getting a little nicer without losing its character, because the character is one of the reasons we like it here (well, that and the fact that we can afford to live here).

B is working on a new mix as we speak, and I just realized that I never shared his last mix. That one is called WTF 2010 and you can download it here. It’s over an hour of awesome music, free!

Enjoy!

What do you wear on a day you might find out your baby has a serious health problem (something that starts with a “c” and ends with, well, you know)?

I went with the usual “I don’t really care” outfit, which for me consists of Victoria’s Secret “pink” sweatpants (I know, fashion police, hunt me down, spray me with mace, swear at me, make me get down on the ground, put me in your SUV, offer me a cigarette, and drive me off to jail while referring to me as “brah”), a t-shirt from Urban Outfitters that says “St. Tropez” on it, Converse All Star low tops, a Ben Sherman athletic jacket, and my default glasses. If I’m going to sit around all day waiting to get either very good or mindblowingly bad news, I at least want to be comfortable. Lipstick but no eye makeup.

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