Hello, Internet

Toothy!, originally uploaded by JenSig.

I know, it's been kind of a dry couple of months here on my blog (particularly since the death of the database in my blog's last incarnation, which means the current amount of posts makes it look like I'm a total newbie to this whole blog thing).

Anyway. Me. Us. Where have I been? Seems like summer should be the months I would have LOADS of time to sit and post blog entries every day — no, TWICE a day! Look at all this free time I have! But, sadly, that isn't the case. We are busy busy busy... surf camp and swimming and impending vacation and parents coming to visit (hi, mom and dad!), and, quite frankly, the little bit of quiet time I have wherein I MIGHT choose to sit here posting, I'd rather play with Isla and the kids.

I mean, really. Look at those cheeks and tell me you don't want to bite them. As I post this, she is sitting there on the floor next to me, babbling away, playing with her toys, happy — and cheerful — as can be.

So I gotta go now... I have baby cheeks to nibble on and a pudgy belly to tickle.

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

So today I overheard Owen telling something this: "So you know, (Insert name of teacher here) isn't coming back to our school next year."

"Why is that, Owen?"

"Because, um... Barack Obama? He's getting rid of all the republicans."

Blink. Blink. I decided to interject: "Uh, well.... that's not exactly true. The state of California doesn't have any money, which unfortunately means that some really great teachers don't have jobs this fall."

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

Monthly Newsletter — Month 7

Love this girl
Originally uploaded by JenSig

Dear Isla,

Today is your 7-month birthday, and also happened to be the day you got baptized. That blessed event was... well... INTERESTING, to say the least. When Owen and Edie were both baptized, the water was poured gently over the tops of their heads, and the anointing with the oil was just a small sign of the cross made on the backs of their necks and the tops of their heads.

Well... I guess it's true that every officiant will perform the ceremony his own way. Today, the priest gleefully poured three huge scooping handfuls of water down your entire head (into your eyes and mouth, too), which had you sputtering in indignant anger; then the anointing of the oil came, and imagine my surprise when he poured literally a beaker full — about two measuring cups or more — of warm, scented oil all over your entire head. Fortunately none got into your eyes or mouth, but let's just say that you were Less Than Pleased.

In any event, it was a beautiful and special service, followed by a lovely brunch here at our house, with family and loved ones surrounding you.

I keep thinking to myself what a blessing you are to me... you, who arrived at a time in my life when I didn't expect to have any more children; it's like God wanted me to have you.

In other news, you are scooting all over the room, able to do pushups with your arms but still haven't got the hang of getting up onto your knees yet. You make all kinds of great noises, like raspberries and squeals and "ohs" and "ahs." I love listening to you "talk" to yourself.

You met your new baby cousin for the first time last week, and you are very intrigued by him. He's still so small, that I think you must think he's like the baby doll you play with, the one you like to alternately cuddle with and gnaw on. Today at your baptism, you kept trying to reach for him, and once or twice you managed to get ahold of his arm and try and pull him to you. As always, I wonder what's going through your head at times like these.

The other new development with you (and something that's unique to you, as Owen and Edie never really did this) — is that you are becoming more and more "mommy-centric" — if I'm not around and someone else wants to hold you, it's fine, but if you can see me, it's all over; woe to the person who is holding you. This is mostly true when you are feeling a little tired and crabby, and I have to say, a small part of me secretly loves the way your eyes will instantly zero in on me if I'm in the vicinity, and love the way you reach for me... and especially love the way you lean into me, and your body relaxes once you're in my arms, imperiously looking back at whoever had the unfortunate position of having to give you up.

You make me want to hug you close and never let you go, sweet girl.

Love, Mama

Notes to my father

When I was a little kid, I started leaving my dad secret notes for him to find later. I think I started doing it because he would go away on business trips often, and be gone for days at a time, and I always liked the idea of him finding a special note from me tucked into his briefcase or the pocket of his coat.

The other day my dad sent me an email telling me that he was taking up playing the guitar again, and that he had retrieved his old black guitar case from his attic. When he opened it, he found this note tucked inside:

I think I must have been practicing writing in cursive. I have no memory at all of writing this note, but it gave me a good chuckle when I saw it.

Honest Planet v2.0

So my old blog kind of, well... died. Not sure what happened, other than the database became corrupted, and rather than try and rebuild it, I have decided to start anew, here on blogger. I am not going to bother with importing old posts for archiving, mainly because it would take me forever and a day to do that. (Sorry.) I am going to try and save them -- at least the ones I wrote for my sweet babies -- on my own, in a text or Word file, just so that I have them for posterity.

So here's to new beginnings and a fresh start.