Life Is Pretty, Dirty

Happy April!

I'm too late for April Fools (and I've never been good at thinking up good pranks anyway. Here are some recent shots of Marlo that will make you smile. Nowadays she has two main expressions: serious or  laughing/smiling. Well...maybe I should say three, since sometimes she's just angry (we don't take many pictures of that one.) There's also the goofy face, which is pretty fun too.

Also, check out my friend ana's virtual bake sale to benefit Strength.org, which helps eradicate childhood hunger.

Me But Not Me

Lately I've spent way too much time daydreaming about what my life would be like if I hadn't had a stroke on September 25, 2007. seeing pictures of myself pre-stroke often provokes this pointless fantasizing. I would have been back at work at the magazine for over a month by now, in the thick of planning the July issue. I would have joined a moms' group with other new moms in my area, and I might know a lot more women with babies Marlo's age who I could call up to meet for coffee or a stroll around our stroller-infested neighborhood.
My house would be a lot less dusty. I might have learned to knit. I certainly wouldn't have been as delinquent about sending thank-you notes to everyone who sent us baby gifts.

That's the daydream anyway, and it's too easy to torture myself with it. On the other hand, I might not have discovered the depth of kindness understanding, compassion,  and caring of which our friends and family are capable. I might not have  have discovered what a wonderful, easygoing companion my mother-in-law is.

And I I might not have found absolute, solid confirmation that Lew is my soul mate after all, a true friend, a kind, gentle, ultra-patient spouse, and a wonderful father to Marlo.

Of course I wish I hadn't had the stroke, but this is who I am now, luckier than I thought possible. Those old  photos are me but not me. Maybe someday I'll find that person again and jump back into her skin.

how to eat with no teeth

Since her 6-month birthday is coming up on March 11, we started Marlo on rice cereal, which she seemed to like, although we discovered she likes the baby food bananas even better. (Question: Why are pureed bananas sold as baby food pinkish instead of cream-colored like actual bananas?) And they stain like crazy!

Of course, she only has one tooth (and it's barely poked through her bottom gumline), so she can't chew anything, but she's pretty good at gumming the

mushed up stuff. Such is life at 6 months old.

Marlo Is 5 months old!

Here she is...a little pink-cheeked sweetie. She's not crawling yet, but she can lift herself up on her arms when she's on her tummy, so we figure once she figures out how to maneuver her chubby legs back and forth, she'll be off and crawling. Her favorite activities these days are drooling, trying to put everything in her mouth
(even large items that can't possibly fit) and giggling with her dad and Nonna (Grandma Lorraine) when she's on the changing table.

Leslie is 36--ugh!

It's not as fun as reporting that Marlo is 5 months old, but birthdays are part of life and I guess each February 8 from now on will bring me closer to 40 (boo hoo). To celebrate my march toward middle age, we made a family outing to Fenton's Creamery on Piedmont Ave. here in Oaktown. Look at the yummy birthday sundae Lew and I shared (next year I won't be able to keep Marlo from digging in along with us, I'm sure.

Just for good measure, here are a couple more photos--one of M in the sunglasses she got in her Christmas stocking (yes, she actually wears these when we go out for walks in the stroller on sunny days. And here's a shot of Marlo and Lew on New Year's Day watching the Rose Bowl game. Lew looks serious here, but he was much happier later after USC romped Illinois.

And lastly, another recent picture..this was taken in her new ExerSaucer, which is an explosion of pink plastic and circus-like sound effects

You Just Have to Laugh

there's nothing funny about havung a stroke and losing most of the function on the left side of your body, but living in the hospital for 5 weeks nevertheless gave me plenty of things I couldn't help but laugh about - mostly at the absurdity of it all.First off, you get used to people ( nurses in particular) being obsessively preoccupied with your bladder and intestinal functions, specifically how many times you went to the bathroom, what you ate and drank, etc.Just as
we tracked Marlo's input and output when we first brought her home from the hospital, my ever-diligent nurses at Herrick kept track of how much I drank and ate, and where that food and drink went after my body had processed and expelled it. I got used o being asked every few hours: "have you had a bowel movement today??"If yes, the the standard follow-up was always: "small," "medium" or large?"Then:"hard, or soft?" '' After answering that question a hundred times, usually during a meal(not the best way to stimulate one's appetite) or while otherwise engaged in conversation or some other activity with a family member or therapist,
I ceased being mbarrassed and just had to laugh at the situation
In between answering that query and being presented with a stool softener with breakfast and dinner, which was always announced loud enough for everyone in a 3-foot radius to hear, I had to drop any pretense of being too shy or self-conscious to discuss such matters with and among total strangers. I just  Really, all I could do wasjust laugh.

I hope you can laugh too, especially if you visit me at home someday soon and happen to notice Leslie's Pee & Poop Chart hanging on the wall in the bathroom(no, not really .I"t'sjust my way of saying that while I don't miss living in  the hospital one bit, I am very grateful for the care and attention I received there.

And speaking of laughter, I challenge you not to chuckle when you look at thispicture of our wide-eyed little girlie, taken on 11/8/07, my second day home from the hospital

A Lesson in Patience

on Sept. 25, I suffered a right-hemisphere stroke as a result of a carotid dissection                  (that is,my carotid artry just came

e apart down the middle, as if it ewere being unzippe), After the stroke,I was left with very little movement and function on the left side of my body, including the left side of my face, which was a bit droopy.  After the stroke, I spent a week in the ICU at Eden Medical Center in Castro Valley. Since Oct. 4, I've been at the Herrick campus of Alta Bates, in Berkeley, which is a world-class neuro rehabilitation center.Today I can walk on my own without a cane or walker, which is pretty amazing and a testament to the physical therapy I've received while here.My left arm works, but my fingers, hand , and wrist are stll "asleep" for the most part. I can curl the tips of my fingers into the beginning of a fist, but not a full fist. Along the way, I have had to exercisenot only my body and mind, but also A LOT of patience, which was never one of my strong suits to begin with. Nothing happens fast enough for my liking, especially with regard to my arm and hand function. Lew is good about reminding me that just a week ago I couldn't move my fingers at all. In other words, every moment of my life is noe a lesson in patience. Waiting for my brain to heal, waiting for the connections to be remade. I've never been good at waiting, so it's been a hard lesson. Thank god for all of our friends and family, who have reminded me daily that they love me and support me by sending positive energy, thoughts (and delicious hmemade meals our way.I am eternally grateful forall of this and only hope that someday I can adequately express my gratitude or even come close to reciprocating. I am going home on Nov. 6. I'm not 100 % recovered (I'm typing this with my right hand, hence the typos), but all the therapists seem to think I will eventually.And patience. I I am getting better at it, especially being patient with myself. I'll get there eventually. And now I can get through the time between now and eventually, thanks to my newfound and more recently developed store of patience.

Special Stork Delivery

First lesson learned about parenthood: Don't make any plans. She wasn't due to arrive until Sept. 29, but Marlo Ayers Price decided to make her debut 18 days early on Sept. 11. Yep, 9/11. At first I had reservations about having a 9/11 baby...but, you know, the more I think about it, the cooler it seems. Not just that my daughter was born on this date, but for anyone out there with a birthday on 9/11. Life is, after all, cyclical. And when there are endings, there are also beginnings. And the world is full of good and bad - brand-new babies being on the plus side, obviously. So perhaps her birth on this date in some tiny way helps build up good karma in the world. God knows the world could use all the good karma it can get.

She weighs a mere 5 pounds, 6 ounces (checked at her first doctor's appointment today - up 2 ounces from when we brought her home from the hospital), but she has turned our lives upside-down. Did I expect this? Of course, but...with a first baby you just don't know what it's like, until you know what it's like. And so far what it's like is that every day is a different day. One day, we sleep. The next, not so much. And so on.

Babies and children teach us lots of lessons, but the important ones I'm learning are patience and to slow down. When I'm feeding her, if my mind starts to race ahead to all the stuff I can get done while she's napping after eating, I try to remember to tell myself to, A) get real, because I'm not going to get all that done in an hour, and B) just stop. Enjoy the feeling of rocking back and forth with a warm little body on your tummy. Burn the memory into your mind, I tell myself, and into your kinetic memory...because one day she might become a back-talking 16-year-old (or a back-talking 2-year-old, more likely). And I'll want to remember how uncomplicated things were when she was 8 days old and all she needed was food and the reassuring embrace of her mom and dad.

P.S. Can you tell I'm going to town with my new Nikon D40??

It's a Mad, Mad World

As I prepare to welcome my baby girl into the world, trying to remember to rest and put my feet up every few hours and thoroughly enjoying myself picking out cute little mini velour outfits that would make Fozzie Bear and Kermit the Frog proud...I can't help but take note of some really sad and stupid things that are happening in the world.

1) Spotted on 101 northbound headed toward Marin on Sunday afternoon: A Cadillac Escalade that had been fully detailed and blinged out...right down to a custom model label in the back. The truly cerebral owner of said vehicle had decided to proclaim to the world what he thinks of his car (and himself?) by changing the word "Escalade" to read SEXCALADE. I kid you not. And it made me think of something that a friend of mine sometimes says, as a joke of course, about people who just seem too dimwitted or too pointlessly petty to take up space on the planet: Why is he alive?

2) Spotted in Lafayette, visible from the 24 freeway, the memorial to the American soldiers who have died in Iraq thus far: And I think, These people are dead and Sexcalade guy is, well, still around, free to live and breathe and customize his gas-guzzling SUV to his heart's content.

I also think about how everyone starts as a tiny baby, exactly like the one we're going to have in our house very soon. And how wouldn't it be nice if we could remember that when dealing with fellow human beings. How nice it would be if we could all show each other a bit of the same type of care - and even awe - that we show newborn babies. Wishful thinking, I suppose. But it's a nice thought.

And We Have a Deck!

About 30 hours and two weekends later...we have a completed deck in our backyard! Thanks mucho to Lew's dad for spending his last three weekends here helping Lew and Kevin build the fence and deck. Of course, we have to add a railing so little kids (or tipsy adults) don't topple off the edge and crack their noggins open, but I think they'll save that for next weekend...

A Beautiful Afternoon

Last Saturday, my darling best friend Mary threw me a baby shower at her house in Glen Ellen. Twenty-plus wonderful women attended - family and friends - and it was such a treat to see everyone. Mary was a champion party-thrower. She had totally scrumptious food (including a chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream frosting - yum!) and great decorations. She and her hubby Gary have fixed up their backyard with lots of shady areas and a gorgeous garden, so we ate outside and talked, then went inside to play a few games (all of which were fun, not lame!) and open gifts inside. And what wonderful gifts they were - lots of practical things we need and lots of wonderful books and handmade things too. My friend and co-worker Robin gave me a hand-sewn teddy bear her mom Shirley had made - what a treasure!

Another highlight was receiving a handmade quilt that my grandma, Audrey, stitched by hand for baby Marlo. What a lucky girl Marlo is (and what a lucky girl I am too). I am going to figure out a pretty way to hang it on the wall in Marlo's room, so she can see it every day and know how much her great-grandma loves her.

Another highlight was a really unique activity Mary had everyone do. She made note cards and labeled them "6 months," "1 year," "2 years," etc., up to about 22 years old, so that everyone there could choose an age. Then people wrote a short note to Marlo, imagining she would open it on that birthday. These letters are filled with so much sage advice, fun reminders, and stuff to look forward to. Some excerpts:

For 2 years old, from Nonna (Grandma) Price: I can hardly believe you are 2 years old already. I remember how excited we were awaiting your birth. Now you are walking and talking. I am looking forward to your next visit...you can swim in the pool and eat ice cream. We'll take Sophie for a walk, read a book, and take a nap!

For 6 years old, from Ginny Jones (my friend Angela's mom and my surrogate mom): I hope you have a dog or some other special animal to be your pet.

For 7 years old, from Kimberly Blattner (a friend of my mom's): What all parents love is to have their child make them laugh. Tell your mom and dad jokes, wear disguises and funny hats, and learn magic tricks.

For 9 years old, from my mom: My hopes for you at age 9 are to ignore the media's pressure to grow up as fast as you can and try to be 18. Instead, find ways to play music and sing, hike in nature, draw and sculpt, and read and write as much as possible. Ignore boys for now and don't ever hide your intelligence.

For 13 years old, from Aunt Megan (Lew's sister, who also gave Marlo this adorable stuffed monkey): You will have so many questions about life and about who you are, and who you want to become. There will be so many paths that lie before you, which can be confusing at times, but you will choose the right ones. One day, you will realize that the paths you chose, even the steep and rocky inclines, were the only ones you could have chosen - because they will have shaped the beautiful and intelligent woman that you are sure to become.

For 15 years old, from my friend Kelly: You probably think you have most of life just about figured out by now...but you don't. Listen to your mother. She does actually know a thing or two. You'll see!

For 20 years old, from Donna, my friend Angela's stepmom (who I've known since I was about 10 and whose daughters I babysat and learned almost everything I know about babies from): 20 = better than 15, 16, 17, 18, and 19, but you are still likely to be confused about the best path to take...do what riles your particular passion. Most of all, start looking out and spend less time looking in. You will have a wonderful life!

Needless to say, what a lot of wonderful thoughts and comments for our baby Marlo. That's just a sample, and I can tell you it will give me just one more reason to look forward to her birth - and every birthday after that.