The Misses

I went to Chicago this week to see what there was to see. And do a little business. Or the other way around.

At the last second I made the decision to go alone. This Chicago trip was going to be stuffed like a Thanksgiving bird with meetings and rushings around. This trip to Chicago was no place for a baby. This trip was no place for a mommy. So I left them both at home.

There was duality in my decision to introduce the bottle to the babe. I wanted, I didn't want. I felt fine, I felt guilt. I love nursing because it means I am the only one in the world who is keeping the baby alive. I fear nursing because it means I am the only one in the world who is keeping the baby alive. Nursing keeps me sane, and nursing--as it turns out--makes me crazy.

But the minute I said good bye to her, all tucked into the safety of her pod in the car, I missed her. I missed her when I printed out my boarding ticket. Missed her going through security. Missed her waiting at the gate as we boarded to leave east over the fall-imprinted mountain range.

Missed her in Chicago as we walked on the riverfront parkway.

Missed her at dinner with my new BlogHer friends, an exotic mix of all things Asian (the dinner, not the friends). (The friends were an exotic mix of Irish New Yorker, Gay New Yorker, Chicagoan, LA Transplant and a Relief Society President from Herriman, Utah.)

And I missed her that night as I went to bed, when I felt my milk come in.

In the morning I met up with everyone at breakfast. We were an instant family of a corporate nature. It was like sharing the breakfast table with my siblings, teasing and story telling--a comfortable mix of two. While following a conversation, my eyes caught a baby newborn bouncing around at the next table. My instincts made me believe I could go ask the mother if I could please breastfeed her fussy baby, my lucidity made me stay put.

But just for a second or two? I battled and day dreamed of nursing.

When the day was done--a day of Pollack-like splats of conversation all over the place, I arrived at the airport to come home. My chest was tight with a two-day milk supply. It spared no pain in reminding me about home, about that baby and mom I had left behind. I could feel it pulsating with desire for relief. Ease. Draining.

On the plane ride home a man sat next to me. He was the same age as my dad. He looked like my dad. About thirty two minutes into the flight I started to miss my dad too. I had an extra newspaper and asked if he wanted to read it. He did. As I sat there my instincts told me to look at his hands, just to see if they were the same hands as my dad. I miss my dad's oval fingers and flat nails--hangnails that are promptly removed with his squinty eyes and precise teeth. But when I looked, the man sitting next to me had skinny hands with triangular nails.

Then he fell asleep. I could tell by his breathing and expanded body. Somehow his large chest slumped over and started to push against mine. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt.

But the missing. That hurt worse.

When I was home I checked on The Chief. He was curled up into a ball at the bottom of the bed. I moved him back to his proper place and tucked him in. Then I slowly opened the nursery door and peaked into the crib. I found her on her side--her white silky blanket tucked below her chin. I thought about all the things I could do to relieve my chest of the heaviness but decided to wake her up and give her the honor. It's all for her anyway.

And in the milk-letting, the mom was home again.
 




I am c jane and I am glad to be home. Like always.

contact me:

cjanemail@gmail.com
c jane on facebook 

c jane on twitter

Two Days without Mom

Chup here -

So, c jane  ("mom" to us)  was called away on some hoity-toity bloggeriffic trip to Chicago for two days and I (chup) was called upon to sit on the kiddies.

2 year-old: no problem.  6 month-old: terrifying.

So, I immediately called my parents who were going to be in town (see below for important event) to see if they'd stay a couple extra days. Unfortunately, Grandma had previous commitments...but Grandpa said he could help out. 

Day One:
After dropping Mom off at the airport, we met everyone at Denny's (it was close to the freeway, ok?) to celebrate.  My little bro MD, and his wife Kentucky had just finalized their little Peanut's adoption.  Congrats to them and big brother Phun!

  
Kentucky and Peanut.  It's OFFICIAL!  (snap by MD)


The Phun.


Denny's. 



Grandpa and I had to get some errands done, and enlisted the help of Little Einsteins, Wall-E, lots of books and maybe a McDonalds Playland to fill the day.



 Day Two:

More Little Einsteins, Smashburger and an epic walk. 

New Obsession: huffing and puffing after watching The Three Little Pigs on Little Einsteins.


Grateful for; Grandpa and his baby-whispering gift, Johnny Jump-up, baba-na-night, and Mom coming home safe tonight. 




BIG thanks to BlogHer for the invite and amazing trip!

- Chup

I Was Really Nervous, Even Though "It's Just the Tambourine"

Thanks to Brian Hardy (the Piano Man), Mindy Gledhill, Scott Wiley (The Mayor), Ryan Tanner and Chupastar. Oh and Ever.

Lowerlights.com








ever's p to the js:



Fall Festival notes from the trenches:

I am c jane and Mindy and I aren't always goofy. Just on Sundays.

contact me: cjanemail@gmail.com
or facebook.

To Mom & Dad in St. Louis: I am Doing My Part

Dear Mom and Dad,

Three years ago I took Steph's kids to the Fall Festival at their school. It was sensory overload: face painting, hair spraying, bouncy houses, family friendly hip hop blaring in the courtyard and blue cotton candy sticky fingers. It was hot, the lines were long and it all lent itself to lots of organic chaos.

As you can imagine, the kids LOVED it.

Also, as you could imagine, three years ago I was hoping their parent's would make a full recovery and be well enough to attend the next year because I was done with that scene.

But the next year (last year) Steph and Christian went to Chicago to meet a lady named Oprah. So again, I called up fresh courage and took the children to the Fall Festival.

And again, I said to myself, one more time BUT NEVER AGAIN.

Can you imagine Mom and Dad, that last week Steph emailed me again and asked if I could take her children while she went to have consultations in Arizona?

I said I would, but only if it wasn't over the FALL FESTIVAL.

Guess what?

Three years in a row.

Here is my personal report:


The theme was something like "Wasatch Rocks!" and there was a hard-to-miss rock-and-roll theme. Including karaoke. One fourth grader-looking girl sang a Miley Cyrus song that impressed the heck out of me. Well, I am from Utah so really NO ONE can impress the heck out of me. Heck will probably be with me until I die.


I paid to have a little something painted on The Chief's face, but due  to multiple traumatic doctor visits in the past week he didn't want any  sort of instrument of any kind around his body. So I stepped in and had a star painted on my cheek. When it was over the lady running the face painting booth apologized for the "cheap paints" and promised "better  face painting next year".  Later, I forgot all about that star until I  had to shoot a video with Mindy Gledhill and she said to me, "You still have a star on  your face." 

Take that sneeches, ON MY FACE.


Incidently, we also ran into The Chief's doctor there, but he didn't have any instruments with him, just his kids. The Chief was so relieved.


There were some tasty cupcakes which my nephew Van brought to me on a paper plate. I tried to balance them and the stroller while talking  to Mindy Gledhill. Finally she said, "You are going to lose the cupcakes" and I did. The white cinnamon cupcake fell right off the plate and on to the blacktop. I asked Chup if he wanted me to rescue it so he could eat it, but he looked at me like I was nutso. To heck with him, didn't they have the ten second rule where he grew up?

Gigs had two Capri Suns plus a snowcone. Best night of his life.



SLABpizza catered the event. That is a step up, I think.


The Chief and I were the only ones I could see dancing in front of the DJ booth. I was doing a self-conscious side stepping move and The Chief was trying to karate chop me. To each their own, right? But seriously, I am going to have to teach that boy some moves. You can't karate chop to "California Gurlz."


We lost Ollie. We found Ollie.Ollie had big tears.



Jane wanted her hair spray painted a cool color. Inexplicably she chose orange.



This was the first year Claire wanted to hang out independent of us. She floated around with her friends until all her tickets were used up. I think she had the most fun.

I think you'd like to know, our family was well-represented.

Matt was there with his family. I put him to use holding Ever while I waited in line for seventy-five hours to buy a snowcone for Gigs.



And the Checketts kids too, Winnie.



and Seth (plus posse).



Lastly, there as a lot of this going on:

Oh little men and their dramatics!

Well, I'd like to write more, but I've got to go upstairs and start counting all the blessings I've earned for three years of this endeavor. I am thinking if I do this again next year I can buy a mansion with faucets that pour out sparkling lemonade.

Ok?

Miss you!
Courtney Jane

Good Golly Ollie

This morning I took The Chief to a follow up check with the doctor. It was another intense visit where we had to examine how his lanced abscess is healing. The minute we entered "the room" my boy started screaming automatically--proving Pavlov's dogs. Except this time he actually fainted, as per his M.O when under duress. 

You know, I've seen him faint a hundred times but I will never get over the way his eyes roll in the back of his head as he is about to lose consciousness. That is the part that just about shreds my sanity. His body flips to autopilot and I can't do a thing to get him back because it's also the part where my motherhood powers are useless. I am afraid I will spoil that child rotten his whole life just to avoid seeing those eyes roll. Everyone else can do hard things, just not my Chiefy.

When he came to, I whispered in his ear the best news I could think of to share.

"Ollie is coming to our house today!" I said, rocking him back and forth, his head on my shoulder.

Gosh dang, why do I write these posts? Reliving the moment=tears.

And with this news his horrified soul regained some peace.

"Owie! I want Owie!"

Because to my son, there is no hero better than his cousin Oliver. Not a toy, not a show, not even a popsicle on tap can compare. Ollie is salvation. It was made apparent to me when we had to drive from house to house the other night so the distraught (and feverish) Chief could just be in his beloved Ollie's presence and be healed. Ollie was being babysat with his siblings at another cousin's house and we couldn't find them anywhere.

I called Chup on the phone after another house search proved unsuccessful.

"I know if I can just find Ollie, The Chief will be ok."

After following up on a few tips we found the crew. Ollie was quick to give The Chief a hug and it wasn't long after my son's fever dropped and he was buzzing around the house again with a new lease on his little life.


So after time spent passing morning's hours, we walked down to the school where we were to pick up Ollie from kindergarten. I will never, ever forget watching The Chief anxiously watching for his Owie to come around the corner It was like witnessing the return of a Mormon missionary at the Salt Lake Airport. And when we finally saw him--oversized backpack in hand, floppy hair and toothless smile, I will also never forget the bear hug that ensued between them.

They played all day until it was time to put Ollie to bed for his very important kindergarten good night's sleep. At that point, The Chief insisted that we put him to bed too. What's the point in staying awake if Ollie is asleep?

So after ten minutes of jumping on the bed, we called it a night.

Now I am thinking, I guess there are two places I can't quite reach my son, in the rolling-eyes-fainting moment and that area in his heart reserved for Owie. There isn't any room left in that spot for me.

the account of my monte cristo:



Just one of the little reasons I love this town:

I am c jane and Ollie is my hero too.

contact me: cjanemail@gmail.com
or facebook.

Dear Blog Fellows,

Chup and I finally figured out how to throw a dinner party without two of our biggest problems: I am overly-concerned about everything-from the place settings to the entertainment to the soup (is it hot? Too hot?) and Chup's sociality is limited because he's usually snapping eighty frames per second to insure that we had ample memories for years to come.


When Wendy got engaged to Travis I told her I wanted to throw her something nice, an intimate celebration with our close of closest friends. But I really wanted to enjoy it too. And Chup, I wanted to look him in the eyes during the evening. So, this is what we decided to do:


Start later in the evening when children are asleep for the night.





Asked our favorite local chefs (Andy & Simy Gartz from Rooster and Slab) to cater a five course meal:

(For the record, they made the most sublime mint ravioli called "Love Letters" with fresh tomato sauce drizzled on top. Holy dumpster.)


Chup did a dramatic reading to fulfill the entertainment portion of the evening:





Asked our always exceptional friend Justin Hackworth to come to take the evening's photos:






(Look at my little winky niece Vera, I love her. Plus I like how Ever and Vera share the same letters.)


Speaking of Ever, make sure she is on the invite list, she is a crowd pleaser, plus edible if dessert doesn't work out:





Lastly, make everyone pose for a group shot, just like prom in 1994:





It was so fun. Remember my tips ok?

Wishing you all happy dinner parties,

c jane




For Andy's services (and ravioli) call: 801-822-1878

A note, about hiring a photographer: I have a testimony of hiring a non-family photographer for family/friend functions. I can't tell you how many times I wished I had better photographs of happy occasions. I get grumpy just thinking about those wasting opportunities. Ugh. UGH. Argh. When it comes down to it, I'd rather have Chup experiencing these times with me instead of behind a camera. You know? Anyway, just a thought.


Thanks Justin!




p.s.

We are almost one week away from another concert in the Rooftop Concert Series this time with Libbie Linton and the Lower Lights!

un petit goût:

Secret Prayer from The Lower Lights on Vimeo.