Here's how to handle the paparazzi!

Baby C knows how to dodge those pesky photogs. Engage in a little peek-a-boo and they will give up!

The Recipe for Disaster...

This evening, Mr. Smith and I were discussing our upcoming family excursion. Suddenly, I was filled with that old sense of complete panic. What just a damn minute, this has all happened before!

Then I remembered. We have, in fact, tried traveling (just over night) with the H and Baby C. Mr. Smith considers this one of my greatest hits so I wanted to share it with all of you.

Here is the Smith fan-damn-ly in ALL their glory. Say a little prayer that you aren't in the room next to us any time soon.

Grammy and Pop Pop wanted to have the rugs cleaned. So, we decided to try a mini vacation at Disneyland. We thought it would be a fun little getaway. We could not have been more wrong. A warning: this is long. It took me a long time to write it, but it seemed so much longer when we were living it. Read it at your own risk!

December 3, 2008 approximately 11:57 am - The Smith family arrives at Hotel Hell. We were dropping off Mr. Smith’s car and then planning on heading to Disneyland for the day. When we arrive, we discover that they are resurfacing the parking lot and we will have to park 1/4 mile from the front of the stupid hotel and lug all our belongings to our room.



12:15 pm - We arrive at Disneyland.

1:33 pm - We have lunch.

4:57 pm - We decide to cut our losses and leave the park.

5:17 pm - We get into our room.

6:18 pm - The room is destroyed.


6:30 pm - Baby C goes to bed under extreme duress since we have no swing. Yes, she still sleeps the swing. I know, I know.

7:15 pm - We have dinner.


8:00 pm - I make the mistake of opening the sofa bed for The H and he proceeds to jump on it for the next 15 minutes while I yell at him to stop.

8:30 pm - I end up laying down with him on The Most Uncomfortable Sofa Bed in All of Humanity. The H finally goes to sleep, turns out he snores.

9:00 pm - I very quietly (not really) get out of The Most Uncomfortable Sofa Bed in All of Humanity and sneak into our bed. I am almost crippled due to the wafer thin mattress on The Most Uncomfortable Sofa Bed in All of Humanity.

10:40 pm - Baby C wakes up screaming. I am somehow able to nurse her and get her to go back to sleep briefly.

December 4, 2008 approximately 2:18 am - Baby C wakes up crying. I try to nurse her, but this time, no dice. She just escalates to full on screaming.

2:41 am - The H wakes up and has no interest in sleeping.

2:46 am - I decide to take our wailing infant daughter to the car. I figure if the car gets carjacked, they will take the baby and I will be able to get some damn sleep. While I am hoping someone steals her, I fall asleep for about 5 minutes. Then, as I sit in the car listening to her cry, I look back up at the hotel and see one lone light on in the entire place. It is our room. I pine for the luxury of a bed. I briefly toy with the idea of driving home and leaving her in her swing and returning to Anaheim.

3:34 am - Mr. Smith sends me a text message to let me know that our son is still awake and watching Monsters, Inc. on his DVD player.

3:40 am - Baby C and I return to the room. I try once again to put her down. She starts crying immediately. I take both children into the living room. Leaving Mr. Smith to get some sleep in the bedroom.

4:10 am - The lovely people in the room next us pound on the wall to alert us to the fact that our daughter is screaming, crying and hysterical. I am pleased that these generous folks are so kind. We had all failed to notice that someone in our party was inconsolable. I immediately start having revenge fantasies. These vary from breaking into their room and leaving Baby C with them, to knocking on their door and punching them in the face. I am not generally a violent person, but seriously folks. It is not like we had the TV turned up too loud or were partying!

4:15 am - The H informs me that he is hungry and wants food. I am lucky enough to find some Cheerios in the diaper bag and I have some milk left from his dinner the night before. Thankfully, I was smart enough to bring some bowls and spoons. I am also able to find some freeze dried peaches in my bag. He inhales the peaches and immediately demands more. I don’t have any and inform him of that fact. He flips his lid, throws himself on the floor and starts screaming and crying.

4:36 am - Baby C finally goes to sleep with me holding her. The H is still asking for more peaches. I find freeze dried pineapple and banana in the bag. When I offer this, he demands pineapple juice. I, of course, have none. Once again, screaming, crying, throws himself on the floor. Baby C wakes up, immediately starts screaming and crying. Somehow, Mr. Smith manages to sleep through all of this.

6:20 am - Mr. Smith emerges from bedroom.

8:00 am - We can finally order breakfast. Baby C falls asleep. The entire hotel breathes a sigh of relief.

8:25 am - We get breakfast.

8:27 am - Baby C wakes up screaming. She is getting two teeth. She now has 4 bottom teeth and no sign of top teeth. I am not sure what to make of this. She kind of looks like an old lady with no upper plate. To add to the drama she also has diaper rash, diarrhea and some weird rash on her cheeks. Her brother is also having diarrhea. In less than two hours, I have changed 5, count them, 5 poopy diapers!!!

8:45 am - Mr. Smith takes Baby C and is able to get her fall asleep on his chest.

9:40 am - Baby C wakes up screaming and crying.

10:30 am - I am ready to throw in the towel. We are defeated. These children have ground us into a fine powder. We decide that we need to go home, wet rugs or not.

11:30 am - After four trips to the car, we are finally able to vacate the scene of the crime. We get on the elevator, relieved to finally be headed home. As we are exiting the elevator in the lobby, I accidentally hip check The H slamming his head into the metal door. He immediately bursts into tears, a welt instantly appears on his right temple and he collapses onto the floor of the hotel lobby in sobs. Mr. Smith takes Baby C and all the other crap I was carrying. I sit down on the floor of the lobby (a small hostile crowd looks at us in complete disgust) and attempt to console him. Luckily, I have a stash of Matchbox cars for just such an occasion. I got out of this mess by offering him two new cars. Cold comfort for a head injury.

11:45 am - Finally driving back home. Back to the swing. Back to a schedule for these children. Back to free access to pineapple juice. Back to sleep. Before I even pull onto the freeway, before we are speeding home on the 5 South, they are both in comas in their respective car seats, sound asleep. I don’t turn on the radio, I just drive home in silence. I enjoy the occasional sleepy sigh that emanates from the back seat. I think about driving all the way to San Diego just to savor the quiet that is the inside of the car, but instantly realize I would run out of gas or fall asleep while driving.

12:30 pm - We arrive home. Baby C wakes up as soon as I turn the car off. H wakes up as Mr. Smith attempts to lift him from the car. He is upset and confused. I take him upstairs, removing his shoes and socks as I walk. I change his diaper and try to put him in the crib without putting his shorts on. He starts sobbing because he wants his clothes on. I put his shorts back on and he collapses onto the mattress. He is asleep before I can leave the room. He sleeps for 3 hours.

12:35 pm - Baby C goes to sleep in her swing. I hurry downstairs and eat quickly. Hoping to catch a nap before someone wakes up again.

1:40 pm - Baby C wakes up crying yet again. She finally goes to bed at 5:30 pm.

7:40 pm - The H is finally in bed, after much negotiating, book reading, discussion about the finer points of Toy Story, etc.

8:10 pm - I fall into bed, and hope, hope, hope that everyone (including me) sleeps through the night...and they do!

This is what we are walking into by traveling again with these children. I am trying to be brave, but they scare the hell out of me!

Where did I go?

Oh the stories I could tell! Over the few weeks, it has been crazy around here. We had Grammy's birthday, we had a cancer diagnosis after it was cured, we have had much drama with The Sad House, we have had even more drama about The Lawyer's Fee-Generating Lawsuit (fittingly just before Mother's Day...thanks to my MIL and the big bad scary abusive law firm...way to go!), and last but so very not least, Baby C is now a year old.

I also was heavily involved with a project concerning my beloved and recently departed Papa Doty. During the archeological dig that is his home, his World War II journals were unearthed. To describe them as chilling, moving, amazing, beautiful would be selling them short.

If you are feeling curious, and would like to read them, they are here and here.

During all of this, turmoil, angst, busy-ness, I have been fretting about my neglect of vertigobcooks. I have been trying desperately to come up with a post. I have about a half dozen half-written, half-hearted posts, but not a single one has been right.

Truth be told, I have been fretting about many many things...for about two years. In that short space of time we have gotten sued (by my Mother-in-Law...Happy Mother's Day!), found out we were having Baby C, gone bankrupt (I don't recommend it), lost my grandfather, had a cancer scare, had countless stress-related medical problems, lost a house, got a house back, paid far too much money to lawyers that failed to get results, kept a business going in this economy and a bunch of other stuff that got lost along the way for obvious reasons.

Last week the notion of anti-depressants was floated by our therapist. For now, I (after much discussion and thought with Mr. Smith) have decided to ride this out. I am hoping that this will pass and that it will not become necessary to take them, but none of us know what the future holds. Our situation may get worse or our situation may get better.

In the meantime, we are seeking comfort where we can find it. Naturally, food provides comfort and heaven knows, I (we) need it now.

We will just have to wait and see and that is the hardest part.

For now, I choose to focus on these two little faces. They will make me laugh, will make me smile, will brighten my day when I need it brightened. The caption for this photo comes from Mr. Smith, "No drooling on the piano!"




I rediscovered this gem the other day. It is one of those that you can whip up after dinner, or have for an after school snack, or just because you need some chocolate to tide you over while you wait for the next disaster to sweep over you.



No Bakes

1/2 cup butter
2 cups sugar
1/2 cup milk
4 tbsp. cocoa
2/3 cup peanut butter
3-3 1/2 cups quick oats
2 tsp. vanilla

Combine butter, sugar, milk and cocoa in a medium sauce pan. Heat until boiling. Boil for 1 minute. Remove from heat and add peanut butter, oats and vanilla. Once mixture is thoroughly blended, drop by teaspoonful (or tablespoonful, if you are feeling ambitious or particularly in need of comfort) onto wax paper or parchment paper.

Allow to set, if you can. I keep them in a plastic storage container in the fridge, but what you do with them at this point is entirely up to you. They are pretty tasty, even while still warm, comforting too!

The Last One

Today I took my final Prenatal Vitamin. No, I am not pregnant. My doctors have all insisted that I keep taking them while I was still breastfeeding.

Today, both are done. I am done breastfeeding and I am done with the vitamins.

I am a little sad about both.

It is one week before Baby C turns one. My little Cinco de Mayo baby is going to be a year old. She is getting ready to start walking. She is fiercely independent. She no longer wants to be held, or snuggled or rocked. She wants to go. She doesn't care where, she just wants to go.

She had no interest in being breastfed any longer. She wants to feed herself.

The last time I breastfed my son was the night before his first birthday. And I felt a little sad, but this is different.

There will be no more babies. She is my last baby. I will never breastfeed again. I will never be pregnant again. Which, don't get me wrong, I am pretty happy about. Both of my pregnancies were miserable.

The best part, the part I will always yearn for, always miss, is feeling the baby move. That first little flutter, when you aren't quite sure. The bigger movements when you are sure what you are feeling, and just are stunned with the knowledge of what is going on. That delicious feeling that for now, for that time, they are all yours, that no one else can feel them the way you can, know them the way you do. The intimacy is so complete.

And that continues after they are born, after you are able to hold them. For a time, you are the only one that can comfort them, give them solace, feed them.


Slowly, very slowly, they start to grow, pull away, become separate from you. A tough pill to swallow.

So this morning, I swallowed the last vitamin.

I will let her go, as much as I can right now because that is the nature of this relationship. The rest of her life as my daughter will be her pulling away and me slowly letting her go.