Just Fuhgeddaboudit Already!

I suspect I have a child with the proverbial memory of an elephant on my hands. I hope she forgets this!

She has had a cold the last couple of days, and last night wasn't feeling so great. Worse, she was picking at her ears. Bleh. Another ear infection will not be ideal. We were rummaging in a drawer in her room, digging up the Vicks and a thermometer when she spotted it. The object of comforting awesomeness.

An old pacifier.

Rubdown accomplished, we were moving into the living room for some snuggling and late-night TV staring when she says, ever-so-politely, "Can I please have the paci?" I feigned deafness. She repeated the request. I declined.

Le sigh. I hope she forgets its there until I get around  to tossing the damned thing. It's an infant one too so she wouldn't be able to use it anyway. Ah Gabs...

The Funniest Toddler on the Block

I'm beginning to suspect that Gabby is developing Mommy's talent for sarcasm. I have no specific examples at the moment, prego brain being an actual documented phenomenon, but I'm sure one or five will come to me eventually!

On the other hand, I'm thinking we may have to figure out a concrete way to get her used to the idea that another baby is on the way. She kinda gets it -- she has a baby in her tummy to match Mommy's. To be honest, there are some days that kid eats so much that she does look like something's growing in there, even if it's only gas! She's also been telling people that, "My Mommy has a baby in her tummy." This she told to her teachers, who didn't quite know if to believe her or not! Funny. They did after Bill confirmed it. Mommy, of course, is making her look like a total liar what with the second trimester pending and not a maternity shirt in sight.

Speaking of which, just about 188 days to go! 27 weeks! Le sigh. I suppose I should start making a list of the things to to. Like get another crib. And retrieve clothes from the attic and friends to whom they were loaned. Then the breast pump, bottles, diapers... ARGH!!!

Let's Do This Again!

We'll be adding another little darling to the Gordon-Wilson set of offspring next Spring! Tentatively named Peri the Parasite (after Nando's Peri-Peri chicken, natch!), this little bundle is expected to join us on or around March 4th of next year. Full fetal name: Peri Angostura Gordon Wilson.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Much Ado About Nothing

Or, The Great Dress Debacle.

When it gets to be warmer out, I dress Gabby in one of her gazillion dresses. She likes to wear them because she can twirl the skirt, dance and see the fabric move. Of course, she also still behaves like a perfect tomboy... but no big deal. All of these dresses come with knickers which, at the moment, cover her pull-ups.

So on Monday and Tuesday, she wore this one and on Tuesday, she wore this one. Both at the knee or longer, and again, both with their knickers. On Wednesday, Bill came home with a verbal from the lead teacher in the classroom: it seems that Gabby was lifting her dress (to dance, no doubt), and the teacher wanted us to send something along to "cover her legs". This of course brought my inner Feminist out, and she was screaming with Indignant Outrage. This being Bill, there weren't a lot of details, but it seems that the teacher was suggesting that since Gabby was lifting her skirt, that there should be something more than knickers and a pull-up underneath.

Gabrielle, by the way, is two years old. All of the children in the classroom use the same bathroom and are not restricted from walking in to wash their hands while someone else is using the potty either. There is also a changing table set about four feet off the ground. So it's not as though they're not seeing each other's legs (and other body parts) anyway, and kids will make a big deal about something only if the adults around them do so.

So the bottom line is that this teacher is erring on the side of ridiculous. Had this been a dress code issue, I would have happily complied, coming from the educational system that I have. But the school has two hard-and-fast dress code rules: clothing must be temperature-appropriate, and closed-toed shoes are to be worn at all times. That's it. Nothing further. I told Bill that if the teacher says anything about Gabby's clothing again, that she should give me a call so we can discuss it. Quite frankly, if she wants to impose her cultural mores on my child (she is an older woman from another country) then she will definitely have quite the battle on her hands.

Furthermore, now that it's warm out, Gabby has a whole wardrobe of dresses I can exploit. It's on.

The Art of Negotiation

Gabby has lately learned the art of negotiation. She practices this most frequently when it comes to eating,  no surprise. If offered, say, milk, she will say, "How about juice?"  We've realized that she does this purely for the chance to try and get at something other than what we are asking her to accept, since ultimately she will take what was first offered anyway.

Far from deterring  the budding negotiator, I've taken this a step up to manage the temper tantrums that show up every morning. You see, much like her mother, Gabby doesn't really do mornings and is usually quite grouchy when first woken up for school. So, our mornings have taken on the pattern of my offering her one of two options for each stage of getting out the door. We can either change her pull-up or go to the bathroom. We can either get dressed, or eat breakfast. Or, we can comb hair or put on shoes. Don't be mistaken: all of these things do eventually get done, but I find that she's a lot more pliable if it seems like she's in charge.

I wonder where she could have possibly gotten that one from...?

I wish they'd taught these lessons to a couple of the teachers at her daycare. Gabby  transitioned from her toddler class to one of the two-year-old classes right around the time that she turned two. She loved the teachers in her toddler class, but did not love the new teachers. To me, that's okay because she is there to learn and at some point she will have to learn that she has to interact with people that aren't that awesome. Of course, it didn't really help that I thought maybe I was projecting my own dislike of the lead teacher somehow. I just didn't/don't like her and I couldn't put my finger on it.I figured I'd take notes and bring it up at parent-teacher conferences later this month. In addition, soon after Gabby transitioned to the classroom, one of her old teachers approached my husband and asked him to just stop by unannounced because she didn't think that classroom was a good fit for Gabby. Again, no clear evidence, just a "feeling".

Before that could happen, I get a phone call from the Center Director asking me if she could switch Gabby to the other two-year old classroom. I jump at the chance to do this, not having any "thing" to point to. Then she asked me what I thought of it, and I told her that I noticed that Gabby just wasn't bonding as well to her new teachers as she did with her old ones, and that she wasn't as enthusiastic. Plus: the teacher she talked about all afternoon was not either of the ones she had spent the whole day with, but the other class's teacher. That pretty much settled it. So, Director tells the teacher of the decision and calls me back to tell me that there was some unhappiness from the current teachers. Oh well, but this isn't about you, is it?

Next day, I take Gabby to her new classroom and she takes off running. That's all I needed to see to tell me the decision was the right one.

Of course, in true toddler fashion, this morning when we get there, she starts asking for her old teacher. Keep in mind, over the last seven weeks or so, she has not once asked for this woman! Le sigh. It's going to be awkward for a while, but meh, she's resilient.

A Pacifier Update

This past weekend, Gabby graciously consented to spending Saturday evening through Sunday afternoon with Granny while Bill and I went out to belatedly celebrate our anniversary. We had dropped her off and were on our way to dinner when a moment of panic erupted.

Me: Shit. I forgot to put a paci in the bag.
Bill: Damn... (and we wonder how come the kid hasn't started swearing yet, but I digress...)
Me: Oh well.

The whole evening goes by without a word from my mother, so I figured everything was okay. As it happens, I was right. I sent my mother a text at around 1 asking how Gabby did without the paci. The answer was that she sang for about an hour until she fell asleep around 8:30. I got that, "Are you serious?" look on my face and resolve that the bra... er, toddler was sleeping without her paci on Sunday night.

Sunday night comes and it's almost bedtime. Predictably, Gabby starts inspecting all of the usual places to find the pacifier she'd stashed the day before. She comes up empty, so she starts asking me for them and I tell her they're in the trash. She cries for all of five minutes (if that long) and decides she doesn't need it, and conks out.

After she was asleep, Bill and I round up the pacifiers and toss them in the trash. This afternoon, she spotted them in there, and, I am told, tried to fish them out (hellooooo, addict!). Bill threw them away again, but tonight is night number two without the sleeping aid. She hasn't asked for them yet and it's just about bedtime, so we'll see!

Potty Training: an Update

I'm happy to report that we're getting pretty close, although I hesitate to say "almost there." This past weekend, Gabby spent huge chunks of time on the toilet. Every time she needed to go (although she was in her pull-up) she would ask to go to the toilet, and we would dutifully sit in the bathroom until she was done. She even pooped in there a couple of times! I think she's not quite there, however, because a few times when she said she had to go pee, she'd already done so in the pull-up. Then there was also the incident with the lipstick. I think that as we continue with this potty training business, we will just leave her in panties so she can really understand what happens when she needs to pee. This is not going to sit well with Bill, but hey, accidents happen!

So, we'll see. I don't see any long weekends coming up soon, so it's going to have to be one Saturday when we just jump on this. I suppose this means I'll have to roll out of bed at a reasonable hour. :p

It's Time!

Time to begin the potty training!

Gabby has moved up into the two-year olds' class at daycare, and they will begin potty training her ASAP. We have to reinforce this training at home. I suspect it's going to be easier than we thought it would be. She has already transitioned to wearing pull-ups (or rather the Pampers' brand of Easy Ups) and will willingly sit on the toilet.

But, it was last night's incident that has me convinced that it's time. She went to sleep (in her own bed!) and at around midnight, I awaken to see her standing right outside our door, asking, "Mommy? Where are you?"

"I'm in here, pumpkin."

She comes into the room and climbs up on the bed.

"Change diaper, mommy?"
"Why, Gabby? Did you poop?"
"Yes. Change diaper please."

So we changed the diaper. It's time to get this operation in full swing! But the question remains: where did my baby go?

The Great Pacifier Purge

We've begun the Great Pacifier Purge of 2010.

Gabby came into this world making sucking motions with her mouth, yet she wasn't a thumb-sucker in-utero. So, starting at the nursery at the hospital we consented to let her have a pacifier. While she was never one of those children who has to have a paci 24/7, and definitely is not a candidate for surgical removal of same, she is attached to it. We were able to wean her off of it so she only has it at bedtime.

Now, Gabby has probably half a dozen of those rubber abominations, thanks to Grammy, who seemingly bought them by the gross from WalMart. We are now in the position of discovering all of the places where Gabby might have a pacifier stashed, because we're about to get rid of them completely.

A couple of months ago, knowing that this day would come, I decided to try a little experiment. As we were leaving to go to school and work one morning, I told her to throw paci in the trash. She complied, but immediately this look that was a cross between panic and ... panic, came across her little face.

"Paci gone?"
"Yes, Gabby, paci's gone."
"Paci dirty!"
"Yes, Gabby, paci's dirty, so you can't use that one anymore."
"Want paci?" This one was said with a note of wistfulness. I giggled to myself, thinking she'd forget about it. Later that night, she asked about it, but we had a few (sigh) backups, so it wasn't a problem.

This past weekend, we tried the experiment again, this time starting to talk to her about having to throw paci away.

"Gabby, we have to throw paci in the trash."
"NO! Nononononono no!"

Eventually I took her to the trash can and made her toss one in. She wasn't happy; we just threw another one away this morning (I did say they were apparently bought by the gross, didn't I?). The goal is to have them all gone within the next week or two. The kid is turning two years old on Thursday, and I do NOT want to be that parent with her 5 year-old running around with a pacifier in her mouth. It's going to be rough going for a few nights after the final one goes away, but we can do it.

Next up: potty training.

Post-Snowmageddon III

Yes, it's apparently possible to have multiple armageddons, or, in this case, snowmageddons.

Our first snowstorm was nice, a couple of feet and a freebie snow day right before Christmas. Gabs and Bill had a great time building an igloo and playing in the snow.

Round 2, starting a week ago Friday and keeping on until Sunday morning was almost as fun... until we heard there was ANOTHER blizzard heading for us on top of that. Everything is shut down from about 1 PM Friday. Gabby developed a pretty awful cough on Sunday night, and by Monday was running a fever. So, Tuesday afternoon we took her in to the pediatrician who diagnosed an ear infection in one ear and the beginnings of another in the other. Antibiotics in hand, she started to recover pretty quickly.

And that is when we realized why some animals eat their young.

She couldn't go outside, and there's only so  many ways to entertain a toddler inside. Even she became bored with the store of videos and books that we have at the house, and was alternately amusing and intolerable. And refusing to nap. And not wanting to eat. And exercising her right to be a Terrible Two-Year-Old.

One week later, we're dug out and the federal government is open, which means that she gets to go back to daycare and I get to go back to work. Bill took unscheduled leave today (lucky man). As I dropped Gabby off this morning, she pitched a (reasonable) fit about being allowed to go play in the snow and lay down in the driveway of the school. It was a Herculean effort to resist the urge to leave her there, but someone might have run over her and I would have been charged with something, so I picked her up and slung her over my shoulder to carry her inside. Other parents exchanged knowing looks as they also unceremoniously thrust their offspring at the waiting teachers.

One hour and fifteen minutes later, I made it into work. The District of Columbia could take lessons from the City of Bowie on how to clear streets so that the traffic lanes on major thoroughfares (absent of parked cars on the snow emergency routes!) can pass by instead of being forced to merge at unpredictable junctures. Why did I drive, you may wonder? My spidey-senses told me that despite protestations to the contrary, metro might be a clusterfuck, and so it was! One train every 25 - 30 minutes actually meant one train every 45 minutes or so, with tracks above ground still not clear and riders frustrated and pissed off at every turn.

Awesome sauce.

Not Straying Too Far From the Gene Pool.

Gabby will be turning 2 (!) in about two weeks or so. It's pretty amazing how the tiny little thing that stuck to me like a barnacle when she was first born has grown into a barnacle that still sticks to me, but talks back. Her patterns of behavior are also very striking because she tends to exhibit some very specific character traits that are common amongst myself and my 14 cousins and siblings. Being the oldest of that group, I've been able to catalog a lot of these traits, and again am amazed at how they  translate into my own stinker's genes even though she's away from the direct influence of the other cousins who are closer to her in age. I guess this sheds some new light on the nature vs. nurture argument, eh?

Gabby is a drama queen. Cherisse, I'm looking at you! Melodrama from the cradle, and no signs of stopping at 17 1/2.

She loves to climb. Now, one can argue that all toddlers will do this, but there is a fearlessness common among the Gordons that is breathtaking. Randy is an excellent example of this, having retired our sainted grandmother from caring for the grandchildren after he wore her out, and driving a daycare teacher to near-insanity. My mother was over on Thanksgiving Day and witnessed Gabby climb to the top of the arm of the sofa, where she nonchalantly perched in order to watch TV. This resting spot is about 4 feet off the ground, and I'm really not going to worry too much about her falling because quite frankly, it would mean me or Bill running after her all the time with a cushion to catch her.

Gabby is a chatterbox. I have no idea where she might have gotten this particular character trait, but let's just say the girls of my generation all spoke reasonably early. And we all had a lot to say. Still do...

Gabby is very charming, and a natural flirt. This one could come from Granny, but is also very present in Dale, Derrick, and Symone, to name a few. The two aforementioned boys, in fact, used her to pick up girls when we were there back in October 2008... But, the story I will never forget is Gabby at 5 (?) months old: we are at the grocery store, picking up some Pedialyte, and I hear this guy behind me at the register cooing at her. I turned around in time to see her look at him, make eye contact, hold it for just a second, then break out in a wide smile. I hope Bill has that baseball bat ready!

Gabby is super-smart. Okay, this one is a Wilson-Gordon collaboration, no question. She seems to use both sides of her brain equally, which spells trouble when she is plotting her next course of mischief.

She is very cute. Another Wilson-Gordon integration, but it's heavy on the Gordon side. Those eyes. That smile. So what if that's not a character trait? She knows how to use it though.

Gabby is VERY popular at daycare. This is partly to do with the above-mentioned charm and flirtatiousness, but we walk in every morning, and she has to say, "Hi!" very enthusiastically to everyone she sees. One day in particular, people came out of a classroom to greet Gabby and I asked a teacher why she was so popular? She responded that Gabby is always very happy to be there (ha! Getting her out of the house is a trial...) and she's so effusive in her greeting!  The other kids love her. If another mother is to be believed, her son (two months younger) talks about "Gabby, Gabby, Gabby" incessantly on the way to school in the morning. This is totally a Derrick and Randy trait. They were always everyone's friend, young and old. It was quite entertaining to watch, actually.

Finally, Gabby is naturally bossy. Okay, I'll totally look in the mirror for that one.

My baby is growing up! Can I stick her in a time warp?

January, You Kinda Sucked.

And you're not even over yet! *knock wood*

First, it was the advent of the puking sickness. I never thought that something so small could vomit so profusely and so often! There was the night that Gabby had a coughing fit, and threw up a little. Forunately, Daddy was right there with his open, cupped hand to catch the mess. As soon as it happened, Gabby looks at it and proclaims, "Whoa!" I bust out laughing, but Bill sits there with this stricken, yet horrified look on his face as he screams for a  towel.

Then, I sneak out one night to deliver some home-cooked deliciousness to my friends with the newborn. You remember her, the one who is not a pre-existing condition? Anyhoo, I decide that I'm out for the evening anyway and go catch Sherlock Holmes (great movie). I get home around 12:30 and I hear, "MOMMY!" as I peek into the bedroom. Gabby comes flying at me, and we go snuggle on the couch since Bill reports that she didn't seem to be feeling well that evening. He comes out to check on us a little while later, and she runs to him... and projectile vomits all over him. Cue the stricken yet horrified look, add a little frantic, and you have a caricature of his face. Gabby starts to wail, so I take her from him and get a layer of shirt off only to have her projectile puke all over me!! Let me tell you: 7-hour old mac and cheese does not smell good. We take turns showering at 1 AM, and try to go to bed, but Gab is really not good tonight. She has, however, by the second (third?) round of vomiting learned to indicate that it's coming by wailing and holding her mouth. Poor punpkin; we've all been there. This happens a few more times that night, but of course Daddy sleeps through a couple of rounds. Bleh. The next day, she's totally fine barring a diminished appetite.

Bill gets sick on Monday (?) night, but at least he makes it to the bathroom to empty his stomach's contents. It's awesome. I provide him with extra blankets, a bucket with some water in it, and a jug of water. 

Tuesday morning rolls around and I'm thinking Bill is okay to be left alone since he attempted to go into work at 4 AM (his normal time) and I harassed him (there may have been some cussing, I won't lie) into keeping his lame ass at home. I take Gabby to daycare. Apparently I've forgotten that Gabby indicates when she's about to blow because I pick her up when she cries and holds her mouth, only to get rained on by regurgitated oatmeal and milk. Since this hasn't been in her stomach too long, it's not as nasty-smelling, but I gag all the same. The more experienced daycare providers managed not to get spattered but gamely help me clean up. Le sigh. We turn around and go home, where I call out sick. On the way back home, I stop off at Burger King for a Bad Breakfast to help me forget my Bad Morning. Order placed, money paid, waiting for food at drive-through and... projectile vomit. You mean to tell me there was MORE fucking oatmeal in there? Ugh. The little stinker seems fine because no sooner than the last chunk is spewed than she starts asking for chicken nuggets -- after all, we are at Burger King.

We make it home, get all of our accumulated spattered clothing off, and Gabby proceeds to run all over the house like she never had an upset stomach.

Think that's all the vomit for one week, eh? Nope.  We go visit Uncle Michael, and to reward her for good behavior, we stop by Wendy's for chicken nuggets. Cue wail, mouth holding. This time, I have a receptacle handy and get 90% of the  apple, french toast, and juice that comes back to visit into the bowl. I bust a hasty U-turn at the drive through and get home. Bill greets us with towels and Clorox wipes; Gabby and I strip down, shower, and take a nap.

By now I'm thinking that me and January are done. We're not friends. January is apparently not done with me, 'cause I pass half of last week waiting for Death to come claim me and release me from the pain of the first (diagnosed) attack of strep throat I've had in five years. At least I got some good drugs out of it.

Crisis in Haiti

On Tuesday, January 12, Haiti was rocked by a magnitude 7.0 earthquake. Thousands are feared dead. Read more about the story as it has unfolded here.

What can you do to help? If you're in Trinidad or the Caribbean, my cousin Afro Chic has provided this link to Is There Not A Cause? In the United States, you also have many options, provided courtesy of NPR:

-- The State Department's DipNote blog writes that "for those interesting in helping immediately, simply text 'HAITI' to '90999' and a donation of $10 will be given automatically to the Red Cross to help with relief efforts, charged to your cell phone bill. Or you can go online to organizations like the Red Cross and Mercy Corps Mercy Corps to make a contribution to the disaster relief efforts."

-- The American Red Cross has posted more information about its efforts and how to donate here.

-- Mercy Corps' online donations page is here.

-- It's Just Light, a blog by photographer Nick Zantop, has collected a long list of aid organizations and how to donate money to them here.

-- CBSNews.com has its list of aid groups here.

-- Musician Wyclef Jean, who's from Haiti, says if you text "Yele" to 501501, you'll automatically be donating $5 to the Yele Haiti Earthquake Fund. The charge will show up on your phone bill. You can find out more about Yele here.

Felicitations!

or, Fun and Games While You're In Labor.

I know that many of you think, periodically, that I have taken leave of my senses. But I wanted to give you some perspective, given some of the people that I hang with in real life. Keep in mind, this is entertaining at the end, even though it is MADNESS!

If you recall, while I was in labor, I went to my doctor's office and he sent me to the hospital. However, my cell phone was dead, and I realized that I had left my only charger at the office. It was a holiday and the office wasn't too far away. Think of it this way: you have a straight line (pretty much) that's about 15 miles long, office is on one end, hospital at the other, and they're 25 minutes apart by car. Doctor's office is pretty much in the middle. I saw nothing wrong with it. I made Bill drive me to go get my cell charger. I leave a note for my intern, and head off to the hospital. 

K pwns me. 

My friend K is due around January 2nd-ish. I get a text from her on Saturday at 11:30-ish: How do you know you're in labor? Because my cell phone doesn't usually come into the house with me, I didn't get this text until 5 hours later, and I called her back. She's checking into the hospital. Turns out, in the intervening 5 hours, she hadn't just sat around waiting to go to the hospital. Oh no...

She needed a couple of items still for the baby's room, so she and her fiancee hop in the car and go shopping in Georgetown (about 10 minutes, in traffic, from the hospital).There was also an incident where they drove past Joe Lieberman -- yes, that Joe Lieberman -- and his wife, Hadassah. She rolled down the window and yelled at him: I AM NOT A PRE-EXISTING CONDITION! They circle the block and come back around, and she yells at him again. I FREAKING LOVE THIS WOMAN!!

Then they went to the hospital. 6 hours, an epidural, and 25 minutes of pushing  later, she had a healthy baby girl, 7 pounds, 4 ounces, and GORGEOUS! This gal is going to be such a diva. She is beautiful, looks just like daddy, and is so serene. I think she's going to give Gabs a run for her money in the cuteness department, also being halfsies, but we'll settle that with a rib-eating contest in a couple of years. 

Congrats!!

Happy New Decade!

What a decade this past one was! Pretty eventful in this little stretch of the woods. The decade in review...

2000. After Y2K's pending disaster proves to be a non-starter, we move into our new house in Bowie and were promptly greeted by close to a foot of snow. Being new homeowners, we had no shovel. Then a snow plough came through our cul-de-sac, and not realizing that the house was occupied, ploughed a  six-foot snow drift in front of our driveway. It was awesome sauce. The neighbors dug us out, we shared our beer.
This year also marked my first trip to Europe: Paris, Madrid, Barcelona. Loads of fun even though the company was interesting to say the least -- it was a group school trip. Later that year, I said good-bye to by babies Lauren, Sean, Jamie, and Zach, and went on to work at Chevy Chase Bank. I also started at American University that fall. Not a terribly eventful year -- other than the travesty of Bush being elected. Travesty. Such a minor word for what he did to this country...

2001. Motoring along at CCB and at AU, September 11 rolls around. It was a beautiful fall morning, and we were ensconced in the bank, preparing to open, when a courier comes in just before nine (between when we arrive and when the doors open, we literally have zero contact with the outside world except through phones) and tells us that a plane flew into the World Trade Center. We dismiss him as having inhaled too many fumes or the victim of a prank. When we open the doors a few minutes later, we're greeted with the full horror of the terrorist attack. Needless to say, very little work is done as every person listens to  the rampant rumors and inherent chaos. We're dismissed from work early that day, and a couple of days later, while in the middle of a History class, some dumbass decides to take advantage of the uncertainty of everything to phone in a bomb threat to the campus. I hope that stupid f-er got kicked out. People were scared out of their minds already and it was made worse by this moron. Amid the fear and uncertainty of 2001, we ring in the next year, glad to see the back of 2001, but not sure what's going to happen next!

2002. Errr... a blur. More of the same? I continue at AU and Chevy Chase Bank. That summer, I meet, seemingly by chance, a future good friend. She seems a little off her rocker, but I like that crazy Latina. Time to move on to 2003...

2003. I decide that my academic future will be in Cuba for  three weeks. Barring one mother of a crazy roommate, the trip was a lot of fun and quite the learning experience. This is also the spring where I was at a job fair, and while waiting for the line at the DoD to get smaller, strike up a conversation with Denise and Sybil at the table for some place named EMILY's List. Guess I was supposed to be there; six months and an internship later, Cheryl and I were shaking on "giving a job a try for six months or so..." I gleefully resign from Chevy Chase Bank and fall into the seamy underbelly of fundraising. This was also the semester that I was sitting next to this girl in a class and we strike up conversation, thinking that we both knew each other from somewhere. Turns out to be the Crazy Latina. We go on to many adventures.

2004. I am kinda bitten by the canvassing bug. There was South Carolina in February, South Dakota in May, Tampa in August (horrible idea, but another good friend found!). Boston Convention, and an ah-mazing speech by some guy named Barack Obama. I turn to Tiffany and Amy and say that guy should run for president someday. We celebrated that evening by crashing a few delegate parties and running into Jerry Springer. Overall, a successful evening, but I do NOT recommend flying with a hangover. This is also the year of Air EMILY to Palm Beach in November. Despite heroic efforts on many fronts, Bush is re-elected. I'm much more disheartened by Betty Castor's Senate loss, but that doesn't stop an "EMILY". This was also the year that closed out with  the South Asian tsunami disaster!

2005. Diana -- aka Crazy Latina -- and I, along with a few other people are turning 30. We decide to go on a trip to New Orleans in August. Turns out to be the weekend of Katrina! Horrific doesn't even to begin to describe the events that unfold on tv screens across the country, as people watch, horrified as Bush remains on vacation as the city falls to pieces. Becca, Colleen, and Kate join the staff at EL and, along with our occasional pal Julia, we turn happy hour into an art. You know when the bouncer at Mackey's lets you in without carding you that you're a regular. I also begin to report to Jamie and Barb, still on the top ten Best Supervisors Evar!

2006. The summer that my office spouse, Amy, and I snuck out to go to Mackey's to watch World Cup Soccer. I'm also allowed to roam the country for the purposes of work, which turns out to be waaaaay more fun than I ever thought it could be! I <3 my phone fundraisers. I also <3/miss the days of pulling in $850K on the phones in just 4 weeks. I don't get to go out on the road for Election Day, but it was worth it to hang out at the office and watch returns.

2007. Starts out with a bang! Amy, my office spouse, and I go to Zanzibar for Yvette Clark's inauguration party, and she gets to meet many many many crazy Caribbean people who chartered buses to come down to DC from Brooklyn for the festivities. Jen joins the Happy Hour HoneysThis was the summer that I thought there was something seriously wrong with me, I was so damned tired all the time. Then, one quiet afternoon, I start counting backwards in my head and say, "Oh shit." It was not enough to pee on the stick three times, but I had to have a doctor confirm it. 7 1/2 months later, Gabby graces us with her presence! Gabby had a fetal name though, helpfully supplied at the TalkCSI Board Meetup by Deb, Kristine, Rhonda, Rachel, et al: Bailey. Knowing my affection for the alcymahol, we decided that the baby would be fed Bailey's Irish Creme as formula, and tried to devise a way that I would drink enough to turn my breastmilk into Bailey's. I join an online community founded by the people behind What to Expect when You're Expecting and meet a fabulous group of mamas who have kids about the same age as my own. This was also the year of weddings: Colleen and Boge; Erica and Mike; Ha-hoa and Eric; Maria and Charlie; Diana and Lee; Barb and Matt. Ha-hoa had the best shower by far, it coming out that she "has a stick up her ass." That is STILL funny!

2008. A year of highs and lows. In February, I have a baby cut out of me give birth to my daughter Gabrielle. She immediately turns on the charm that remains her trademark to this day. Gabby meets Ellen R. Malcolm at the EL Cinco de Drinko Mayo party, and sticks her tongue out at her -- twice! That's when we knew for sure that she was a keeper.  I return to work in the summer... and that's all I'll say about that summer of work. The primary war between Barack and Hillary gets very... intense, but we all know how that ended. I still love Hillary Clinton's very classy concession and her later speech at the Convention in Denver. Tiffany and I didn't get to go. We may or may not still be bitter. At the end of summer, my mother advises me that my Aunt Margaret's health is steadily declining, and she really wanted to meet Gabby. I arrange to hop on a plane and go visit the family in Trinidad for a few days. While it seemed like the universe was conspiring against my getting there and back with a 7-month old traveler strapped to my torso, I'm really happy I was able to get there. Auntie Margaret died a few days after the historic presidential election, so the year didn't end on the best note, personally. I did get the chance to go to New Hampshire to canvass for Jeanne Shaheen, Carol Shea-Porter, and that guy who won the presidential election... Our van, the Punisher, was made of win, and Denise and Maren organized the best canvassing operation I've ever had privilege to participate in. Election Night needs no description -- photos of Jen and Kaiya say it all.

2009. I skip the Inauguration Madness and watch from the warmth of my home, Gabby in her pearls and t-shirt from Auntie Tiff proclaiming her to be a "Future Princess President." About a month later, I say so long to EL after almost 6 years -- from intern to manager -- and say hello to Defenders of Wildlife. This place may break me, and many days I question my sanity, but I kinda like it. I don't do quiet, and it suits my personality. After having sent her many picture texts and a framed photo of her and Gabby, Kate calls me up on day to ask me if I was psychic, 'cause she was pregnant! She was the first... turns out, this is the year to get pregnant. I may be missing a few people, but among those who either give birth or get pregnant in 2009: Diana, Emily, Ha-Hoa, Kate, Laura, Jayme, Taleaha, Erika, Jen C., Britt, Tamara, Melissa. Way to close out the decade!

Happy New Year!!!