Wil Wheaton Made Me Cry at Work

WHEEAAATTTOOONNNNN!

Darn it Wil Wheaton. You made me get weepy at work.

My favorite author is Douglas Adams. He's dead now and can't write anymore. That makes me sad. I got to meet him about a year before he died. It was really cool. I got to tell him what he did for me. Here's what he did ...

Growing up I never felt like I fit in. I was always the Rhoda, never the Mary. Always the Cousin Oliver. I felt like I was always the geeky or dorky one growing up. I liked things that nobody else liked. I watched things on TV that my classmates hated. I listened to music nobody else liked. I had a strange way at looking at things. My teachers looked at me funny and treated me differently (except for one).  I never really understood what was wrong with me. Then gradually, as I got older I got comfortable with my weird. I even met people who shared my weird, or at least had a weird of their own that co-existed nicely with mine. I even got to marry one of these weird people and make babies with him.

It all started with Taco Bell.

My very first job was at Taco Bell. I was working one night with a cute boy from my high school. He was the super tall and lanky heavy metal guy who could scat. I had a major crush on him. He told me about this book called The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The next day I went to the library and checked it out. I started reading it and didn't put it down until I finished it.
I got two things out of the book;
one - I loved the book. It was a fun story with great characters and lots of really great lines to remember and sometimes incorporate into my everyday speech,
two - (and this is the important part) it taught me that it's OK to be weird. It's OK to be comfortable with the things I like, the things I like to do and the people I like to be with.

Today I saw this clip of Wil Wheaton.

In this video, Wil Wheaton did for tons of struggling nerds/geeks/dorks/misfits, etc., what Douglas Adams did for me. It made me weepy. It made me happy. Thanks Wil.

Thanks Wil. You're a good guy to have in every geek's corner. By the way, we've met before. It was December 1990. You were on a plane from London to LAX. I walked by you as I was boarding. I was staring. You said "Hello." I freaked out and walked away. Sorry.

The Accidental Co-Sleeper

We co-sleep. Or at least we did until last weekend.



I know that people have strong feelings for and against the practice.  Some people argue that co-sleeping is beneficial because it is easier to breastfeed in the middle of the night. It gives mom and baby an extra chance to bond. It helps baby sleep for longer stretches during the night. It reduces stress hormones. Some people argue that co-sleeping is a dangerous practice because of suffocation dangers.

I agree with both sides. Sleeping next to my baby is one of my favorite activities. A sweet-smelling, tiny and cuddly hot water bottle curled up next to me all night long? Yes please!  I don't think I've gotten a good night sleep since Bean was born. We have been sleeping together since day 1. Yes, even while still in the hospital I co-slept with my baby. But the dangers are not lost on me. I've been acutely aware of my actions during sleeping. In the beginning, Bean slept in a little bed that fit between Hubby and me. Then when she got older and too big for the little bed she slept with us in the bed. . . . And she slept with us until last weekend.

Now, I'm not all Mayim Bialik about co-sleeping. I loved it, but I have no aversion to Bean sleeping in her own spot. We started co-sleeping because we didn't have a crib. Then when we did get a crib, we were too stinkin' lazy to set it up. We didn't intend to become co-sleepers. It just happened.

While the last few nights of actually getting to sleep next to my husband, and getting to sleep in a normal position and not curled up all strange so the blankets wouldn't cover Bean's head have been great, I miss waking up to Bean smacking me or kicking me in the face while she stirs in the morning, and I miss seeing her sweet little Mona Lisa smile she first wakes up.

Co-sleeping is not something you have to do. It's something you get to do. There are so many different ways to be a parent. If your baby is clean, happy, fed and loved you're doing a good job. There are many different ways to get there, and as long as you get there, you're doing it right.

Co-sleep. Don't co-sleep. It's up to you. Whatever works for your family. I'm glad she's in her own crib now, but I miss her.

Stacking the Deck

Over the weekend The Hubby and I took The Kiddies to a Festa in Santa Cruz. It's an event we go to every year. I'll write another post about it soon.

One of the things the kids look forward to is playing a raffle type game. I don't know what it's called. We call it The Paper Game. For 10 cents each one is given a tightly rolled piece of paper. The paper is unrolled and if a number and a stamp from the Portuguese Hall is present, one wins the corresponding prize with that number taped to it. Prizes are donated by, I'm guessing, members of the Portuguese Hall. The prizes are as varied as they are interesting, fun or useless. We've won things like potholders, crocheted doilies, vases, trivets, water guns. Really, just about anything could be a prize. Unrolling the paper and finding something written inside is just as fun as exchanging that piece of paper for a prize and seeing what you've won.

The other day I stacked the deck for The Boy. I bought $5 worth of rolled up pieces of paper. He and I sat down and started unrolling. I noticed I had won three things while he had won nothing. When he was getting down to his last few pieces of paper I rolled one of my winning numbers back up and sneaked it into his pile. When he unrolled it and found his number (301) he was so excited. Watching a 5 year old boy smile and scream "YES" and "SWEET" and "OH YEAH" is just about the best thing ever.

We went over to the prize booth and turned in our numbers. It turns out I gave him just the right number. I turned in my numbers and got my prize; two dish towels from crate and barrel. The Boy turned in his number and won . . . . .

. . . . . Ladies and Gentlemen, meet the newest member of our family . . . .

The Boy named him 301.