For Grandpa Cootie

1916-2010

Paz

And So It Goes

The devil wears onesies.

I'm just kidding. He outgrew his onesies this week.

Onesies now look more like one-third-sies (thanks for that one Nels, and for reminding me how I just 'shat out a baby'), so it was off to Goodwill to go shopping for twosies.

Besides the fact that I've spent the past 6 weeks either half asleep or half awake, I've begun spacing out in 9 out of 10 social situations. While I once was simply shy and only partially withdrawn, I was at least observant and able to contribute. Now, I'm just dumb. And completely irrelevant.

At the dinner table the other night, I hardly had a thought other than, "What time is it? Why is mint jelly so good? Because it's so bad. Mmmm, omelettes" Over and over and over.

The only reason I'm able to keep a blog is that ability to think on my feet has been replaced with the ability to think on my ass. Intermittently.

Anyways, my point WAS...after we found some sweet digs for the little guy, we walked over to Coffee Talk to see if our friend Liz was working. Alas, she was not, but we ran into some old friends from a former life I had lived not too long ago. A life that ended abruptly when the center of that life died while free diving off Waikiki. He was incredible and amazing and a father and an artist. And when he left I was done for.

But with the help of friends and family, many gallons of `awa, a huge cloud of tobacco smoke, a whole lotta music - and an impossible love that made everything possible once again - I've made pretty good work of becoming un-done-for.

Anyways (again), my point is lost...but these friends I ran into - whom I've been avoiding subconsciously/purposely/foolishly in my misguided attempt to never be reminded of how rock-bottom felt against my face - were so good to see. And that's all.

Maybe time heals. Or maybe we decide when we're ready to just be well.

All-nighter No. 1 billion

New levels of crankiness were reached this morning after Sebastien's night time waking-up routine took a turn for the worse. He now wishes to not only wake up, but stay up and squirm and fuss for the hour and a half after his feedings (where I used to get at least a little sleep). Hopefully, just like the good old days of staying up all night BY CHOICE, this too, shall pass.

Dave rescued me from sticking my head in the toilet for an extended amount of time at around 6 AM, not long after I tripped over the stool in the bathroom and spilled much of my hard-earned milk on the floor. Talk about heartbreak...

Ah me. On the flip side, I think Sebastien loves me a little. And I love him. And his Daddy too.

Date Nuit Extended

I thought date night was for old people. I thought it was for people who's relationships needed rescuing. I thought having to schedule time to be together was a sign that someone's priorities were a bit...off. I was wrong. Date night is awesome. Pencil me in!

We started off by killing time at the book store before our dinner reservation, where we picked up the latest issue of Dwell (haha...good thing I no longer take my uber cool design mag reading self seriously). Then it was off to Assagio Bistro, which was...ummm...a nice place to sit.

And sit we did. Two bleary-eyed first-timers having a slow conversation about travel, about food, about the future...re-discovering the vocabulary we had abandoned not so long ago in the blur of labor, delivery, and parenthood. It felt new and old. Remembered. Forgotten. The same and so very different.

On a whim, we ended our night at Anna Banana's, on a last-minute mission to reconnect with our friend, Jesse Savio at his weekly open mic. We said hello, and caught the first song of his set. I touched the bar top, and then my eye. My eye then started to itch. Eew.

On our way to pick up Sebastien I silently stressed about the long nights and days ahead, and tried not to provoke my sleepiness by thinking too hard about it.

Date Nuit

For those of you who have drooled over the seriously sleek and modern design of Dwell magazine, I've found the website to burst your stainless steel counter top acid washed concrete floor bubble.


A friend sent me a link to this very funny blog. Somehow I find it funny even as I'm reading it instead of going to see Crazy Heart with Dave. Alas, the night is young, and we still have dinner reservations in a couple of hours. 


Thank you (you know who you are) for keeping me entertained on date night, while Daddy catches up on some much needed zzz's.


http://unhappyhipsters.com/

I Have No Words

No ween? Ever??

Brain Fut

So today we ventured as a tight-knit unit into unknown territory...a shopping mall. Why, you ask, do we torture our poor sleep deprived bodies like this? Well, Mom, Sister, Sebastien, Rufus, and I were on our way back Town side from the Orchid Show in Wahiawa (which btw was very pretty and smelled nice) and decided that Pearlridge Uptown was a good place to stop and take care of a couple errands. My Mom needed to return an item, and I needed to exchange a gift - a book - that I won't name by name, but if you've ever been pregnant, or bought a book for someone who's pregnant, you probably know which series of books I'm talking about.

I, myself am not a fan of this very popular series of books. My tolerance for books that feel more like an episode of Scare Tactics rather than encouraging you to trust your body is barely visible. Even though this book had more to do with the raising of a child than it did with pregnancy, it still came from the same shitty heritage of books that can suck a big fat one. Wherein lies my decision to exchange the gift. Hence our decision to brave the mall.

There we were, Sebastien fast asleep in his stroller, and my tired, tortured, sleep deprived body, in line, ready to exchange the (well meaning, but sorry I just can't do it) gift for the glorious book of my choosing. The cashier looked at the gift receipt and then back at me. And she looked confused. And I was kind of oblivious (see the part about sleep deprivation). I was trying to return the item to the WRONG BOOK STORE. Not just the wrong location, but the wrong chain of stores all together.

I felt more like an ass than I probably should have. I do realize I've been wrestling a newborn for sleeping rights (and losing horribly) for a month and a half. Oh well...I'll probably never see that cashier again. And if I do, I won't remember her face. I'm so tired I can barely see past my unibrow.

I guess the next book in the series should be "What Not To Expect When You Were Expecting To Exchange This Book For Something Better".

Great Expectations

Holy shit. Rufus, Sebastien and I survived our first trip to the market without a chaperone. After I fed Sebastien this morning - while Dave fed me...no seriously, he sat right there and fed me potatoes and scrambled eggs while I fed Sebastien...

Yes you are reading this correctly. This is the man that suffered me learning how to drive standard (while I was pregnant), works his tail off in a hot kitchen all day, puts up with my moody rants and babbles, and gets up super early to be Sebastien's butler so I can get a couple hours of real sleep. Then cooks me breakfast AND feeds it to me before going to work. Yes I know I'm lucky. Yes, I still complain sometimes.

Anyhow, while I was at the market, I had an encounter with a girl who was pregnant with her first kid. She saw Sebastien sleeping like an angel in his car seat, which I had propped up in the shopping cart (safe, or no?), and she immediately got goo goo faced and smiley over him. The look of pure excitement and anticipation was all over her body language...and all I could do was smile and say, CONGRATULATIONS!!! Yayeeee!...as my voice trailed off...

I should have told her how hard it gets. How lonely you can feel sometimes. How your plans and romantic notions about motherhood will be gutted by the reality that you have no idea what you are doing. How even though you'll have more help than you'd feel comfortable asking for, you'll still want to crumble into a million pieces if it means you can sleep for 20 extra minutes between each feeding. How you will reach a new level of exhaustion everyday, and then top it a hundred times over the next. How labor and delivery are the easiest part. But who wants to hear that? Who wants to SAY that? To a stranger. Who's pregnant and hormonal. And goo goo faced over your 5 1/2 week old sleeping angel. Not I.

Then again, I wish someone had told me. Just like that - in the raw. Even though I probably wouldn't have believed it...


There's no better preparation for your first child than your first child.


And they say it gets easier. For me, like most things people tell me, I'll believe it when I see it.

Hold Everything

I've become the master of doing everything fast. For instance, I no longer sit on the toilet for 20 minutes and read Dwell magazine while the wind blows and the birds chirp outside the window. Oh no. Now it's more like, if your digestive system is not bursting and crying for mercy, and if you can't do your thing in 10 seconds or less, or before the kiddo demands his next meal and some cuddle time, forget about it for the next 3 hours. Just forget about it. Hold everything. Hold that thought, that idea, that lyric, that pee, that...everything. Your little one needs you to put the pacifier back in his mouth for the thousandth time today.

Well Played

Congratulations Anuhea, One Hawaii, and Warren Wyatt for setting up the sickest tour ever!


Smack dab in the middle of the Right Love Tour, Anuhea and The Green are taking the stage at the grand daddy of all music and film industry showcases, SXSW. If you're in the Austin area, pat yourself on the back, then go see them and other Hawaiian flag toting artistes at Roy's in Austin, Texas on March 20.

Anuhea also plays a handful of other dates at SXSW before heading east to finish off the Right Love tour, which ends up at the legendary Bowery Electric, New York City. How sweet is THAT!!!

For full Right Love Tour info, go here.

For more on Hawaii's presence at SXSW 2010, go here.


See you when you get back!

Much Needed

Their company saved the day today! Thank you.

Grouch-fest

I think someone in the neighbor's house just saw by boob. Or at least part of it. But it's okay because these - things - on my chest can hardly be considered boobs anymore. Much less 'tits' or 'fun bags'. I don't know what they are, or how long the plan to just...hang around, but I'll be glad when they can fit back into my old clothes.

So it's barely past noon, and I've already gone through several onesies because Sebastien keeps yaking milk all over himself. He's been up and grumpy since 4:30 this morning and shows no signs of cheering up for the next ten years. At least his cuteness makes up for his less-than-appetizing bedside manner. But the cuteness is cancelled out by the realization that there are still 12 more hours left in the day.

Ooo he's sleeping. No, he's just blinking for a really long time.

My First Pyrex

During a recent random scan of the housewares shelf at Goodwill, I found this glass pot! One day I'll have my own kitchen where this and other Goodwill houseware items can become good friends. Until then, this sweet find will live with my Mom's pots in her Manoa kitchen.

Human Cheese?

So last night I (we...Dave, Sebastien, Rufus, and Kelli) actually went out. As in got in the car, drove on the street, and ended up somewhere other than a doctor's office. Not that doctors offices are less than entertaining...it was kind of funny when Sebastien gave the nurse a golden shower last month...It's just that when most 'outings' take us to either Kuakini or Castle Medical Center, the view can get a little narrow. For instance, the highlight of my morning was when Dave chased the chickens out of the yard with the water hose. He doesn't know I saw him do it. That's why it was so funny.

I'm exaggerating. I went to Bookends the other week (but it was after a doctor's appointment!). 

But still, do you know how exciting this was for me? To be out, AFTER DARK, listening to LIVE music, talking to ADULTS, drinking `awa!!! Holy shit. I felt what it was like to be me, exactly 1 year ago. Thank you Diamond Head Cove for saving me from my computer screen for a couple hours.

In other news (Dave told me about this one), a Manhattan chef has been banned from serving cheese made from his wife's breastmilk. PAUSE. Maybe last year, when it had been a quarter of a century since my last encounter with breastmilk, my radar would have stayed asleep for this one. But now...it's up. Way up. OK, un-pause.

It's not that breastmilk is gross or anything. It's the only thing I want to feed my baby. But consuming the stuff that looks (and probably smells) like the stuff that comes back up if I don't burp him enough...yeeccchhh. My favorite part of the story was that the chef served the human cheese to his wife without telling where it came from! WHAT! How sneaky. I'm starting to like this guy more and more.

But don't get any ideas Honey. I like cheese. Let's keep it that way.

Hi Mom!

Boys will be boys will be...BOYS.

Ear Candy

Tonight and every Sunday at Fresh Cafe, Candy Diaz hosts an Open Mic from 7-10p. Candy is the first (and as of right now, the only) follower of Echo & Heighten. Visit her tonight at 831 Queen Street or see what she's up to on Facebook.

I'd go, but I have a date with my son.

Ode To Rufus

Ever since Sebastien was born, Rufus has been threatening to run away with the circus. Here he is practicing his mouth-eye coordination. I told him he'd have to do better than this because even though it's a low paying gig, I hear the Chinese, and Vegas for that matter, both have very high standards.

One-Handed

MUSIC: I grew up on piano lessons and Leonard Cohen cassettes. I learned to play guitar because it's easier than piano. I tried to write songs because my insides wanted out. I recorded other people's records because I got sick of my music. I joined a band because I like people. I quit the band so I could keep liking people. I stopped everything because I got pregnant. I am back because I find myself wanting more.

MOTHERHOOD: I recently joined the Mommy club with the birth of my son, Sebastien. Hello diapers and sore nips. Goodbye independence (for now). I had 9 months to prepare to be a Mama, so I got a dog and spent most of it preparing to give birth. The birth was fabulous. No more Mama scrimmage - game time *tsua*!!!

MISC: I have many loves besides music and my family; some of which I may or may not write about in this here blog, and may or may not include the following subjects: photography, sewing, furniture, books, love itself, your mom... You get the idea.

From here on out I will do my best to keep myself entertained while my son falls asleep in my arms, causing my whole left arm and right butt cheek to fall asleep as well. Why a blog? Well, my imaginary friend/reader, it's easier to type than it is to play my guitar with one hand. Mustn't wake the little beast.

Music makes me think. Thinking makes me write. Echo. Heighten. Echo. Heighten.