Shh..it's a secret.

I arrived home at about 11 o'clock on Saturday night, after a mini-road trip to visit a friend who lives about an hour away. I thought I was ready for bigger field trips, but apparently this was a little bigger than Ragnarson and I could take because I was literally weeping with exhaustion. Stumbling into the house I almost tripped over a couple of packages that had been tucked in between the door and the screen. I had ordered a few baby things last week, long sleeve onsies, diaper covers...really exciting shit right? so I didn't think much of it. I dropped them in my chair and staggered off to bed, hoping for a few minutes of sleep before Ragnarson woke up for his midnight nosh.

So I didn't take a close look at the packages until the next morning. One of them was baby stuff, but the other had a mysterious post mark from Wisconsin...who do I know in Wisconsin? No one that would be sending me things.

What ho? A package full of piratey swag and yarn? Yay for secret pals who send packages timed to arrive precisely when you need a little pick me up!

Ragnar...I can take non-blurry photos, I swear.

Arrr you talking to me?

It seems like everyday is “something” day. Hug a Monkey Day, National Eat Your Brussel Sprouts Day, International Day of Random Violence etc. Usually they go uncelebrated except by a select few, probably those who lobbied to have it proclaimed in the first place. Not so International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Everyone celebrates ITLPD. Ragnarson’s grandparents even sent him a ITLPD card, with a pirate themed T-shirt so that he wouldn’t be caught out with nothing to wear to the party.

You might be familiar with Highland Games like the Caber Toss and The Guess What I’ve Got Under My Kilt Contest, but unless you are a really dedicated Pirate Talker, you probably aren’t familiar with the Pirate Games.

These include, the Wench Press:

X-Marks the Spot, which is sort of a treasure, hunt:

The Bilge Water Drinking Contest:

And Who’s Got the Baby?:

I couldn’t tell you who the winners were, because I was too far gone from the Bilge Water Drinking Contest and I didn’t make it to the awards ceremony.

Anyway, if you weren’t there, you shoulda been. We had a parrot…

And Melanie made me a dangerous, but delicious cappuccino.

But now I have the post ITLPD blues, knowing that it's all over until next year. I will cope by making elaborate plans that in spite of my best intentions will not be undertaken until the last minute.

Ragnar....keep on talkin'

Arrrrr you ready?

It be International Talk Like a Pirate Day tomorrow, you lubberly scallywags. Arrrr you ready to get yer plunder on? If yer liferaft washes up near Lansing (and that would be a feat, since we're landlocked here) you better take your booty down to The Caffe on Michigan Ave, where we will be drinkin' our coffee black, and talkin' like the lowest, scurviest, most dastardly pirates it was ever your ill luck to cross cutlasses with. Ragnarson will be there, representing for the Vikings, the pirates of the north.

See you there, or see you in Davy Jones locker!

Ragnar...if you're a pirate, then whatever you say is talkin' like a pirate, in'it?

Urban Babysitting...

There's a theory of new motherhood known as the "babymoon." You lounge around the house bonding with your baby for the first month or so, and keep the visitors to the minimum. This gives mom a chance to recover from delivery and get to know her baby, gives dad a chance to snuggle with his new family, and everything gets off to a rosy start.

Sounds good in theory right, but I'm not a sitting around the house kinda girl. The first week yes, I needed the rest and recuperation, and even the second week I kept "fieldtrips" to a minimum. After that though? Where are we going to go today Ragnarson? I'm not talking about a full day of running errands, or anything like that, just one "getting out of the house," expedition per day. Sometimes we would meet Eli for lunch, last Sunday we went to the yarn store...but usually we go to "the caffe."

I don't know if I've blogged about the caffe before, but it's a local coffee roastery which is cool in and of itself. The crazy thing about the caffe however, are the irregulars. If you come in more than once, you are adopted into the family, and the next time you come in you can expect to be greeted by name. It took me awhile to get used to this actually, since I'm not a touchy lovey type of girl...but the coffee is so good I couldn't stay away, and I'm used to it now.

When they found out that I was pregnant the first question was "can we be part of your village?" At the time I said "sure," thinking, "village, whatever." But that was before I had a 26 day old baby. When you have a newborn the idea of a village becomes really appealing.

Our morning ritual: sleep in as long as possible, then get up and nurse for exactly 15 minutes on each side (the minimum amount required to travel the 5 blocks up to the caffe). Bundle the baby into one of our many baby carriers. (I went baby carrier crazy, I have 5 of them). Walk up to the caffe and pass the baby off to anyone sitting at the bar, this gives me time to order a cappuccino and possibly even take a sip before he wants to nurse again. Whoever has him will bring him back to me as soon as he starts crying, so it works out pretty well. Then he'll nurse for awhile while I do a crossword puzzle or (yay!) update the blog, and when he's done (okay, he's never done, when I pry him off after an hour or so) I pass him over to someone else and finish my (now lukewarm) cappuccino. It's friggin fantastic! Before he was born I mentally committed myself to "in arms" parenting, meaning no strollers, no cribs, keeping him close to me while I'm working throughout the day, etc. I still think that it's important, but I've realized that it doesn't always have to be my arms he's in.

The other great thing is that there is another couple at the caffe who have a six week old baby, so at times there will be two nursing babies hanging out at the coffee bar. Always a plus when you're getting used to nursing in public.

Things I just realized yesterday. 1). the computer fits in the diaper bag. 2). while Ragnarson is being passed around by all and sundry I could theoretically knit something!

Ragnar...bring me my village!!

Baby blogging...

It is fascinating to realize that I could have been pregnant for 38 weeks and not grasp the fact that I would be ending up with a newborn baby. I thought to myself "baby," not realizing that truly new babies never leave the house and that I had never actually met one.

So here's the dish on newborns, they have exactly six tricks: sleeping (which they don't do nearly enough of), eating (which they do ALL the time, even when they are sleeping), squalling, flailing their arms about (which complicates sleeping and eating and frequently results in squalling), creating dirty diapers (also non-stop), and occasionally cooing and looking around in a way that makes you think they might turn into a human being at some point. And the crazy thing about being a new mom is that all of this is enchanting and endlessly fascinating.

Actual quote from Ragnar to baby: "Oh, do you have a pooey diaper? Pooey ooey diaper."

Embarrassing but true.

The grandparents were in town last week which meant I got to do things like take naps, and showers....I think I even brushed my teeth at some point. Mostly their visit consisted of me nursing the baby and them being grandparents, by which I mean that they were endlessly fascinated by all six of baby's newborn skills.

At some point though we got to talking about all the different baby organizations, and how people can get so obsessed about certain aspects of babies and parenting. Like N.I.N.O. who think babies should get nine months of being carried on the outside in addition to the nine months on the inside...I agree coincidentally. And La Leche League, the breastfeeding enforcers, who I also agree with, but people get sort of weird about breastfeeding and breastmilk, and it all gets to be a bit much.

Example: Storknet has a recipe for breastmilk cottage cheese. First ingredient? 16 cups of breastmilk. Yeah. Okay. Because I've got an extra 16 cups of breastmilk that needs to be turned into cheese. Uh-huh.

Or even creepier: Mother's milk ice cream. Check out that logo, perky pink nipples and everything. I can't tell for sure but it seems to be someone's school project, but the idea of a commercially available ice cream made from human milk brings up some questions...like who exactly are they milking?

Ragnar....it's all I do, so it's what I'm thinkin' about.