Easter girl

Boy, I love me some then and now pics:

My dad

This is a picture of my dad, taken nearly five years ago in the stairwell of a church. He was waiting for me to come downstairs so he could walk me down the aisle.

Tomorrow is his birthday, as well as the one-month anniversary since he died. I know I have been a terribly absent from this blog for months now, for this reason and many others. But no matter how hard it is to put into words, I really don't feel like I can blow right past this part of my life, so here I am.

Dad's illness came on quite suddenly. He was sick in January, diagnosed with cancer in February, passed away in March. He had pancreatic cancer, which had spread to his liver and stomach. When we realized how serious things were I took two weeks off work, and Mia and I went to New Mexico to spend time with him. I thought we were just going home for some good family times - you know, barbecues, laughs, family photos - before the chemotherapy or the cancer made him too sick for that sort of thing. But he took a terrible turn for the worse on the seventh day of our visit, and four days later he was gone.

I can barely stand to think about how much I love and miss this man, much less put into words. His death just feels ... too big. But there is something I want to write about.

One thing I learned about losing a parent is that folks who have already been through this are invaluable. Much like having a baby, it's one of those things you can't truly understand unless you have experienced it yourself. And as I was trying to calm myself and make travel arrangements, a dear friend who lost her mother eight years ago told me that even in an experience as heartbreaking as this one, there would be "moments of beauty" at the end. And she was right. So here are a few of the memories that, along with the grief, I will carry in my heart.

- The talk my dad had with us three kids the week before he died. He had us all sit down with him in my brother's living room, and he told us how much he loved us. And one by one, he described to each of us exactly why he was so proud of us. He said that if he played even a very small part in making us the people we are today, he considers his life a huge success. My brothers and I are so very, very lucky that we had the chance to hear those words from him.

- My brothers standing at dad's bedside for 12-plus hours at a time on the last two nights of his life. Dying is very hard work, both on the person doing it and the people around them. And my brothers spent two entire nights helping dad adjust his body, bringing his basin when he was ill and then cleaning him up, fixing his pillows and blankets, giving him his pain meds and, at the end, calming him when he woke up in a delirium, often frightened and confused. Those two boys were superhuman, loving and patient, bottling up their fear and sadness so they could put on a brave face for our dad. I will never, ever forget how incredible they were.

- My dad raising his hand weakly to wave at Mia the day before he died. It was the last piece of "him" I ever saw. I didn't even know he was awake - he had seemed mostly unconscious all morning. But when I picked Mia up and stood by his bed, she began exclaiming "Pa! Pa!" I turned to look at him, and his crumpled hand was waving around in front of his face. His eyes weren't even open, but he found the strength to wave at his granddaughter. God, he loved that little girl.

- The one moment of regret I ever saw on my dad's face, when he and I had a few minutes alone together in his hospital room a couple of days before he died. When I was trying to tell him how much I would miss him, I collapsed crying on his chest, a familiar place where I had been comforted and loved countless times before. Then I told him how much Mia loved him. And he got a wistful, faraway look and said, "Man, I wish I was gonna be here..." That was it. It was only wobbly moment I ever saw in the man who spent his final weeks on earth comforting us.

- The night of the memorial service, after the guests had left my brother's house, my brothers, Sal and I got out dad's bottle of terribly cheap scotch and had a toast to him. It was all smiles and love and laughter. Then the guys went out to the front porch to gather around the fire pit and smoke dad's cigars, Swisher Sweets. The smell of that cigar smoke creeping into the house filled and broke my heart all at once.

Dad, I will miss you forever.

Why, world? Why?!?!

We filmed the most hilarious video of Mia this weekend.

Fresh out of the bathtub, she was prancing around the house wearing only a fuzzy kitty-cat hoodie towel draped over her head. She beamed at the camera as she darted here and there, her little paunchy belly sticking out as the pink terrycloth waved in the breeze behind her. She busied herself collecting a remote control and a couple of stuffed animals to bring over to Chickens, who was laying in his bed looking rather unnerved about the entire thing.

I thought it would be funny to share on the blog, so I went to upload the video. But the moment I named the file something like "naked kitty cat," I paused. And I thought of a question I will no doubt ask myself thousands of times in the next 20 years.

What about the perverts?

I realized I wasn't sure if this kind of thing is allowed. Posting naked pictures of your baby online? Is that a no-no?

So I turned to my online moms group, and I posed the question to them. They were unanimous in their opinion that, no, this isn't something you ought to do nowadays. But their reasoning absolutely floored me.

Maybe you already knew this, but I certainly did not: Evidently the real danger isn't perverts at all. The danger is that you, the parent, might be mistaken for a pervert and have your kids taken away from you for something as innocent as a bathtub picture.

They shared a story about two Arizona parents who took bathtub photos of their kids while on vacation. When a Walmart employee processing the film saw them and notified authorities, Child Protective Services took the three daughters away for a month. Another story is going on right this minute: A dad in California took his laptop in for service, and among his thousands of family photos were a several his unclothed kids playing in a bathtub and on the couch. A computer technician reported them to the sheriff's office, and seven months later the two kids are still in foster care, separated from their parents and from each other.

I don't even know what else to say about this. Except that it's a cryin' shame you'll never be able to admire the absolute perfection that is my baby's adorable little tushie, and that if this laptop ever goes on the fritz, we'll just have to back over it with the car and buy a new one. And that I am aghast that there is SOMETHING SCARIER THAN REAL, LIVE PERVS.

One on the way

I'm getting sick of the fact that nobody is updating this blog, so I have decided to do it myself. Thankfully, I have news to report! See that wee little person up there floating in space? That's our new baby. It's supposed to come out and meet us in late June.

So far it has been a fine pregnancy. I'm 17 weeks along with a nice round belly and few complaints. In fact, I frequently forget that I'm pregnant. A few weeks ago when I was feeling a little sniffly, I proudly exclaimed to Sal how happy I am that I can take Nyquil again. He looked perplexed, so I explained that since I'm not breastfeeding anymore, I FINALLY have my whole body all to myself and can down whatever medicines I want! So he goes, "Yeah, but pregnant women can't take Nyquil." "Yeah, I KNOW," I said impatiently, "but... "

Oh. Right.

I'm sure the ease of this pregnancy has something to do with the fact that I spend so much time chasing down a 14-month-old toddler. A toddler who is frequently chasing down the gimpy dog while waving her Pooh bear wildly in the air and bellowing at the top of her lungs. With all that going on, who has time to notice every twinge and ache and wave of nausea? (OK, I did notice the nausea. But that's all gone now.)

It's also nice to feel like we only have one or things to do to get ready, as opposed to one or two million. Since we didn't know Mia was a girl until she was born, we have plenty of gender-neutral baby clothes (we won't be finding out this time, either). We have a lovely bedroom for it to sleep in (we're even throwing in a noisy but adoreable roommate!) and two parents who have been nicely seasoned. I'm also hoping for a maternity leave that is blissfully free of animal emergency rooms and spinal surgeries and paralyzed dogs who weep in the night. Oh, wouldn't that be WONDERFUL??!! Fingers crossed, everyone!

Catch-up time

Holy crap. It is damned well nearly Christmas, meaning I have been working on this post for almost two months. AND IT'S JUST PICTURES! I am learning that this blogging-for-five-minutes-here-and-there thing is not the most productive thing in the world. But I will not, I repeat, I will not give up on you, chickenbonejones.blogspot.com!

OK. Well, forever ago, it was Mia's first birthday. We had a small party for her, at which she ate pizza for the first time, looked kinda freaked out when we sang to her, and then helped unwrap a present or two. Obligatory cake shot:

Her actual birthday was the next day, a Monday. Dad and I took the day off. We started with brunch at The Flames, then went to Happy Hollow, where we watched a puppet show, rode a carousel, and enjoyed the meerkat exhibit.



Probably her favorite birthday gift was a balloon bouquet sent by dear friends of ours who live in New York. She was absolutely entranced by them. (That animal whose head I chopped off with the camera is that one orange girl Muppet whose name I can never remember.) (At least, I think it's a Muppet? Do they still do those?)


Those balloons lasted for some time, and Mia insisted on clutching them wherever she went. Here's breakfast about a week later.


Of course, this is not a new obsession. This summer we went to a furniture store to look for a new kitchen table, and five minutes after we arrived, Mia started to get squawky. The clever sales lady offered her a fat orange balloon, and I swear she didn't let go of that thing for the rest of the day.


Speaking of baths, we finally graduated to the real tub. I had to go buy a new hooded towel because Mia is too tall for baby towels. I let her choose which animal she wanted, and much to Chickenbone's disappointment, she settled on the pink kitty-cat. (Look close at this kissing picture and notice mom getting the full-on French-a-roo. I swear I'll cry the day she learns how to do a real kiss, because the slobbery tongue thing is, to my surprise, off-the-charts adorable.)


But guess who REALLY loves that Mia kisses with an open mouth. (In fact, we're pretty convinced it was Chickens who taught her to kiss that way to begin with. Hopefully he'll leave the potty training to us! HA! HAHAHA! Just a little dog-bladder-expressing humor. Don't mind me!)


On Halloween, a little dog came to visit!


One of Mia's favorite "toys" is this cardboard box of junk. Lids, bowls, cups and various other bits of kitchen things that she can bang together to her heart's content. Recently a blue and gold SJSU pom-pom made it into the mix as well.


The box also contains Mardi Gras beads - I can always tell when she has put them on because the thump-thump-thump of her crawling on the hardwood floor turns to thump-rattle-thump-rattle-thump-rattle.


Here's the day Mia crawled into the dog's cage to see what the big deal is. When Chickens is inside, she loves to smash her face up against the bars so he can kiss her. I did not see him leaping up to return this favor when the roles were reversed.


Mia's starting to get a pretty good sense of humor. I don't know how she knows it's hilarious to put things on your head, but almost every meal ends with her doing this and cracking herself up. And she's right - comedy gold, I say!


In other news, she is almost a walker. First steps have been taken (on a day mom and dad were off, so we were her two-person cheering section) and every day she strings together a few more steps. She only crawls when she wants to be a hell of a lot faster than that - which is most of the time. She has six teeth. She knows how to sign "pig," "cat," "dog" and "horse," and in her picture books she can identify the banana, the airplane, the boy and the kitty-cat. Looking forward to a Christmas with her where she actually knows what's going on, and I'm sure we'll visit Santa real soon. That could easily go one of two ways. Mia loves new people, especially when they are jolly, so it could be fine. But plopping her on the lap of a crazy-looking man and then backing away to snap some pictures, I can also see it ending in back-arching get-me-outta-here hysterics. I suppose as long as she doesn't try to french him, it'll be OK.

The year in pictures

Mia's dad made this to show at her birthday party. Everyone was getting a real kick out of it until about halfway through, when she crawled over to the DVD player, shut it off, then turned around and grinned triumphantly. By the time Sal got over there and turned it back on, it had already passed the naked bathtub picture, so I am pretty sure the whole thing was intentional. Mia's wicked smart.

Happy birthday, sweet girl.

Mia's first year from Amy on Vimeo.

I am here. I am alive.

Wow. I'm like the worst storyteller ever.

If you are still hanging in there on ol' Chickenbone Jones - and I can't blame you if you aren't - then thanks. I really love writing in this blog, and I really love when you read it, and I feel horrible that I went this long without posting, especially when my last post ended on a bit of a cliffhanger.

In my defense, though, it would be easier to finish that "Setback" chapter if things were actually finished. To make a long story short, Chickens did just fine on the crate rest, and seemed to be back to his old self again. For about five minutes. Then, in developments that were either related to the setback or unrelated to the setback, in mid-September we entered a difficult stretch in which Chickens was having violent leg spasms, lots of trouble walking and copious amounts of diarrhea. We discovered some sort of problem with his back left foot, and he is obsessed with licking it, and that makes the spasms worse because the whole thing gets red and irritated, and it's even harder for him to walk than usual. These problems continue today.

We have been to a bunch of vet appointments - some at the regular vet, some at the fancy surgery vet - and there seems to be no answer other than this: We just have a very messed-up dog. In other words, regular problems that happen to healthy dogs are much more difficult when they happen to Chickens. His little nerves don't fire correctly, and lots of his muscles are either way too strong or way too weak. One small irritation on his paw might feel totally crazy to him and he can't leave it alone, which just makes things worse. The leg spasms can topple his whole back end, which makes him stop in his tracks and not move anymore. We are carrying him around more and not letting him use his dog ramp much because he's just not a good mover right now. It is frustrating for him and for us.

The most important thing, though, is that he's not in pain. He is lovable and smiley and tries all the time to wag his little limp tail. When one of us sits on the couch, he loves to sit on our laps snuggled up in a warm blanket. And now that his sister is mobile, those two adore taking turns chasing each other down and planting kisses on the other's face. He's a happy dog, and that matters more than all the rest.

Speaking of his sister ... guess who has a birthday next week!

The festivities have already begun, as we picked up her grandma and one of her four grandpas at the airport last night. I am looking forward to posting all 12 of my monthly Mia-in-the-chair photos when I take the last one on Monday, her first birthday. So, see? I already have my next post planned. Stick around, will ya?