October 28, 2003. You know how they always have a picture of a baby on the back of cotton ball packages? And also on Q-Tip packages? Why? I always assumed there was some really obvious baby-tending function that required cotton balls and Q-Tips. But I've had this baby about two-and-a-half months now, and I have yet to bring a cotton ball or a Q-Tip anywhere near him. I honestly can't think of what I would use them for, unless I decided to give him the most laborious sponge bath ever.

October 19, 2003. Exciting news: Dave and I bought a house! Faithful readers will know that we have been looking for a house for about two years now. When we started, we had all kinds of criteria: Dave had to fit in it (he's not that tall -- 6'3" -- but that seems to be tall enough to be a problem), garage, basement, three bedrooms, quiet street, etc. By the end we had given up on every wish but two: Dave had to fit in the house, and it couldn't be creepy. We had actually made offers on several houses, but didn't get any of them. I guess the other assumed criterion is that we had to be able to afford the house (or at least not think it was outrageously overpriced, something else that's hard to find in this area).

But I am in total shock, because we found this house that has everything we initially wanted, and more. It's really tall everywhere, is sunny and has excellent flow, has a two-car garage, and a walk-up attic which will be a perfect loom room/office/general hobby area. And it's on a quiet street in a great neighborhood. I had completely expected that we would end up buying a house on the corner of a busy street somewhere. PLUS it has a great fireplace and stained glass windows! And a built-in china cabinet! And a front porch AND a back porch! And a nice yard! AND it was totally reasonably priced! We are in total shock. Mostly we are also in shock that we bid on this house and actually got it. I have to say that this is the only house we have bid on where I felt like I would be truly heartbroken if we didn't get it. So I think all of our searching really has been just waiting for this particular house to come on the market.

It does have some problems, of course. It needs to be painted everywhere and the floors need to be refinished (but they're maple and are going to be gorgeous). There's a part of the ceiling in one of the bedrooms where the plaster came off in a big chunk, so we have to patch that. And they enclosed the front porch at some point, and really enclosed it, so it's all walled off with two weensy windows. So we'll definitely want to open that up and either make it a regular front porch, or a screened-in front porch. Oh, and it has one-and-a-half baths, but, randomly, the full bath is on the first floor and the half bath is on the second. So we have to go downstairs to shower. But I love this house so much that I probably would have wanted it if it only had an outhouse.

I have so many things to say about this, I can already tell this is going to be an absurdly long post.

One thing is that we have been getting so discouraged in our house search, and it was making me really sad because I was starting to take it personally. I felt like, "We're good people, why won't the universe let us buy a house? Why is it letting us be continually disappointed?" But I really do feel like it was all just a matter of waiting for this particular house. So I can go back to my usual life-view of trusting the universe to know what's right.

I am also surprised by a lot of feelings that have come up since we found out that we got the house. I was talking with my friend Jessica S. and saying something along the lines of how she could come over all the time to our new house. This is a silly thing to say, since she comes over to our current house all the time, and is, in fact, a "fridge friend" (someone who can help herself to stuff in your kitchen without asking, and knows where things are) (I read an article sometime back about how you can measure the richness of your life in how many fridge friends you have). But I realized that I feel like all the time we've spent in rental houses, waiting to move, has felt like such transience and limbo that it's like our memories haven't really counted. That every time Jessica came to our house, something deep inside me would think, "This is great, just hanging out here, but I wish we were in our house." Because the houses we rented never really seemed like ours. Like when Jessica goes to get the sugar out of the cabinet, it's like she's getting the sugar out of someone else's cabinet entirely (our landlords' cabinet, really). All of this hadn't really occurred to me before. I suddenly realized it when I realized how happy I was imagining our new life in our new house. Our new house. Sigh. I am so positively giddy about this.

October 13, 2003. Thanks everyone for your nice emails about Theo. They helped a lot. As did having Henry around, I have to admit. And Peatie (Peatie seems to be doing fine). Also, Dave's parents were here for four days to meet Henry for the first time, so it was very nice to be able to hang out with them for a while, and it also did keep my mind off of Theo.

But here's something that will definitely make us all feel better. Henry is dressed like a grunge rocker today:

In case you can't tell, his t-shirt says, "A surprise will appear in my pants."

October 7, 2003. Sad news, everyone. Our poor Theo died. For a few days now he's seemed pretty depressed, but I was chalking that up to resentment over the baby. But he also hadn't been eating, and that's pretty unusual for him. Still, he would perk up when I went to him and purr like a demon, so I was still thinking it might just be depression. Though, honestly, I worried that it might be more. This morning, when I went to him, he had suddenly (literally, overnight) grown what appeared to be a tumor on his face. I brought him to the vet immediately, and it turns out he had advanced liver disease (and it wasn't a tumor, but an infection having to do with fluids, or something, I don't know, I honestly wasn't paying that much attention to the details at that point). So we had to put him down. I think he was definitely ready to go; he seemed fairly uncomfortable. Anyway. So it's a sad day here at World of Julie. I tried to talk to Peatie about it, but he didn't want to seem to talk about it. I had brought Peatie to Theo this morning, but Peatie was in avoidance mode (this may be me projecting, but that's what it seemed like). Peatie has also been super-duper needy the past week, which I'm sure has been a combination of Henry and of knowing what's been happening with Theo.

October 6, 2003. More smiley Henry:

He's really so fun to have around. I don't really feel like a mom though. A friend of mine asked me, "So, does it freak you out to be a mom?" and my honest reaction was, "What? What are you talking about?" (I mean, that was my split-second reaction, it wasn't like I actually forgot or anything.) I feel more like Henry is this fun little pal that someone dropped off. I get to play for much of the day with this smiley little guy, who actually likes it when I sing to him, and who seems to find my jokes at least mildly amusing. And who seems to enjoy spending a great deal of time in my general chestal area.

He still seems to think sleep is for wimps. He has started sleeping a weensy bit longer -- occasionally in four hour chunks -- but something in his body seems to think 2.5 hours is optimal sleep duration. My body, however, doesn't agree. It's pretty amazing how I've managed to get by on this for so long though. Your body just seems to hit some sort of dealing point. There are definitely parts of the day, though, where a brilliantly constructed thought that's in my head just doesn't make it out properly. I'll start talking, and the words sort of fade away, and I smile sadly, hoping for the right noun.

Because I'm also in library school. Have I mentioned that? Regular readers will know I was bandying this idea about for a while, and it really seemed like now was a fine time to do it. And really, it is. It's all online, so most of what I do is while he's sleeping. Or sometimes while he watches me and I explain that I'm in school. He looks vaguely interested in the idea.

So that's what's happening with me, and that's why World of Julie updates have petered out considerably. I will try to write something up here when I can, though! I haven't forgotten about you all.

September 21, 2003. This past week Henry started smiling, for real. Earlier smiling photos were just luck, really. But now he smiles in reaction to us, especially when we tell him how adorable he is. Here's a photo, which also shows off his handsome dimples.

September 9, 2003. Things are still going well with Henry. The little guy still eats constantly. I'm looking forward to the time when he sleeps for longer than 2.5 hours at a stretch. That does happen at some point, right? He's so awfully cute and fun to be around, though, that I like having him awake also.

And for all of you who are curious about the cats after last month's mystery illness: they are doing fine. They are both walking almost completely normally, to the point where you probably wouldn't even notice them limping if you weren't looking for it. They continue to regard Henry as an oddity and amusement. Mostly they seem to look at him positively; Theo because he is happy about the increase in naps, and Peatie because he sees that Henry has tiny hands that will one day be big enough to scratch cat heads.

September 4, 2003.

Henry wants you to know that World of Julie updates will be occurring much less frequently. This is mainly due to his ravenous appetite. People think I'm exaggerating when I say he eats all the time. And then they visit, and say something like, "Wow, he eats all the time!" Yup. Some days all I get is a 5-15 minute break between feedings. I'm assuming (hoping) this will taper off as he puts on some weight and gets a bit older.

In fact, he's calling for me now...