This morning I visited about a dozen or so yard sales with my friend Christina. For $15.50, I scored:

+ six plain white short-sleeved onesies
+ grey and red baseball sleeve style onesie
+ lime green onesie
+ white polo and tan corduroy overalls outfit (12 mos)
+ two baby sunhats
+ a non-fiction book about Lincoln
+ two board books for Freya
+ a toy for her to play with on the flight to MI
+ small white picture frame
+ matted and framed picture of a cat (not tacky)
+ “Where the Sidewalk Ends” hardcover
+ four heavy highball glasses with xmas tree design cut into them (also not tacky)

Christina got books, wine glasses, a kiddie basketball hoop for her toddler, and a very cool vtech alphabet learning toy that Freya will inherit when Evan’s done with it. I think she spent around $10.

I’m so hooked on thrifting. It’s like I’m 22 again, only I’m looking for baby stuff instead of old t-shirts and records.

Sitting in the car, parked at the store while baby naps. That’s how it goes sometimes.

We visited a local art and framing shop to get a picture restored. I purchased the picture at Goodwill — it’s a drawing of SF’s Lombard Street, in a nice frame, cost me $1.79. It just needs a new mat and a piece of glass.

After that we wandered the neighboring antique store, looking for a dish to keep coarse salt in. I showed Freya all the funny little objects. But she was tired and didn’t care and I didn’t find what I wanted. The shop had lots of racist artifacts, grinning Mammy figurines, “Coon Chicken” spice jars, even a record of Nazi songs. Weird.

So Freya dozed off shortly after we were back on the road. Here we are, I’m stuck with an absolutely awful Danielle Steel paperback and no ballgame to listen to. I can see my baby sleeping in the rear view mirrors. It’s muggy and cloudy outside.

I think I’ll get us a whole rotisserie chicken and some vegetables to steam. And some breakfasty food… Eggos. Whole wheat. The berries in the store are either total garbage (flavorless strawberries more white than red), or insanely expensive (cherries for $8 a pound are you fucking kidding me?). The weather this spring has been a joke. It’s June and we haven’t had even a mini-heatwave yet.

In fact it is starting to rain again now.

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Sometimes I fear that Freya sees me as “boring old mommy”. She lights up with smiles when she sees Brian. I’m the milk lady, daddy is Fun Daddy! We spend every minute of the day together, there’s no novelty. I get sad and oversensitive when he’s holding her and she looks at me, poker faced. Oh, it’s *you*

I know, nuts. We do spend a lot of time together. I try to make it fun with stories, songs, dancing, play, etc. But Daddy’s so special!

She has to love me, right? But she’s daddy’s girl…

Edit: OMG am I seriously projecting my stupid rejection baggage onto my little baby? Stop it, Jane!

I have a very mild cold. But it’s enough that when I lay down, fluid runs down my throat, causing me to cough or clear my throat and wake the baby. Drat.

She pretty much slept through last night. Woke to nurse for twenty minutes at 4am. Fell right back to sleep. Wish every night was like that

Now we are laying here listening to the rain. Freya is freshly bathed and fuzzy headed and wants to play. Or nurse some more and hopefully. go back to sleep. Also listening to the ballgame. Mariners are on the right side of a blowout, for once.

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I’ve been corresponding with my aunt in Miami lately. We’ve always been in touch, but of late she’s been sharing a wealth of family stories I never knew anything about. I need to print and save these things for Freya.

I always thought of my aunt as this cool, funky lady. Didn’t see her too much as a kid, she’s always been in Florida.

She gave me a gold bar pendant necklace when I was a teenager, I still have it and wear it. I should tell her that.

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