This morning Madelyn woke up quite early. We spent a lovely morning reading, munching grapes and hanging out before Seh-A-Stwee came on at 7:00. Grapes are tied for her most favorite food. The co-winner? Raisins, of course.
Daddy has been trying to get Mad to say, "I love Mama." I did hear it this morning, but not before she said, "I love grapes." (FYI, I came in ahead of "I love fwog.")
After the love-fest, we watched Sesame Street like we usually do, with lots of running around and doing other stuff. Eventually Curious George came on and the narrator said something that I thought might have been good to know a few days ago:
"There's nothing like spending a long weekend in the country with some of your closest inflatable friends."
So... I hope your long weekend is everything you could have hoped it to be.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Day of Love and Disappointment
Well, it's that time of year again. Spouses all over will secretly be planning their requisite holiday sex just so they can get that special gleam in their eyes when someone asks, "And how was your Valentine's Day?"
Some frustrated girlfriends will be thinking, "If he doesn't ask me to marry him this time, that's IT!"
Teen boys will lament that their only Valentine came from their grandparents. (But at least you scored $10, right Corey?)
Little girls will wander around pointing out all the hawhts.
And us? Well we talked about how we might spend some time alone together. Tom suggested that we actually go see a movie. At the theater. I told one of my friends that the last movie we'd seen out was Knocked Up. She said that we ought to think very carefully about choosing what to see this time.
As it turns out, Mom's not available to watch Corey. Sure, he's 16 and not mentally retarded. Therefore he should be able to be left home alone. Ain't goin'a happ'n.
So anybody have romantic ideas that we can do at home with a teen and a toddler?
Dude... we did that. How do you think I got in this condition in the first place? Something a little original, please?
Yes, I know I'm asking at almost 10:00 on the night before Valentine's Day. What?!
Some frustrated girlfriends will be thinking, "If he doesn't ask me to marry him this time, that's IT!"
Teen boys will lament that their only Valentine came from their grandparents. (But at least you scored $10, right Corey?)
Little girls will wander around pointing out all the hawhts.
And us? Well we talked about how we might spend some time alone together. Tom suggested that we actually go see a movie. At the theater. I told one of my friends that the last movie we'd seen out was Knocked Up. She said that we ought to think very carefully about choosing what to see this time.
As it turns out, Mom's not available to watch Corey. Sure, he's 16 and not mentally retarded. Therefore he should be able to be left home alone. Ain't goin'a happ'n.
So anybody have romantic ideas that we can do at home with a teen and a toddler?
Dude... we did that. How do you think I got in this condition in the first place? Something a little original, please?
Yes, I know I'm asking at almost 10:00 on the night before Valentine's Day. What?!
Monday, February 08, 2010
Dear Dog
You are now over a year old, an age when I think a few things should be perfectly clear.
The crate is a pain in the rear for all of us. You don't like going into it. We don't like the space it takes up in the kitchen. Stop pooping on the carpet and we can put this whole thing behind us.
No, you can't have your bed in the crate at night. You ate your last one. And the way you flip the new one around... well, we're just not taking any chances, are we?
You need not follow me into the restroom. Even Mad will let me go alone most of the time, and she's younger than you in dog years. If you do happen to push your nose in and join me, do not make faces at any sounds you might hear. I don't judge what you do in your private moments, do I? Or if I do, it's to cheer you on. Maybe look a little less perplexed and a bit more rah rah if you insist on coming in.
And speaking of private moments, you're old enough to go outside and do your business alone. Peeing on the concrete because I am standing inside does not earn you any treats.
Running in the house is fine, as long as you don't knock anyone over. We'd love to take you for walks, but you ate your leash. A new leash has been placed on The List of Things We'd Like to Have But Are Not High Priorities Today. When we get through the list and down to the new leash, we'll let you know.
That's enough for now. Next time we'll address your other problems, like digging holes and pooping on the compost. Until then, mind your manners.
The crate is a pain in the rear for all of us. You don't like going into it. We don't like the space it takes up in the kitchen. Stop pooping on the carpet and we can put this whole thing behind us.
No, you can't have your bed in the crate at night. You ate your last one. And the way you flip the new one around... well, we're just not taking any chances, are we?
You need not follow me into the restroom. Even Mad will let me go alone most of the time, and she's younger than you in dog years. If you do happen to push your nose in and join me, do not make faces at any sounds you might hear. I don't judge what you do in your private moments, do I? Or if I do, it's to cheer you on. Maybe look a little less perplexed and a bit more rah rah if you insist on coming in.
And speaking of private moments, you're old enough to go outside and do your business alone. Peeing on the concrete because I am standing inside does not earn you any treats.
Running in the house is fine, as long as you don't knock anyone over. We'd love to take you for walks, but you ate your leash. A new leash has been placed on The List of Things We'd Like to Have But Are Not High Priorities Today. When we get through the list and down to the new leash, we'll let you know.
That's enough for now. Next time we'll address your other problems, like digging holes and pooping on the compost. Until then, mind your manners.
Friday, February 05, 2010
Walk of Shame
This was written on April 11, 2008. It was part of a longer story about how I went into labor the night before. Twenty-two hours after I wrote it we met Mad face to face for the first time.
I took the car to my pals at Big O in Ontario to get the oil changed. I wasn't sure if I was having lunch with Nance or not, and I hadn't eaten yet, so I decided to walk down the street three blocks or so to where all the food places are. For those of you who are familiar with the area, this is not the Big O at the Mills, this is the original Ontario location... on Holt. I adore Mike and Carlos, and they do great work, so that's where I go. Normally I would have taken Corey with me, but he had work to do and I was looking forward to girl time if I did get together with Nance. Plus, Corey whines every time we go to Casa... he says the food is bland, but he almost always orders the exact same thing... a bean and cheese burrito with rice and beans on the side... freak!
I knew that it would be kind of a long wait at Big O before I brought the car over, which is why I decided to trek down and get something to eat. I figured that waiting would only make me sick and that I'd have a harder time going if it became really necessary later. So I waddled off down the street.
Holt is a fairly busy street, and I heard lots of people honking at each other as I worked my way to Grinder Haven. Once there, I enjoyed a breakfast burrito (but no machaca like they used to make when I was a kid... grr), and then I headed back to Big O. Along the way there was still more honking, and try as I might, I never could see where anyone cut anybody else off or any other reason for people to be honking. Then a man in a Lexus SUV honked at me, pulled into the center lane and looked directly at me. I couldn't see him clearly, but I wondered if maybe I knew him from the Chamber or something... until he drove off and came back up the street and did a U-turn ahead of me (but on the other side).
Then I realized what I should have known from the get-go: I can't walk on Holt, land of hookers since well before I was a kid, alone! Even if I am nine months pregnant, wearing the entirely unsexy black polo shirt, jeans and flip flops. I'm on Holt. Alone! Idiot. And I'm not sure who the bigger idiot is here, me or the people who thought I could/would fulfill any pregnant woman fantasies. Seriously, do I look like a whore?
So when I got back to the shop I told Carlos, "Never let me walk unattended in this area again!" Poor guy. Horrified, he said, "Shannon, I didn't even see you leave. I would have given you a ride." What a sweetie. And besides, I wouldn't have taken the ride, I was going for the double benefit of eating and taking a walk.
I took the car to my pals at Big O in Ontario to get the oil changed. I wasn't sure if I was having lunch with Nance or not, and I hadn't eaten yet, so I decided to walk down the street three blocks or so to where all the food places are. For those of you who are familiar with the area, this is not the Big O at the Mills, this is the original Ontario location... on Holt. I adore Mike and Carlos, and they do great work, so that's where I go. Normally I would have taken Corey with me, but he had work to do and I was looking forward to girl time if I did get together with Nance. Plus, Corey whines every time we go to Casa... he says the food is bland, but he almost always orders the exact same thing... a bean and cheese burrito with rice and beans on the side... freak!
I knew that it would be kind of a long wait at Big O before I brought the car over, which is why I decided to trek down and get something to eat. I figured that waiting would only make me sick and that I'd have a harder time going if it became really necessary later. So I waddled off down the street.
Holt is a fairly busy street, and I heard lots of people honking at each other as I worked my way to Grinder Haven. Once there, I enjoyed a breakfast burrito (but no machaca like they used to make when I was a kid... grr), and then I headed back to Big O. Along the way there was still more honking, and try as I might, I never could see where anyone cut anybody else off or any other reason for people to be honking. Then a man in a Lexus SUV honked at me, pulled into the center lane and looked directly at me. I couldn't see him clearly, but I wondered if maybe I knew him from the Chamber or something... until he drove off and came back up the street and did a U-turn ahead of me (but on the other side).
Then I realized what I should have known from the get-go: I can't walk on Holt, land of hookers since well before I was a kid, alone! Even if I am nine months pregnant, wearing the entirely unsexy black polo shirt, jeans and flip flops. I'm on Holt. Alone! Idiot. And I'm not sure who the bigger idiot is here, me or the people who thought I could/would fulfill any pregnant woman fantasies. Seriously, do I look like a whore?
So when I got back to the shop I told Carlos, "Never let me walk unattended in this area again!" Poor guy. Horrified, he said, "Shannon, I didn't even see you leave. I would have given you a ride." What a sweetie. And besides, I wouldn't have taken the ride, I was going for the double benefit of eating and taking a walk.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
The Driving Issue and Other... Stuff
I noticed a sign at my office today, "Surrogate Parent Training." As I continued along the maze of my office, I came across a few people who I figured were likely to be offering the training.
"I see your sign for surrogate parent training. Do you need a kid? Because I have one. And your parents would be seriously trained after dealing with him."
They laughed like I was kidding.
For some reason I cannot fathom, the song "Hillbilly Bone" is stuck in my brain. It has been for the past three evenings. If you're not familiar with it, I beg you to resist looking it up. I think my problem began when I read an article about it and watched the accompanying video. Tragic. For me, not the video.
Yesterday I had three new tires put on my car (yes, Dad, only three... the fourth was replaced in June). I've known for a couple of months that they needed to be replaced, but we prioritized Christmas first. I'm not saying it was the best decision, only the one we made. Anyway, we've had the same tire shop/mechanic for about five years. They've had a couple of names, but the important part was the owner... or owners, really, Mike and Carlos. I have fond memories of their place... and one not so fond, too (it's part of Mad's story, and I'll try to get it up later tonight). The dudes retired last week and sold their shop.
I spoke with the new owner on the phone before going in. He seemed really nice and even gave me an excellent deal. When I arrived for my appointment, the front desk guy came out and knew exactly what I was there for. The owner came over and greeted me. Kinda made me feel like a rock superstar.
Getting the tires on took longer than I'd expected, but the new guys had more customers than I've seen around there lately. By the time my car was done, the owner was gone. The price ended up being even better than what I'd thought the owner had quoted, enough that I could have afforded the alignment they recommended (and which I know is needed). But timing-wise... I didn't want to be any later with my day than I already was, so I said I'd return sometime the next day.
As I drove away, the "low tire pressure" gauge came on, so I swung around and headed back. Not one, but three men told little old me (I really hate guys who act like that) that my car's computer would reset after driving a little bit.
"How far's a little bit?"
"Probably less than a block... but not more than 20 miles."
"I live 50 miles from here and don't want to come back after 100 miles to have it reset."
"It'll reset."
It did not reset.
I spoke with Nance, AKA Car Girl and she suggested go to the dealership. I stopped at the one up here to see if they could reset it for me.
"We can check it out. Uh, it'll be $97."
"That's crazy."
And from the back seat, "That's cwazy!"
"I'll be going somewhere else."
"Sorry."
I may have actually rolled my eyes at the service tech as I drove away.
When I dropped Mad off this morning, I asked Dad what he recommended. He told me how he manually resets his gauges. I think he forgot that I drive a Ford and he drives a Saturn. It seems to be important.
So I drove back to the shop today. Getting stuck behind a driver from Nebraska who, best as I can tell, marveled at every single intersection we crossed (no, not just the ones with pretty lights) did not improve my mood. (Nor did the Nebraska driver who apparently couldn't fathom going 70 uphill this afternoon. Dude, I know it's a big hill; it's called a mountain. It's okay! That's the speed limit. Hell, anything about 50 would be appreciated right now. The semis are passing us.)
Two of the three "hey there little lady" guys came over as soon as I got out.
"Did it reset?"
"It did not. How long will it take to reset it?"
"Probably about 10 minutes."
Nearly 20 minutes later, and after observing the service guy reading the manual to my car, the gauge was reset. The manual was crammed back into my glove box, but without the rest of the car guides. They were tossed on the front seat.
I understand not always knowing how to do everything on every single type of car. In fact, the first time I took my Hybrid Escape in to Mike for an oil change, the tech didn't reset the gauge. I went in and they worked it out, probably in a way very similar to how things happened today, only less obviously. The thing is, Mike and Carlos' place is a tire place. And the new owners had a tire place before. If people know tires and the associated stuff, they should know about tire pressure gauges, too, right? Right. It's not like my car is the newest thing on the road. So no, I didn't get the alignment done.
If anyone's got a referral for a reasonably knowledgeable mechanic, holla!
***That story about my not-so-fond memories will have to wait. Tom got home from softball with a lovely black eye and cuts in the shape of ball stitching.
"I see your sign for surrogate parent training. Do you need a kid? Because I have one. And your parents would be seriously trained after dealing with him."
They laughed like I was kidding.
For some reason I cannot fathom, the song "Hillbilly Bone" is stuck in my brain. It has been for the past three evenings. If you're not familiar with it, I beg you to resist looking it up. I think my problem began when I read an article about it and watched the accompanying video. Tragic. For me, not the video.
Yesterday I had three new tires put on my car (yes, Dad, only three... the fourth was replaced in June). I've known for a couple of months that they needed to be replaced, but we prioritized Christmas first. I'm not saying it was the best decision, only the one we made. Anyway, we've had the same tire shop/mechanic for about five years. They've had a couple of names, but the important part was the owner... or owners, really, Mike and Carlos. I have fond memories of their place... and one not so fond, too (it's part of Mad's story, and I'll try to get it up later tonight). The dudes retired last week and sold their shop.
I spoke with the new owner on the phone before going in. He seemed really nice and even gave me an excellent deal. When I arrived for my appointment, the front desk guy came out and knew exactly what I was there for. The owner came over and greeted me. Kinda made me feel like a rock superstar.
Getting the tires on took longer than I'd expected, but the new guys had more customers than I've seen around there lately. By the time my car was done, the owner was gone. The price ended up being even better than what I'd thought the owner had quoted, enough that I could have afforded the alignment they recommended (and which I know is needed). But timing-wise... I didn't want to be any later with my day than I already was, so I said I'd return sometime the next day.
As I drove away, the "low tire pressure" gauge came on, so I swung around and headed back. Not one, but three men told little old me (I really hate guys who act like that) that my car's computer would reset after driving a little bit.
"How far's a little bit?"
"Probably less than a block... but not more than 20 miles."
"I live 50 miles from here and don't want to come back after 100 miles to have it reset."
"It'll reset."
It did not reset.
I spoke with Nance, AKA Car Girl and she suggested go to the dealership. I stopped at the one up here to see if they could reset it for me.
"We can check it out. Uh, it'll be $97."
"That's crazy."
And from the back seat, "That's cwazy!"
"I'll be going somewhere else."
"Sorry."
I may have actually rolled my eyes at the service tech as I drove away.
When I dropped Mad off this morning, I asked Dad what he recommended. He told me how he manually resets his gauges. I think he forgot that I drive a Ford and he drives a Saturn. It seems to be important.
So I drove back to the shop today. Getting stuck behind a driver from Nebraska who, best as I can tell, marveled at every single intersection we crossed (no, not just the ones with pretty lights) did not improve my mood. (Nor did the Nebraska driver who apparently couldn't fathom going 70 uphill this afternoon. Dude, I know it's a big hill; it's called a mountain. It's okay! That's the speed limit. Hell, anything about 50 would be appreciated right now. The semis are passing us.)
Two of the three "hey there little lady" guys came over as soon as I got out.
"Did it reset?"
"It did not. How long will it take to reset it?"
"Probably about 10 minutes."
Nearly 20 minutes later, and after observing the service guy reading the manual to my car, the gauge was reset. The manual was crammed back into my glove box, but without the rest of the car guides. They were tossed on the front seat.
I understand not always knowing how to do everything on every single type of car. In fact, the first time I took my Hybrid Escape in to Mike for an oil change, the tech didn't reset the gauge. I went in and they worked it out, probably in a way very similar to how things happened today, only less obviously. The thing is, Mike and Carlos' place is a tire place. And the new owners had a tire place before. If people know tires and the associated stuff, they should know about tire pressure gauges, too, right? Right. It's not like my car is the newest thing on the road. So no, I didn't get the alignment done.
If anyone's got a referral for a reasonably knowledgeable mechanic, holla!
***That story about my not-so-fond memories will have to wait. Tom got home from softball with a lovely black eye and cuts in the shape of ball stitching.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Pardon Me While I Squirm
I figure if you follow my blog and you were dying to know how things went today, you have probably guessed from my previous post that everything turned out just fine. You have guessed correctly, Grasshoppah!
So let's get into how it went, shall we?
What's the first thing every woman dreads about getting an ultrasound? Waiting with a full bladder, right? No fricken kidding!
The appointment was at 11:00. Tom and I arrived with my very full bladder at 10:30, spent 15 minutes finding parking spots and one another and thenwaddled headed in. I hadn't been told a number of ounces to drink, just "a lot all morning" but I figured it was good to stop at, oh... 42. Almost a Super Big Gulp, as Tom pointed out.
Not surprisingly after seeing the parking lot, the place was packed. I asked the receptionist if I had to have a full bladder for the test. She said I could go ahead and use the facilities because they had water available
Blessed relief.
As soon as I came out, I began refilling. I had my own water (I'm a water snob... I know... I suck), but this time stopped after 36 ounces and hoped it was enough. It's not like I'd peed 42 ounces, right?
NINETY minutes later, it was finally our turn... to meet with the genetic counselor. I truly wanted to hear what she had to say, especially with my history, but I interrupted her at least once with, "Pardon me while I squirm."
Fortunately for me, I'd had genetic testing done after all the miscarriages before Corey, and I was okay. And with the last pregnancy being chemical, Doc concluded that my risks were not greater than 2% of having a genetic abnormality. Yay! Even better, instead of sending us out to wait in the lobby until a tech was available, she found a room for me right away.
The ultrasound tech was about seven months pregnant, herself. She felt my pain. When I laid back, it looked like I was maybe two months farther along... and it hurt. She said that laying back should make it a little better, but as soon as she saw it wasn't, she stopped everything, wiped off my belly and told me to go empty my bladder.
"I'm a woman, too, and I just can't push on you in this state." As if she'd read my mind... or heard me telling Tom, "And she's going to push on my belly. I'm going to die!"
The term "... like a racehorse" would be very appropriate here.
The ultrasound went very quickly and very well. Immediately I saw the heart beating. There was a very beautiful little baby face with a tiny little nose. We saw his/her hand going up to the mouth. Maybe this baby has already mastered thumbsucking. Mad got the hang of thumb chewing around three months old, if I recall correctly. Corey never cared one way or the other.
The important part is that I have screened negative for Down Syndrome and Trisomy 18. I'll have more blood work in a few weeks to further rule those out, along with some other big nasties.
We got pictures, but they weren't nearly as good as the images on the screen. Plus, Tom has them and I'll probably never see 'em again (he'll probably put them in the second drawer of the filing cabinet), otherwise I'd put one here for ya.
I go back at the end of March for the ultrasound (you know... the one where Tom has to keep his end of the bargain and we all find out if we're having a boy or a girl) and again two weeks later for an echocardiogram of the baby's heart. Apparently these are all standard practice here in California. So much has changed in the very few years since Mad was en utero. With her, I ended up doing exactly the same stuff as I did with Corey, which was the AFP test to screen for Down Syndrome. No other genetic testing at all. I mean, I could have done the amnio with Mad, but I never would, and nothing else was offered. I kind of like these chances to see the baby. And now that, yet again, my fears have proved unfounded, I'm going to just deep breathe my way through the next six and a half months.
So let's get into how it went, shall we?
What's the first thing every woman dreads about getting an ultrasound? Waiting with a full bladder, right? No fricken kidding!
The appointment was at 11:00. Tom and I arrived with my very full bladder at 10:30, spent 15 minutes finding parking spots and one another and then
Not surprisingly after seeing the parking lot, the place was packed. I asked the receptionist if I had to have a full bladder for the test. She said I could go ahead and use the facilities because they had water available
Blessed relief.
As soon as I came out, I began refilling. I had my own water (I'm a water snob... I know... I suck), but this time stopped after 36 ounces and hoped it was enough. It's not like I'd peed 42 ounces, right?
NINETY minutes later, it was finally our turn... to meet with the genetic counselor. I truly wanted to hear what she had to say, especially with my history, but I interrupted her at least once with, "Pardon me while I squirm."
Fortunately for me, I'd had genetic testing done after all the miscarriages before Corey, and I was okay. And with the last pregnancy being chemical, Doc concluded that my risks were not greater than 2% of having a genetic abnormality. Yay! Even better, instead of sending us out to wait in the lobby until a tech was available, she found a room for me right away.
The ultrasound tech was about seven months pregnant, herself. She felt my pain. When I laid back, it looked like I was maybe two months farther along... and it hurt. She said that laying back should make it a little better, but as soon as she saw it wasn't, she stopped everything, wiped off my belly and told me to go empty my bladder.
"I'm a woman, too, and I just can't push on you in this state." As if she'd read my mind... or heard me telling Tom, "And she's going to push on my belly. I'm going to die!"
The term "... like a racehorse" would be very appropriate here.
The ultrasound went very quickly and very well. Immediately I saw the heart beating. There was a very beautiful little baby face with a tiny little nose. We saw his/her hand going up to the mouth. Maybe this baby has already mastered thumbsucking. Mad got the hang of thumb chewing around three months old, if I recall correctly. Corey never cared one way or the other.
The important part is that I have screened negative for Down Syndrome and Trisomy 18. I'll have more blood work in a few weeks to further rule those out, along with some other big nasties.
We got pictures, but they weren't nearly as good as the images on the screen. Plus, Tom has them and I'll probably never see 'em again (he'll probably put them in the second drawer of the filing cabinet), otherwise I'd put one here for ya.
I go back at the end of March for the ultrasound (you know... the one where Tom has to keep his end of the bargain and we all find out if we're having a boy or a girl) and again two weeks later for an echocardiogram of the baby's heart. Apparently these are all standard practice here in California. So much has changed in the very few years since Mad was en utero. With her, I ended up doing exactly the same stuff as I did with Corey, which was the AFP test to screen for Down Syndrome. No other genetic testing at all. I mean, I could have done the amnio with Mad, but I never would, and nothing else was offered. I kind of like these chances to see the baby. And now that, yet again, my fears have proved unfounded, I'm going to just deep breathe my way through the next six and a half months.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Craptacular Days for Everybody!
It seems there's a theme running among a few of my favorite blogs, Anti-Supermom and The Rambler (and no ladies, you are not listed in order of preference... I love you equally). Normally I try to avoid jumping on bandwagons, but the stories brought to mind one of my own. It's from June 2008, when Mad was a wee babe of not quite three months. The original title was BGS and the Craptacular Day.
I mention this because BGS has been Nancy's nickname for Mad since she was en utero. It stands for Baby Girl Sweener (our combined last names); she always knew I was going to have a daughter. This is relevant because you may hear me mention BBS periodically until we find out at the end of next month whether we need to come up with a new nickname or not. And I'll work on telling you how everything went today regarding BBS once I get this posted.
Madelyn and I got going early today... well, actually, I got up and going early today. I managed to have a shower while both of my children (I'm still not quite used to that, lol) slept. I looked outside and felt the window (my usual way of figuring out the weather... it's at least as good as any weatherman's report) before dressing Mad. I was pretty excited to put her into my favorite bloomers outfit because today we were going visiting with Nancy at some of our classes.
As the three of us walked out the door (Corey was loading La Mad for me), we realized it was misting... not the best day for the bloomers outfit, so I ran back in and grabbed not one, but two! footie sleeper outfits. I tossed them in the car and figured I'd change her at my first stop, which was the newborn center.
Just as we pulled in I got the text from Nance saying that she was heading down to get the van, which was my cue to work my way over to one of our employers.
I went to pull Madelyn out of the car and realized that the diaper bag wasn't there... we'd gone for an extended walk yesterday evening (complete with a stop at the polling place for Madelyn's first "I voted" sticker) and we brought the bag along just in case. I forgot about the sleepers and just ran on in so I could get Mad weighed. Then we dash back home, where I grabbed the diaper bag and a few other things I'd forgotten, and off we went to meet Nance at the employer's.
When we got there, I backed my vehicle up to the dock so that a bunch of gifts for the students could be loaded up. Loading had occasionally taken a bit of time to handle previously, so I took that opportunity to nurse Madelyn and change her diaper and clothes. No problem, but there was more stuff for the kids than my car would hold, so Nance had to cram the van (very skillfully, I might add) up next to my car on the dock. Her vehicle was loaded pretty quickly, too, and FedEx had just arrived, so we had to scoot off the dock.
I loaded Mad into her seat and we headed over to Casa Sanchez. She nursed virtually the entire time we were there, and mostly slept when she wasn't eating. At one point the owner came over and said to Madelyn, "I'm the one who fed your mommy when she was pregnant," but Mad was screaming by then so it we hightailed it.
We stopped at one school and saw some of my favorite people (kids and adults), went to another employer's and then to another school. While we were at the second school it was time to nurse again, so I spent the whole time there bundled up in the car with Madelyn. Kids and teachers came and went and I really didn't get to say much more than hi to them.
Madelyn was in serious eating mode, so I said goodbye to Nance and watched her drive away. Mad finished on one side and I decided to check to see if she needed another diaper change.
I put her on the back seat... I probably should have done it in the cargo area, but that seemed more exposed than I wanted her to be... and I wasn't even sure that she needed a change, so I hadn't put a pad down, just the blanket that I'd used while she was nursing. I used that second footie sleeper to prop her up from where the seat is angled and to cushion her against the seatbelts.
Did she need a change? OMG, yes!!!
Tom and I have talked about diapers in the past few weeks as being "the messiest" or "the biggest" or "the one that took the most wipes." This was the diaper to beat all other diapers. Possibly even adult diapers.
A little baby poo primer for ya... breast milk diapers look like seedy mustard. Madelyn looked like someone had taken a large bottle of mustard and dumped it in her diaper. That thing was full to the edges... in the front, sides and the back!
A little Madelyn primer for ya... Madelyn doesn't like anything cold or wet, and the combination of cold and wet will drive her over the edge.
So I opened the old diaper and began the massive cleanup. But it was cold and windy, which was making Madelyn very unhappy, and it was also making the poo stick to her body like glue... and not just on the private parts that she's used to getting cleaned up, but even up to her abdomen! I was taking a sort of "top down" approach, so I started on her belly first (good to keep the hands from getting into anything nasty). While I did that, she screamed bloody murder and flailed her legs. After a few minutes and several wipes and I'm still not sure that I've gotten her stomach clean, I realized that Madelyn's feet are in the dirty diaper, which she has kicked open. And there's poo on her clothes.
I worked frantically to get her done. My back was aching from being bent over like that (ugh! I'm old!) and I was talking to her, trying to soothe her and get it done as quickly and as best I could. What happened next?
She peed, of course.
No pad, remember? So I grabbed another blanket and stuck it under everything to hopefully absorb as much as possible before it ruined my still new car interior.
The upside? Pee acts as a poo-glue remover and I was able to finish up fairly quickly and get my poor baby girl into a clean diaper and some dry clothes... but not that other sleeper, because it also helped catch pee.
After I got everything into bags, I took her back to the front seat of the car and we snuggled and then finished nursing. After that, life was good and she fell asleep pretty quickly. I could have done the same.
I mention this because BGS has been Nancy's nickname for Mad since she was en utero. It stands for Baby Girl Sweener (our combined last names); she always knew I was going to have a daughter. This is relevant because you may hear me mention BBS periodically until we find out at the end of next month whether we need to come up with a new nickname or not. And I'll work on telling you how everything went today regarding BBS once I get this posted.
Madelyn and I got going early today... well, actually, I got up and going early today. I managed to have a shower while both of my children (I'm still not quite used to that, lol) slept. I looked outside and felt the window (my usual way of figuring out the weather... it's at least as good as any weatherman's report) before dressing Mad. I was pretty excited to put her into my favorite bloomers outfit because today we were going visiting with Nancy at some of our classes.
As the three of us walked out the door (Corey was loading La Mad for me), we realized it was misting... not the best day for the bloomers outfit, so I ran back in and grabbed not one, but two! footie sleeper outfits. I tossed them in the car and figured I'd change her at my first stop, which was the newborn center.
Just as we pulled in I got the text from Nance saying that she was heading down to get the van, which was my cue to work my way over to one of our employers.
I went to pull Madelyn out of the car and realized that the diaper bag wasn't there... we'd gone for an extended walk yesterday evening (complete with a stop at the polling place for Madelyn's first "I voted" sticker) and we brought the bag along just in case. I forgot about the sleepers and just ran on in so I could get Mad weighed. Then we dash back home, where I grabbed the diaper bag and a few other things I'd forgotten, and off we went to meet Nance at the employer's.
When we got there, I backed my vehicle up to the dock so that a bunch of gifts for the students could be loaded up. Loading had occasionally taken a bit of time to handle previously, so I took that opportunity to nurse Madelyn and change her diaper and clothes. No problem, but there was more stuff for the kids than my car would hold, so Nance had to cram the van (very skillfully, I might add) up next to my car on the dock. Her vehicle was loaded pretty quickly, too, and FedEx had just arrived, so we had to scoot off the dock.
I loaded Mad into her seat and we headed over to Casa Sanchez. She nursed virtually the entire time we were there, and mostly slept when she wasn't eating. At one point the owner came over and said to Madelyn, "I'm the one who fed your mommy when she was pregnant," but Mad was screaming by then so it we hightailed it.
We stopped at one school and saw some of my favorite people (kids and adults), went to another employer's and then to another school. While we were at the second school it was time to nurse again, so I spent the whole time there bundled up in the car with Madelyn. Kids and teachers came and went and I really didn't get to say much more than hi to them.
Madelyn was in serious eating mode, so I said goodbye to Nance and watched her drive away. Mad finished on one side and I decided to check to see if she needed another diaper change.
I put her on the back seat... I probably should have done it in the cargo area, but that seemed more exposed than I wanted her to be... and I wasn't even sure that she needed a change, so I hadn't put a pad down, just the blanket that I'd used while she was nursing. I used that second footie sleeper to prop her up from where the seat is angled and to cushion her against the seatbelts.
Did she need a change? OMG, yes!!!
Tom and I have talked about diapers in the past few weeks as being "the messiest" or "the biggest" or "the one that took the most wipes." This was the diaper to beat all other diapers. Possibly even adult diapers.
A little baby poo primer for ya... breast milk diapers look like seedy mustard. Madelyn looked like someone had taken a large bottle of mustard and dumped it in her diaper. That thing was full to the edges... in the front, sides and the back!
A little Madelyn primer for ya... Madelyn doesn't like anything cold or wet, and the combination of cold and wet will drive her over the edge.
So I opened the old diaper and began the massive cleanup. But it was cold and windy, which was making Madelyn very unhappy, and it was also making the poo stick to her body like glue... and not just on the private parts that she's used to getting cleaned up, but even up to her abdomen! I was taking a sort of "top down" approach, so I started on her belly first (good to keep the hands from getting into anything nasty). While I did that, she screamed bloody murder and flailed her legs. After a few minutes and several wipes and I'm still not sure that I've gotten her stomach clean, I realized that Madelyn's feet are in the dirty diaper, which she has kicked open. And there's poo on her clothes.
I worked frantically to get her done. My back was aching from being bent over like that (ugh! I'm old!) and I was talking to her, trying to soothe her and get it done as quickly and as best I could. What happened next?
She peed, of course.
No pad, remember? So I grabbed another blanket and stuck it under everything to hopefully absorb as much as possible before it ruined my still new car interior.
The upside? Pee acts as a poo-glue remover and I was able to finish up fairly quickly and get my poor baby girl into a clean diaper and some dry clothes... but not that other sleeper, because it also helped catch pee.
After I got everything into bags, I took her back to the front seat of the car and we snuggled and then finished nursing. After that, life was good and she fell asleep pretty quickly. I could have done the same.
Monday, February 01, 2010
Tentatively Sighing With Something Like Relief
The other day I wrote out a lengthy and dramatic post about what we've been going through with Corey. I decided not to publicize it. It's the truly hard stuff of life (not the decision, the drama that caused the post) and I just wasn't sure where it was going. With Corey, I never really am. But there is part of it all that I wanted to share.
Turns out Corey and Lisa were going through some seriously rough times. They did not make it through. Last night her aunt called to tell me that Lisa wants to break up.
Dude.
As things were devolving, I became increasingly worried for Corey. It's his first love and his first heartbreak. We had conversations about how he is bigger than the relationship and more than just "Corey and Lisa." He seemed to understand and even felt like things should be over because of the way she'd been treating him... he just wasn't ready quite yet.
When I got off the phone with the aunt last night, I laid it on the line for him as gently as I could.
Internally, I was rather seething for him. I mean, seriously. Have your aunt call and talk to your boyfriend's mom?! And some of the stuff the aunt said for Lisa were fricking ridiculous.
Honestly, I always assumed when Corey had his first breakup, I'd be the stern, "Well next time you ought to try being more this and less that" sort of responder (I hesitate to call it comfort). The nature of my son's personality and behavior frequently leads to those kinds of conversations. Instead, I find myself being the mother bear who wants to verbally bash the stupid little girl who hurt my boy. I won't (or not any more than the little I've done here), but it's nice to know I can make the switch when the circumstances call for it
I was especially dreading how today would go for him. Turns out Corey handled everything as well as I could have hoped. Lisa asked if they could "be friends until she's ready." He didn't really give her his answer, but told me that it's a no. She didn't treat him like a boyfriend (insert air quotes), so he figures she won't treat him like a friend either.
This afternoon we went to the bookstore and exchanged the book he'd gotten for her birthday for a CD/DVD for himself. Apparently it's pretty funny. I keep hearing him laugh.
Turns out Corey and Lisa were going through some seriously rough times. They did not make it through. Last night her aunt called to tell me that Lisa wants to break up.
Dude.
As things were devolving, I became increasingly worried for Corey. It's his first love and his first heartbreak. We had conversations about how he is bigger than the relationship and more than just "Corey and Lisa." He seemed to understand and even felt like things should be over because of the way she'd been treating him... he just wasn't ready quite yet.
When I got off the phone with the aunt last night, I laid it on the line for him as gently as I could.
Internally, I was rather seething for him. I mean, seriously. Have your aunt call and talk to your boyfriend's mom?! And some of the stuff the aunt said for Lisa were fricking ridiculous.
Honestly, I always assumed when Corey had his first breakup, I'd be the stern, "Well next time you ought to try being more this and less that" sort of responder (I hesitate to call it comfort). The nature of my son's personality and behavior frequently leads to those kinds of conversations. Instead, I find myself being the mother bear who wants to verbally bash the stupid little girl who hurt my boy. I won't (or not any more than the little I've done here), but it's nice to know I can make the switch when the circumstances call for it
I was especially dreading how today would go for him. Turns out Corey handled everything as well as I could have hoped. Lisa asked if they could "be friends until she's ready." He didn't really give her his answer, but told me that it's a no. She didn't treat him like a boyfriend (insert air quotes), so he figures she won't treat him like a friend either.
This afternoon we went to the bookstore and exchanged the book he'd gotten for her birthday for a CD/DVD for himself. Apparently it's pretty funny. I keep hearing him laugh.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Git Yo Socks Up Off Da Floo!
I know the video quality sucks, but this is one of my friends and I had to share (I'm sure she'll love that, haha... ahem).
Know What's So Great About Frizzy Hair?
Yeah, me neither.
Anyway, here's another mixed bag of my thoughts. Fair warning, I'm a bit whiny tonight.
My dad and Margaret's neighbor may have to sell their home because the husband's been laid off and the wife doesn't work (and no, she's not a stay at home mom... I said she doesn't work). The house is not fabulous, but it's in a decent neighborhood. They're selling it for about $20 grand more than we paid for this place. It would have been within our budget. Margaret said, "But it's small. It's the smallest one they made."
Yeah, but compared to this place, everything is small. And I would have been all for a smaller house with a small commute. And while there are innumberable downsides to living next door to my dad, can you imagine days like today? I stayed home because Tom spread his yucky germs. So he had to drop Madelyn off on his way to work... at 5:20 this morning... after a nearly hour-long drive. She and I could have slept in and then I could have just called Margaret and met her on the other side of the lawn. *sigh*
And let's just talk about baby logistics for a second. My plan is to give birth this time at the same place where I had Madelyn. That's about 50 miles from here. It's worth the hassle we may end up having because of the house we ended up choosing (which I do like most of the time), but Margaret's already making plans for me to stay with them as it gets closer for the baby to come. In seven months.
We will have a back up plan*, but the best hospital up here won't do a tubal ligation right after birth. I'd like to combine the pain and discomfort at once, if you don't mind. Plus, the other hospital is phenomenal. Madelyn spent four days in the NICU there** and we really trust them.
On the topic of being sick, I am. I have the coughing-est, no-face-covering-est husband in the west. I swear!
Dude, just because you closed your mouth hole doesn't mean things can't come out the nose holes. You're still breathing, right? Argh!
*Tomorrow night Corey has a banquet for band. We had to provide early childhood photos. Photos, especially those in albums, will be one of the last things unpacked around here. I see it happening in a year or two when we finally get to installing a built-in bookshelf/cabinet combo downstairs and a bookshelf/window seat upstairs. To minimize lifting any of the 15 heavy boxes of albums (thank you Grandma and Grandpa!), I opted for looking through Corey's box. It has all of the school assignments and art projects that A) show his personality and B) lasted long enough for me to remember to put them in the box. It also holds some of his treasures. As I was sifting through I came across a giant Mother's Day card that listed about seven things that made me a great mom. The first one? "She always has a Plan B." Mm-hmm. I believe he was four or five when that lesson was clearly instilled.
***On a side-side note, I like this card better than the one where he said "My mommy's the greatest because she takes me to my best store, Target. She loves the Red Hot Chili Peppers."
**Speaking of Mad and her story, I'm not even sure where I left off. I'll have to wrap that up before too much longer.
Back on the topic of being pregnant, my willingness to be diligent about my diet just isn't the same this time as it was with Madelyn. Oddly, and I may have mentioned this before, I associate this with the surprise nature of my pregnancy with Madelyn. We had agreed not to have any kids together and then I was pregnant. And we were both so freaking excited that I didn't want anything bad to happen more than the usual bit of concern and worrying. So it was extremely easy for me (about 90% of the time) to give up coffee and chocolate and iced tea and whatever else I shouldn't have been having.
Obviously I don't want anything bad to happen this time either, but I guess there's something this time that reminds me of being pregnant with Corey. After several miscarriages, I just came to a point where I knew he was going to be okay. I'm not exactly at that point with this one, but I'm a lot closer to relaxed than I am to constantly fretting. So the call of coffee and brie and turkey sandwiches is greater this time than it was before. I have to remind myself that I have decrepit eggs and that we are very lucky to be having a baby at all, and that I shouldn't be adding to the risk factors.
And following that stream of my (barely) consciousness*, I have the next part of the genetic risks testing next week. It's the nuchal scan, where they measure the thickness of the neck. I am a wee bit concerned that karma is gonna come after me. Why? One of the mommies in my group with Madelyn told me that she'd been pregnant once before with a son, but when they had the ultrasound he was deceased. I'm not sure why I prodded her to tell the story. It made us both uncomfortable and I don't think it helped her at all. So, you see... not quite so relaxed just yet. After Tuesday I will know more.
I can see I've spilled way more than intended here, but that's how it goes tonight.
Anyway, here's another mixed bag of my thoughts. Fair warning, I'm a bit whiny tonight.
My dad and Margaret's neighbor may have to sell their home because the husband's been laid off and the wife doesn't work (and no, she's not a stay at home mom... I said she doesn't work). The house is not fabulous, but it's in a decent neighborhood. They're selling it for about $20 grand more than we paid for this place. It would have been within our budget. Margaret said, "But it's small. It's the smallest one they made."
Yeah, but compared to this place, everything is small. And I would have been all for a smaller house with a small commute. And while there are innumberable downsides to living next door to my dad, can you imagine days like today? I stayed home because Tom spread his yucky germs. So he had to drop Madelyn off on his way to work... at 5:20 this morning... after a nearly hour-long drive. She and I could have slept in and then I could have just called Margaret and met her on the other side of the lawn. *sigh*
And let's just talk about baby logistics for a second. My plan is to give birth this time at the same place where I had Madelyn. That's about 50 miles from here. It's worth the hassle we may end up having because of the house we ended up choosing (which I do like most of the time), but Margaret's already making plans for me to stay with them as it gets closer for the baby to come. In seven months.
We will have a back up plan*, but the best hospital up here won't do a tubal ligation right after birth. I'd like to combine the pain and discomfort at once, if you don't mind. Plus, the other hospital is phenomenal. Madelyn spent four days in the NICU there** and we really trust them.
On the topic of being sick, I am. I have the coughing-est, no-face-covering-est husband in the west. I swear!
Dude, just because you closed your mouth hole doesn't mean things can't come out the nose holes. You're still breathing, right? Argh!
*Tomorrow night Corey has a banquet for band. We had to provide early childhood photos. Photos, especially those in albums, will be one of the last things unpacked around here. I see it happening in a year or two when we finally get to installing a built-in bookshelf/cabinet combo downstairs and a bookshelf/window seat upstairs. To minimize lifting any of the 15 heavy boxes of albums (thank you Grandma and Grandpa!), I opted for looking through Corey's box. It has all of the school assignments and art projects that A) show his personality and B) lasted long enough for me to remember to put them in the box. It also holds some of his treasures. As I was sifting through I came across a giant Mother's Day card that listed about seven things that made me a great mom. The first one? "She always has a Plan B." Mm-hmm. I believe he was four or five when that lesson was clearly instilled.
***On a side-side note, I like this card better than the one where he said "My mommy's the greatest because she takes me to my best store, Target. She loves the Red Hot Chili Peppers."
**Speaking of Mad and her story, I'm not even sure where I left off. I'll have to wrap that up before too much longer.
Back on the topic of being pregnant, my willingness to be diligent about my diet just isn't the same this time as it was with Madelyn. Oddly, and I may have mentioned this before, I associate this with the surprise nature of my pregnancy with Madelyn. We had agreed not to have any kids together and then I was pregnant. And we were both so freaking excited that I didn't want anything bad to happen more than the usual bit of concern and worrying. So it was extremely easy for me (about 90% of the time) to give up coffee and chocolate and iced tea and whatever else I shouldn't have been having.
Obviously I don't want anything bad to happen this time either, but I guess there's something this time that reminds me of being pregnant with Corey. After several miscarriages, I just came to a point where I knew he was going to be okay. I'm not exactly at that point with this one, but I'm a lot closer to relaxed than I am to constantly fretting. So the call of coffee and brie and turkey sandwiches is greater this time than it was before. I have to remind myself that I have decrepit eggs and that we are very lucky to be having a baby at all, and that I shouldn't be adding to the risk factors.
And following that stream of my (barely) consciousness*, I have the next part of the genetic risks testing next week. It's the nuchal scan, where they measure the thickness of the neck. I am a wee bit concerned that karma is gonna come after me. Why? One of the mommies in my group with Madelyn told me that she'd been pregnant once before with a son, but when they had the ultrasound he was deceased. I'm not sure why I prodded her to tell the story. It made us both uncomfortable and I don't think it helped her at all. So, you see... not quite so relaxed just yet. After Tuesday I will know more.
I can see I've spilled way more than intended here, but that's how it goes tonight.
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Shape of Love (and other things)
I'm operating with about half of my usual pea-sized brain lately, so I haven't had any one thing happen worth posting that I can remember by the time I'm in front of the computer. Here's a snippet of my life lately:
This morning I was too slow getting moving and Mad was too quick. Thus I showered with her roaming my bedroom (instead of still snoozing in her own room). When I bent over to put on my panties, she reached up and grabbed each of my nipples and asked, "What that?"
"Mama's breasts."
"Ohh, bwets."
Then, wearing only said panties (sadly, this is not a fantasy scene, folks), I went into the bedroom. Madelyn came running up behind me calling out, "Heawt" (heart). I asked where and she poked me in the rear. Twice. That is very likely the first time I've appreciated anything about my own ass in maybe four years.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The other night Tom apparently tried to get my attention for storytime. I didn't hear him and didn't realize that I was missing out until I heard her music start, which signaled that she was ready for some brief rocking and a quick toss in the crib.
Last night he called down, "Hey Shan, it's storytime. And can you bring up the lotion?" Mad was standing at the top of the stairs, so when I came around she said, "Hey Shayma." This is now how she makes personal requests for anything she forgot to bring up.
Last night it was, "Hey Shayma... geh peema?" (get penguin?) and tonight it was, "Hey Shayma. Hey Shayma? Buberry?" (can I talk you into bringing me some blueberries? I just remembered we have them and I didn't get any today).
Madelyn must have thought she hit the jackpot when I brought not one, but four big fat blueberries up while she was taking a bath.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Friday night was the culmination of the efforts my pal Lisa and I made gathering historical facts on the city of Ontario. The Chamber of Commerce had their centennial gala. I had borrowed a silver sweater set from a coworker. When I tried it on at work, it was lovely. Since I have a not so small tattoo on my chest, I was glad that it was nearly covered without being prudish.
I put it on Friday evening at my dad's house. Over the course of the next 10-15 minutes, it proceeded to travel lower and lower in front. Essentially I went from cocktail to hoochie without leaving the bathroom. Having no other free alternative, I ran to a couple of stores that I thought could help. One has gone strictly casual. The other had all sorts of bright spring colors that wouldn't look good on my on my best day. But in the clearance rack I found a button-up, tuxedo-looking shirt in a black and white print. I wore it out of the dressing room. The clerk cut the tag off, rang me up and I was out the door in a flash. I didn't even wait for the receipt.
It was the next size up, but will work as my belly expands, too. Or it will once I go back and have the security tag removed.
This morning I was too slow getting moving and Mad was too quick. Thus I showered with her roaming my bedroom (instead of still snoozing in her own room). When I bent over to put on my panties, she reached up and grabbed each of my nipples and asked, "What that?"
"Mama's breasts."
"Ohh, bwets."
Then, wearing only said panties (sadly, this is not a fantasy scene, folks), I went into the bedroom. Madelyn came running up behind me calling out, "Heawt" (heart). I asked where and she poked me in the rear. Twice. That is very likely the first time I've appreciated anything about my own ass in maybe four years.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The other night Tom apparently tried to get my attention for storytime. I didn't hear him and didn't realize that I was missing out until I heard her music start, which signaled that she was ready for some brief rocking and a quick toss in the crib.
Last night he called down, "Hey Shan, it's storytime. And can you bring up the lotion?" Mad was standing at the top of the stairs, so when I came around she said, "Hey Shayma." This is now how she makes personal requests for anything she forgot to bring up.
Last night it was, "Hey Shayma... geh peema?" (get penguin?) and tonight it was, "Hey Shayma. Hey Shayma? Buberry?" (can I talk you into bringing me some blueberries? I just remembered we have them and I didn't get any today).
Madelyn must have thought she hit the jackpot when I brought not one, but four big fat blueberries up while she was taking a bath.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Friday night was the culmination of the efforts my pal Lisa and I made gathering historical facts on the city of Ontario. The Chamber of Commerce had their centennial gala. I had borrowed a silver sweater set from a coworker. When I tried it on at work, it was lovely. Since I have a not so small tattoo on my chest, I was glad that it was nearly covered without being prudish.
I put it on Friday evening at my dad's house. Over the course of the next 10-15 minutes, it proceeded to travel lower and lower in front. Essentially I went from cocktail to hoochie without leaving the bathroom. Having no other free alternative, I ran to a couple of stores that I thought could help. One has gone strictly casual. The other had all sorts of bright spring colors that wouldn't look good on my on my best day. But in the clearance rack I found a button-up, tuxedo-looking shirt in a black and white print. I wore it out of the dressing room. The clerk cut the tag off, rang me up and I was out the door in a flash. I didn't even wait for the receipt.
It was the next size up, but will work as my belly expands, too. Or it will once I go back and have the security tag removed.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Pray for Rain
Update: Tom and Mad did indeed return home safely last night. Their usual hour-long drive was just over three times its normal duration, but neither was the worse for wear (especially once they ate, got changed and ran around).
Or something! Tom is currently stuck on I-15, not moving.
With Madelyn.
In the pass.
In a snowstorm.
With no snacks or water.
Up until about an hour ago they were moving extremely slowly with CHP escorts, but now, nothing.
He is about 2 miles from a gas station (for snacks, not gas) and 30 miles from home.
Oh, and when he asked if Mad wanted to talk with Mama, she burst into tears.
Argh!
Or something! Tom is currently stuck on I-15, not moving.
With Madelyn.
In the pass.
In a snowstorm.
With no snacks or water.
Up until about an hour ago they were moving extremely slowly with CHP escorts, but now, nothing.
He is about 2 miles from a gas station (for snacks, not gas) and 30 miles from home.
Oh, and when he asked if Mad wanted to talk with Mama, she burst into tears.
Argh!
Monday, January 18, 2010
A Tribute
To Pat, Nancy's mother. Thank you for creating this amazing human being. My best friend. Best friend to many. Nancy had told me about some of the characteristics she got from her long-departed dad. I think she may have alluded to her independence and strength coming from him. That may be so, but she also got it from you, didn't she?
She has commented in years past about how you always call to make sure someone got home okay, "She's a worrier." Yet she always wants to know when I arrive after a particularly long or weather-filled drive, doesn't she?
The way she orders a glass of ice water with extra ice? Could that have been learned from her mom who liked everything cold?
There has been a lot for me to learn since meeting Nance. She hastried to share her taught me grace, patience and wisdom. I have learned a lot more in the past two years as she helped her husband with terminal leukemia.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone will ever know all of me. I suppose not. The woman I feel I know so well keeps revealing herself as we go through our lives together.
Just the other day I learned more about her by sitting with you as you were drowsing under the effects of morphine. I learned of similarities and differences that I hadn't even considered before.
The love does not surprise me. I thank you for teaching her to love the way you have.
And I thank you for the small mercy of passing away while Nancy was not there. Considerate to the end, you must have known she didn't feel strong enough.
Thank you for my best friend.
She has commented in years past about how you always call to make sure someone got home okay, "She's a worrier." Yet she always wants to know when I arrive after a particularly long or weather-filled drive, doesn't she?
The way she orders a glass of ice water with extra ice? Could that have been learned from her mom who liked everything cold?
There has been a lot for me to learn since meeting Nance. She has
Sometimes I wonder if anyone will ever know all of me. I suppose not. The woman I feel I know so well keeps revealing herself as we go through our lives together.
Just the other day I learned more about her by sitting with you as you were drowsing under the effects of morphine. I learned of similarities and differences that I hadn't even considered before.
The love does not surprise me. I thank you for teaching her to love the way you have.
And I thank you for the small mercy of passing away while Nancy was not there. Considerate to the end, you must have known she didn't feel strong enough.
Thank you for my best friend.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Infanticipation
That's what we have, folks. That's right... WE DID IT!!!
I mean... er... eh... well, we wanted to make a baby and SUCCESS!
We sent out an email one by one to each of the grandparents today. As it was sending, we phoned them up and waited while they opened the attachment and read it.
Here's what they saw:
I mean... er... eh... well, we wanted to make a baby and SUCCESS!
We sent out an email one by one to each of the grandparents today. As it was sending, we phoned them up and waited while they opened the attachment and read it.
Here's what they saw:
Corey & Madelyn learned something new
And now so did you!
Expect the big arrival around August 18, 2010.
Know what this means? I'm going to have kids in three different decades. Next time you're feeling old, contemplate that.
Yes, all of the grandparents are excited. I know... shocking. Corey is excited. Madelyn keeps saying "big sistuh," which we think means she's happy, too. We'll see in seven months, won't we.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
This May Not Be Funny to You
Let me just start off by stating a couple of facts:
Oh yeah, and it was being held 12 minutes from my home.
Oh OH yeah, and because we are enslaved by an idiotic union, employees from other areas could not possibly be made to "start work" (i.e., get on a bus at their job sites) before 7:30. So registration didn't even begin until 8:30. I slept until 7:00.
I got there early to procure seats for my peeps. Due to some personal needs of certain members, I selected the last row on the center aisle. It was perfect. Close to the restrooms. Close enough to read what's on the 20' x 25' screen up front. Far enough to check my email and send texts "as necessary."
In true I'm-surrounded-by-office-types fashion, someone got a little pissy because I saved three other seats on the back row. Bite me lady, there are five other back rows. That's right, we work in education, but nobody still wants to sit up front.
My peeps arrive and we're merrily chatting about who knows what when the we are called to attention. I turn to face the front only to find that it has disappeared. Completely.
That 20 x 25 screen? Occasionally I could make out our logo on the top left corner. Once or twice I saw a letter or two on the bottom right.
Why? Because a ginormous woman, who must have been a professional swimmer... or a linebacker... before she grew her third ass... was sitting in front of me.
I took a picture and sent it to Nance. Her response made me laugh out loud:
"What - no hat?!"
I'm not including that picture here, because it seems to cross a line even more than my telling the story here.
- I am no lovely petite violet (Judy Juudy!). I'm 5'7" and lately I've grown a third butt... now I'm like that old Baptist hymn, "Deep and Wide." I've posted a few rare photos of myself on here, so you can verify that yourself.
- I hate meetings. Go ahead and vote for me to be the person who will find anything else I can to occupy my inner workings while people drone on and on about stuff that is only relevant to them personally and/or needs to be worked out in therapy rather than on my time. I try to cover myself by paying attention to the best of my limited ability and throwing out some quasi-useful comment or argument when possible. Last staff meeting I attended resulted in my being "Shannoned" (as in, "*Gasp!* Shannon!! We can hear you! *nervous laughter*")
- My sense of humor isn't always what you might call... um... funny. Today Nancy and I had a conversation about her dying mother that would not have gone over well if anybody else were around.
Oh yeah, and it was being held 12 minutes from my home.
Oh OH yeah, and because we are enslaved by an idiotic union, employees from other areas could not possibly be made to "start work" (i.e., get on a bus at their job sites) before 7:30. So registration didn't even begin until 8:30. I slept until 7:00.
I got there early to procure seats for my peeps. Due to some personal needs of certain members, I selected the last row on the center aisle. It was perfect. Close to the restrooms. Close enough to read what's on the 20' x 25' screen up front. Far enough to check my email and send texts "as necessary."
In true I'm-surrounded-by-office-types fashion, someone got a little pissy because I saved three other seats on the back row. Bite me lady, there are five other back rows. That's right, we work in education, but nobody still wants to sit up front.
My peeps arrive and we're merrily chatting about who knows what when the we are called to attention. I turn to face the front only to find that it has disappeared. Completely.
That 20 x 25 screen? Occasionally I could make out our logo on the top left corner. Once or twice I saw a letter or two on the bottom right.
Why? Because a ginormous woman, who must have been a professional swimmer... or a linebacker... before she grew her third ass... was sitting in front of me.
I took a picture and sent it to Nance. Her response made me laugh out loud:
"What - no hat?!"
I'm not including that picture here, because it seems to cross a line even more than my telling the story here.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
If You Knew It Would End This Way...
... would you have stayed home anyway?
Nope. Despite that teary-eyed sad face, it was all worth it. What was worth it, you and your enquiring minds ask? Something heinous at the doctor's office? First visit to the dentist?
Bah!
Just a Saturday morning trip to the park.
After a good night of sleep...
We arrived nonchalantly at the park.
Mad hasn't been there, nor to her beloved 'siiide' since the middle of November. But as soon as we rounded the corner...
... she was off like a rocket.
Straight to the top...
... and down.
The park was crowded. Sometimes she had to wait.
But as long as she could be with her beloved slide, life was grand!
Then mean ol' Mama insisted on going for a walk. A tear-filled loud walk. And not on the grass, because it was recently watered and quite muddy in the "dry" spots. But lo and behold, what did Mad find?
Puddles!
Puddles make you feel like you can fly!
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Resolved
I typically don't make resolutions for New Year. I did two years ago, but it wasn't anything life altering. I play games on Pogo. I'm a member (I know... ooh) and sometimes play for badges. Maybe it's because I was never a Girl Scout. Whatever. In any case, I found myself devoting a couple hours a week to badges for games I don't even like. Resolution? Only play games I like. 'Cuz I like to push myself like that, that's why.
Who knows when the last real resolution came from me. I don't even "resolve not to make any resolutions." Seriously? That's like deciding not to decide. You just did, but with less effect. Doh!
So the fact that I decided upon rising this morning to do some stretches and a few exercises on my bedroom floor had less to do with the date and more to do with the fact that my pajama bottoms are getting snug. Seriously? That's not cool.
My "stretching" consisted of touching my toes, being glad I could still touch my toes and thinking about how I must resemble Winnie-the-Pooh getting ready for his hunny pots.
Then I laid down on one side and did about 20 leg lifts with my right leg.
The next thing I know Corey's at my door asking if I'm ever coming out.
Twenty minutes of mind-dazzling sleep later, I no longer had time to do anything else. I'm gonna have to come up with a new plan tomorrow. (Tom suggests I do the other leg.)
Who knows when the last real resolution came from me. I don't even "resolve not to make any resolutions." Seriously? That's like deciding not to decide. You just did, but with less effect. Doh!
So the fact that I decided upon rising this morning to do some stretches and a few exercises on my bedroom floor had less to do with the date and more to do with the fact that my pajama bottoms are getting snug. Seriously? That's not cool.
My "stretching" consisted of touching my toes, being glad I could still touch my toes and thinking about how I must resemble Winnie-the-Pooh getting ready for his hunny pots.
Then I laid down on one side and did about 20 leg lifts with my right leg.
The next thing I know Corey's at my door asking if I'm ever coming out.
Twenty minutes of mind-dazzling sleep later, I no longer had time to do anything else. I'm gonna have to come up with a new plan tomorrow. (Tom suggests I do the other leg.)
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Kicking Off
I was as excited as I ever am to return to work after a holiday yesterday. Since I do love my job and the people I work with, the tug to stay home with Madelyn and Maisy, and to be there when Corey gets home from school doesn't hurt as much as it might.
Somehow I managed to get up on time, but didn't think to check on Corey until 15 minutes before he had to leave. Not sure how snoozing boy managed to get out the door and catch the bus before it was too late.
Mad and I tried our best to stay on target, too, but the poor kid's finally learned to sleep until almost 8:00, so getting up at 5:45 isn't so much fun.
Some brilliant person scheduled a meeting for first thing yesterday. I was late. Half of us were late. The last line of the minutes said something like, "Once we all pulled our heads out of our a____s, we got a lot accomplished." Couldn't have been stated more clearly.
I have a gala event to go to in a couple weeks. Gala events are not my thing, but this one's sort of a big deal and I've had a lot of fun helping get ready. I am having second thoughts about attending because I do not have anything to wear, and it's not where I want to spend our money these days. So I've asked a couple coworkers if they have anything suitable (i.e., long or pants and able to stretch across my fat ass) that they'd be willing to loan me for the evening.
One of the things I did yesterday was to schedule an appointment with my doctor. I've told Tom I want a new one, but it'll be such a hassle because there are no other good options in our medical group. And anyway, I do like him, I just don't want to argue about tests and vaccinations I wouldn't accept should there be a reason to have them. I arrived only to find that he was out delivering a baby. Stay tuned.
Somehow I managed to get up on time, but didn't think to check on Corey until 15 minutes before he had to leave. Not sure how snoozing boy managed to get out the door and catch the bus before it was too late.
Mad and I tried our best to stay on target, too, but the poor kid's finally learned to sleep until almost 8:00, so getting up at 5:45 isn't so much fun.
Some brilliant person scheduled a meeting for first thing yesterday. I was late. Half of us were late. The last line of the minutes said something like, "Once we all pulled our heads out of our a____s, we got a lot accomplished." Couldn't have been stated more clearly.
I have a gala event to go to in a couple weeks. Gala events are not my thing, but this one's sort of a big deal and I've had a lot of fun helping get ready. I am having second thoughts about attending because I do not have anything to wear, and it's not where I want to spend our money these days. So I've asked a couple coworkers if they have anything suitable (i.e., long or pants and able to stretch across my fat ass) that they'd be willing to loan me for the evening.
One of the things I did yesterday was to schedule an appointment with my doctor. I've told Tom I want a new one, but it'll be such a hassle because there are no other good options in our medical group. And anyway, I do like him, I just don't want to argue about tests and vaccinations I wouldn't accept should there be a reason to have them. I arrived only to find that he was out delivering a baby. Stay tuned.
Friday, January 01, 2010
Putting the Cap Back On... Or, Uh... Recapping
Here was the plan for the big day (yeah, yesterday not tonight... or as we called it when we were kids, this day):
The toilet plungers were for a game that Jo had heard of somewhere. She was wise to have us split by gender, especially since you just know Corey and Lisa would have stood in line together. Thank you, but that's an image I don't need to see. Boys beat the girls because what do we know about carrying toilet plungers between our legs or inserting the stick into a tube? Not much. We're okay with that.
I thought we'd play another game, but realized that everybody was wrapped up in conversations and munching. Just like it should've been, so I left well enough alone.
At 10:00 I realized I haven't stayed up for New Year's the past two years. Last year we were in Illinois and planning to start our salmonella-poisoned joyride home early the next morning. As it turned out, the kid-friendly hotel we had chosen ("984 feet from Six Flags") was full of kids... who ran up and down the halls blowing horns and shaking clackers as midnight neared. The good news is that they retreated to their room shortly after midnight. The bad news is that their room was right over ours. Two years ago I was six months pregnant with Mad and went to bed by 9:00.
Now I don't like to be a wet blanket, but I don't have any regrets about missing the stroke of midnight for either of those years. If it weren't for an extraordinarily long nap this afternoon, I'd be in bed right now. So yes, there was a brief moment last night when I thought two more HOURS? They went by in a flash.
At midnight we pulled poppers and toasted with sparkling cider. Tom and I had an extra special Happy New Year since this was our 10th together.
All told, we had 13 guests for the party and three who spent the night. By 12:30 or so, we were all in bed. Happily for all of us, Mad slept until nearly 8:00 again. Even better for Jo and Pedro, who were downstairs, so did the dog.
We had a late breakfast of an oven omelet and cranberry/apple twist. I forgot (a-freaking-gain) to take the pumpkin bread out, so I sent one home with Jo and P. I still have one. If you like pumpkin bread with nuts, it's all yours, baby.
Jo and Pedro left this afternoon, maybe one-ish. Mom left, and took Corey with her, about half an hour later. And that, my friends, is what an overnight party is like in our house. A little drinking, a lot of laughing, some good food and as much sleep as we're able to squeeze in. I hope yours was as fun and lovely.
- Get up early (like there's another option; Mad's up between 6:15 and 7:00) and find the recipe to make for the breakfast omelet casserole thingy Tom and I last made maybe six or seven years ago. All Internet searches resulted in yucky dishes that involved soppy bread or cream of something disgusting soup.
- Make a shopping list for Tom and send him on his way. He's the better shopper between us when it comes to economics and value. I'm better with getting it done mas rapido.
- Finish up the little bit of cleaning and laundry (thank you, New Year's Eve, for coming right after the deep Christmas cleaning).
- Make an early dinner of roast pork and vegetables.
- Clean up and work on any food prep that needs to be done before the guests arrive. Tom's in charge of the veggies, fruit, cheese and crackers. I'll make a pumpkin marmalade and prep stuff for breakfast.
- Got up at 8:00, because our alarm clock (Madelyn) was a little worn out, apparently. Begged Tom, AKA Finder Man, to get his butt downstairs and help me look for the recipe because I can't find where Tom, AKA Organizer Man, put anything. Took him 5 minutes. If that man has to tell me one more time it's in the second drawer in the filing cabinet... that thing must be like Mary Poppins' carpet bag... *sigh*
- Made a shopping list that was broken down into "Tonight" and "Breakfast" and figured Tom would know what else we'll need for the week. Thought to mention that, although we need juice and milk, he should consider that we have not purchased that second refrigerator he talks about after every party; he should not over-purchase beverages requiring refrigeration. Mentioned that I just did roast chicken and vegetables on Christmas Eve and that maybe we want something different. Tom offered to grill. Told him he needed to start the grill at 3:00 to stay on schedule. Had a conversation and realized that each of us thought the other would be doing the shopping. Tom won shopping, I won cleaning. Yay me. ?
- Did the laundry. Corey and I did the cleaning, organizing, refilling of soap dispensers and stocking of toilet paper. Called Tom at 2:30 to see if he'd fallen off the face of the fricken earth. Man was stuck at his second grocery store (downside of living in the desert is the dearth of organic... or even decent produce). Both were madhouses and neither is particularly expedient on a good day. My economical shopper of a husband spent $400 on groceries. And, although I'd thought to remind him about conserving refrigerator space, I did not actually tell him. So he bought four different juices and milk for Madelyn, Corey and himself (they each drink something different). Plus beer and extra sparkling cider. No ice for the cooler. No water for the rest of the week.
- When Mom showed up a little early for our early dinner, we sent her and Corey to the store for ice and water.
- Early dinner was about an hour and 15 minutes later than I'd planned, but fricken delicious. Tom grilled steaks and made some sort of breakfast potatoes as a side. We still had just under two hours to get ready for the peeps. I handled the marmalade (which was also pretty damned good, happily) and cheese. Tom did stuffed mushroom caps, barbecued drumsticks and... oh, just about everything else while I cleaned up from dinner (the kitchen, that is).
- First guests arrived 15 minutes later. (Another downside of living in the desert, along the main road that gets everybody from LA to Vegas and all other points east, is that you never can tell how bad the traffic will be. So they left extra time and had not one problem.) No offense to anybody else, but these were my two favorite people aside from family. Having them there early didn't stress me out like it might have with someone else. As a sign of how cool these two are, Madelyn loves them. Madelyn is fond of my mother, father and a few other people she sees regularly. Jo and Pedro came with toilet plungers and Mad was a happy girl. We laughed through everything.
The toilet plungers were for a game that Jo had heard of somewhere. She was wise to have us split by gender, especially since you just know Corey and Lisa would have stood in line together. Thank you, but that's an image I don't need to see. Boys beat the girls because what do we know about carrying toilet plungers between our legs or inserting the stick into a tube? Not much. We're okay with that.
I thought we'd play another game, but realized that everybody was wrapped up in conversations and munching. Just like it should've been, so I left well enough alone.
At 10:00 I realized I haven't stayed up for New Year's the past two years. Last year we were in Illinois and planning to start our salmonella-poisoned joyride home early the next morning. As it turned out, the kid-friendly hotel we had chosen ("984 feet from Six Flags") was full of kids... who ran up and down the halls blowing horns and shaking clackers as midnight neared. The good news is that they retreated to their room shortly after midnight. The bad news is that their room was right over ours. Two years ago I was six months pregnant with Mad and went to bed by 9:00.
Now I don't like to be a wet blanket, but I don't have any regrets about missing the stroke of midnight for either of those years. If it weren't for an extraordinarily long nap this afternoon, I'd be in bed right now. So yes, there was a brief moment last night when I thought two more HOURS? They went by in a flash.
At midnight we pulled poppers and toasted with sparkling cider. Tom and I had an extra special Happy New Year since this was our 10th together.
All told, we had 13 guests for the party and three who spent the night. By 12:30 or so, we were all in bed. Happily for all of us, Mad slept until nearly 8:00 again. Even better for Jo and Pedro, who were downstairs, so did the dog.
We had a late breakfast of an oven omelet and cranberry/apple twist. I forgot (a-freaking-gain) to take the pumpkin bread out, so I sent one home with Jo and P. I still have one. If you like pumpkin bread with nuts, it's all yours, baby.
Jo and Pedro left this afternoon, maybe one-ish. Mom left, and took Corey with her, about half an hour later. And that, my friends, is what an overnight party is like in our house. A little drinking, a lot of laughing, some good food and as much sleep as we're able to squeeze in. I hope yours was as fun and lovely.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Oh Holy Hell
Did anybody else realize that our guests will be coming tomorrow night... NOT Friday night like Tom and I have been discussing?
Well why didn't you say so?!?
Well why didn't you say so?!?
Monday, December 28, 2009
Party Planning At Its Least Finest
Ever decide to have a New Year's Eve party? But then, because you live at least 45 miles from anyone, you open your home for a giant sleepover? And as you're inviting people, you include some of your coolest, funniest friends... and also some of your sweetest, nicest friends... so you have people who don't miss the chance to attend a church function (I know! These people talk to me. I can't believe it either) and the ones who never miss a chance to drop an F-bomb or explain their latest theories on evolution, gay rights or why the book listing hundreds of terms for masturbation is a HI-larious must read.
Yeah. Me too. What the hell was I thinking?
So if all goes as "planned" we should have between 12 and 25 people here for the festivities. What festivities? Well, maybe some poker. Definitely the drawing game and probably Boxers or Briefs. (I just found that the game is discontinued. That's the only reason I can come up with for the insane price. You can borrow mine.) And I bought poppers to freak out the poor dog.
Introductions will be something like this:
"People who named their kid Luke Skywalker, meet people who want to open their own accounting business."
"Person who became a minister for the sole purpose of performing gay marriages when they became (briefly) legal in California, meet divorced husband and wife, her boyfriend and all the kids these people are raising."
"People who remodeled their home to be nearly completely green, meet people who think WalMart is right up there with sliced bread."
I sort of want to cancel the reminder that's supposed to go out in two days.
I'll let you know how it goes.
***The drawing game is something we've played with a couple of the cool funnies. Everybody has a piece of paper (preferably not lined, but whatever). At the top of yours, write a common phrase. "Out of the frying pan, into the fryer" is the usual explanation and the one you should definitely not write. Everybody else does the same, but with their own phrases. Don't allow peaking. Fold the very tippy-top of your paper over so it covers the writing, but not much of the paper. Pass it to the left. Open the one you received. Make a drawing to explain the phrase. Fold over and pass to the left. Check out the drawing - but not the actual phrase - and write the phrase you think it's trying to express. Repeat until everyone's paper is returned to them or until you run out of room. Much hilarity should ensue upon seeing what people wrote and drew.
Yeah. Me too. What the hell was I thinking?
So if all goes as "planned" we should have between 12 and 25 people here for the festivities. What festivities? Well, maybe some poker. Definitely the drawing game and probably Boxers or Briefs. (I just found that the game is discontinued. That's the only reason I can come up with for the insane price. You can borrow mine.) And I bought poppers to freak out the poor dog.
Introductions will be something like this:
"People who named their kid Luke Skywalker, meet people who want to open their own accounting business."
"Person who became a minister for the sole purpose of performing gay marriages when they became (briefly) legal in California, meet divorced husband and wife, her boyfriend and all the kids these people are raising."
"People who remodeled their home to be nearly completely green, meet people who think WalMart is right up there with sliced bread."
I sort of want to cancel the reminder that's supposed to go out in two days.
I'll let you know how it goes.
***The drawing game is something we've played with a couple of the cool funnies. Everybody has a piece of paper (preferably not lined, but whatever). At the top of yours, write a common phrase. "Out of the frying pan, into the fryer" is the usual explanation and the one you should definitely not write. Everybody else does the same, but with their own phrases. Don't allow peaking. Fold the very tippy-top of your paper over so it covers the writing, but not much of the paper. Pass it to the left. Open the one you received. Make a drawing to explain the phrase. Fold over and pass to the left. Check out the drawing - but not the actual phrase - and write the phrase you think it's trying to express. Repeat until everyone's paper is returned to them or until you run out of room. Much hilarity should ensue upon seeing what people wrote and drew.
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