My name is Mama. I get that you're new to this world and haven't quite figured out the language yet, but "Mama" does not mean "chew toy." I thought it was cute two days ago when you started acting like you were going to suck on my chin. How we went from that to the way you now clamp your gums like a vice on my chin or jaw bone and shake your head back and forth like a pit bull puppy is not clear. What is clear is that Mama now has bruises along her jawline and on her chin. Not pretty and it hurts. Yes, I'm glad that you somehow use this new skill to work out any gas you've been saving up, but there has got to be another way. Let's put our heads togeth... scratch that... how about we check out frozen washcloths first thing in the morning.
I love you so much and so much,
Your onliest Mama :+)
Monday, November 29, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Eww!
Today I had my annual physical. It was sort of wrong on many levels. Yes, I'm going into them all, so you may want to click away now.
1) The conversation during said exam centered around sweet potato recipes. Doc favors a candied yam with brown sugar, peach liqueur and a ton of butter, but two of his family members keep kosher, so he was modifying. I do a baked sweet potato with orange juice and zest and whole cranberries. Doc thinks he might try it with Cuantro.
I'm easing you in here, can you tell?
2) The appointment was scheduled during the typical time of what I'm going to call my morning constitutional. I really had to go right before the exam. After debating the added discomfort of not going versus the effort trying to make sure I was as tidy afterward as before, I decided to wait. Not sure if I made the right decision, but I did not embarrass myself. I do, however, wonder what a woman looks like when trying not to embarrass herself.
3) After doc was done with his part, I realized I've never mentioned to him that I think I may have been stitched oddly after Fynn was born. So I reached right down there, fumbled around until I found what I was looking for and tried to point it out. He didn't see anything right away, so I had to do it again. He felt around and finally found what I was talking about. Turns out I have a sebaceous cyst that he's going to leave alone for now. Greaaat. (Uh, not that I want to be lanced or anything... I would really prefer the magic wand treatment, please.)
4) After he said, "See you next year!" I mentioned that we may have to switch insurances (from one type of giant to another) next summer. If so, I won't be seeing him. He hugged me and said he would miss having me as his patient, and that he wouldn't miss all of his patients. All very nice, but as he hugged me I thought about the fact that I was wearing a very short pink cotton cape backwards and had a large pink square of fabric covering most of my lower half. I was basically naked. I've been smelling his cologne all day long.
Well, that's it on my end.
1) The conversation during said exam centered around sweet potato recipes. Doc favors a candied yam with brown sugar, peach liqueur and a ton of butter, but two of his family members keep kosher, so he was modifying. I do a baked sweet potato with orange juice and zest and whole cranberries. Doc thinks he might try it with Cuantro.
I'm easing you in here, can you tell?
2) The appointment was scheduled during the typical time of what I'm going to call my morning constitutional. I really had to go right before the exam. After debating the added discomfort of not going versus the effort trying to make sure I was as tidy afterward as before, I decided to wait. Not sure if I made the right decision, but I did not embarrass myself. I do, however, wonder what a woman looks like when trying not to embarrass herself.
3) After doc was done with his part, I realized I've never mentioned to him that I think I may have been stitched oddly after Fynn was born. So I reached right down there, fumbled around until I found what I was looking for and tried to point it out. He didn't see anything right away, so I had to do it again. He felt around and finally found what I was talking about. Turns out I have a sebaceous cyst that he's going to leave alone for now. Greaaat. (Uh, not that I want to be lanced or anything... I would really prefer the magic wand treatment, please.)
4) After he said, "See you next year!" I mentioned that we may have to switch insurances (from one type of giant to another) next summer. If so, I won't be seeing him. He hugged me and said he would miss having me as his patient, and that he wouldn't miss all of his patients. All very nice, but as he hugged me I thought about the fact that I was wearing a very short pink cotton cape backwards and had a large pink square of fabric covering most of my lower half. I was basically naked. I've been smelling his cologne all day long.
Well, that's it on my end.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Skipping Around
Despite a backlog of partially written posts, I'm going straight to this past Friday. Cuz I'm wild and crazy like that, that's why.
Friday was our fifth wedding anniversary, or what I consider our five year + five and a half anniversary. Just think, next year the number of years we'll be married will exceed the number of years we were together before all hell broke loose and he had to snap me up! Unlike previous years, when getting ready for our date or weekend away was fun and relaxing, this day was chaotic.
I got in the shower about 45 minutes before we were supposed to leave. As I was shaving up to there (okay, my knees, but let's just be glad I got to shave at all, 'kay?), I could hear the kids over the monitor in Madelyn's room. Specifically I could hear Fynn crying, Mad fussing and Corey, after 35 seconds of dealing with it, saying, "Mom, I know you're busy but I need you."
Sometimes I wish we had a 2-way speaker system. Sometimes it's good we do not.
Getting dressed, the girls ready and the car loaded with people and things took about an hour. The good news? I was able to wear pants I have only dared to try on since getting pregnant with Mad. And they have thesestupid obnoxious "cute" little button details on the waist that I was finally able to tighten back up. My ass may still be fat and jiggly, but I'm making headway.
The major delay at the end was Mad's repeated refusal to use the potty even though she was doing the pee pee dance and didn't want a diaper for the long car ride down to Grandma's. After she finally went and tried to get away with three M & M's for her success, we got out of the house. It was a few minutes after we were supposed to be at my dad's.
I dropped Corey at Mom's and headed to Dad's ("Grandma's house," according to Mad). While carrying Fynn in the carrier, the diaper bag and Mad's jacket, and helping Mad, who had tripped, I managed to tweak my shoulder. The only thing that could have made things worse by then would have been hot, humid weather. Thankfully it was low 50's and I wasn't starting to glisten or smell like a rhino.
My dad and Margaret gave us our anniversary present. It was a card with a note saying that the gift for five years is wood, and wood comes from trees and paper is also made from trees, so it's wood. And they gave us an amount of money that was suspiciously similar to the loan they'd offered two nights before so we could be sure to buy Christmas presents for the kids. (What's that? I didn't tell you how my employer has now decided that they aren't paying half of my pay for the time I'm taking after my maternity leave ended? Or how they decided to take it all out of the only check I'll get between now and Christmas? Reader's Digest version is that, after I expressed to them quite clearly that they put the original plan in writing and that I've been having stress-induced palpitations as we try to prepare for the next in a series of financial hits because of their antics, they compromised, so we will not be destitute for Christmas. Angry and bitter with them, yes, but there will be presents and love amongst mi familia.)
Tom and I went to a Peruvian restaurant we haven't been to since Mad arrived. Dinner was fabulous. We started and finished with beef empanadas and the best chimichurri sauce. Seriously. There's one left over in my fridge right now and my mouth is watering just thinking about it. I'd eat it, but I'm pretty sure Tom wants it. Although, he did eat most of the other one... hmm...
Anyway, the food was excellent, wine was just as good as I remembered and the conversation never lagged. Considering Tom and I were wiped out before leaving on our date, that's impressive. Or maybe it was the wine.
From what I can tell, Peruvian time moves much more slowly. So dinner was nearly a two hour affair. It's always like that at this place, but the food is definitely worth it. However, it meant that our second plan for the night, seeing a current movie in an actual theater, was no longer an option. It was, like, 8:35 people! And the next time our movie started was over an hour later. Add in the time for the movie, getting the girls, nursing Fynn before leaving, getting Corey and the schlep home and that was not happening.
We headed to a bookstore with a coffee shop, where we bought a few books for the kids and some hot drinks. As we sipped our drinks I gazed lovingly into Tom's bleary red eyes. No, it wasn't too much wine. It was 10:00 at night. Almost. I suggested we call it a night. Tom resisted until I mentioned we still had to get the girls and Corey and drive an hour home. We dashed to the car.
While I was nursing Fynn before leaving, my dad gave me one more present that night. He told me he'd had a dream about my biological father, Russ, someone I haven't spoken with in seven or eight years now. In his dream Dad asked him what he was thinking with the choices he'd made and did he have any idea what he was giving up? Most people only get one father, and a lot of people get mediocre to crappy to absentee fathers. I don't even know how I got so lucky.
By the time we got home last night it was about 12:30. Fynn wanted to nurse again, so I sat here and cuddled her in the dark. Tom crawled into bed. We talked for a minute and he told me I looked nice tonight. And then he fell asleep. Forty-five minutes later I joined him. It's not exactly the big shebang I think we'd envisioned for our fifth anniversary even as recently as last year. But it was fun and loving. Last year we made a baby and this year I got to eat a meal with two hands and without someone standing over me holding the baby while they "wait for me to finish." I'll take it.
Friday was our fifth wedding anniversary, or what I consider our five year + five and a half anniversary. Just think, next year the number of years we'll be married will exceed the number of years we were together before all hell broke loose and he had to snap me up! Unlike previous years, when getting ready for our date or weekend away was fun and relaxing, this day was chaotic.
I got in the shower about 45 minutes before we were supposed to leave. As I was shaving up to there (okay, my knees, but let's just be glad I got to shave at all, 'kay?), I could hear the kids over the monitor in Madelyn's room. Specifically I could hear Fynn crying, Mad fussing and Corey, after 35 seconds of dealing with it, saying, "Mom, I know you're busy but I need you."
Sometimes I wish we had a 2-way speaker system. Sometimes it's good we do not.
Getting dressed, the girls ready and the car loaded with people and things took about an hour. The good news? I was able to wear pants I have only dared to try on since getting pregnant with Mad. And they have these
The major delay at the end was Mad's repeated refusal to use the potty even though she was doing the pee pee dance and didn't want a diaper for the long car ride down to Grandma's. After she finally went and tried to get away with three M & M's for her success, we got out of the house. It was a few minutes after we were supposed to be at my dad's.
I dropped Corey at Mom's and headed to Dad's ("Grandma's house," according to Mad). While carrying Fynn in the carrier, the diaper bag and Mad's jacket, and helping Mad, who had tripped, I managed to tweak my shoulder. The only thing that could have made things worse by then would have been hot, humid weather. Thankfully it was low 50's and I wasn't starting to glisten or smell like a rhino.
My dad and Margaret gave us our anniversary present. It was a card with a note saying that the gift for five years is wood, and wood comes from trees and paper is also made from trees, so it's wood. And they gave us an amount of money that was suspiciously similar to the loan they'd offered two nights before so we could be sure to buy Christmas presents for the kids. (What's that? I didn't tell you how my employer has now decided that they aren't paying half of my pay for the time I'm taking after my maternity leave ended? Or how they decided to take it all out of the only check I'll get between now and Christmas? Reader's Digest version is that, after I expressed to them quite clearly that they put the original plan in writing and that I've been having stress-induced palpitations as we try to prepare for the next in a series of financial hits because of their antics, they compromised, so we will not be destitute for Christmas. Angry and bitter with them, yes, but there will be presents and love amongst mi familia.)
Tom and I went to a Peruvian restaurant we haven't been to since Mad arrived. Dinner was fabulous. We started and finished with beef empanadas and the best chimichurri sauce. Seriously. There's one left over in my fridge right now and my mouth is watering just thinking about it. I'd eat it, but I'm pretty sure Tom wants it. Although, he did eat most of the other one... hmm...
Anyway, the food was excellent, wine was just as good as I remembered and the conversation never lagged. Considering Tom and I were wiped out before leaving on our date, that's impressive. Or maybe it was the wine.
From what I can tell, Peruvian time moves much more slowly. So dinner was nearly a two hour affair. It's always like that at this place, but the food is definitely worth it. However, it meant that our second plan for the night, seeing a current movie in an actual theater, was no longer an option. It was, like, 8:35 people! And the next time our movie started was over an hour later. Add in the time for the movie, getting the girls, nursing Fynn before leaving, getting Corey and the schlep home and that was not happening.
We headed to a bookstore with a coffee shop, where we bought a few books for the kids and some hot drinks. As we sipped our drinks I gazed lovingly into Tom's bleary red eyes. No, it wasn't too much wine. It was 10:00 at night. Almost. I suggested we call it a night. Tom resisted until I mentioned we still had to get the girls and Corey and drive an hour home. We dashed to the car.
While I was nursing Fynn before leaving, my dad gave me one more present that night. He told me he'd had a dream about my biological father, Russ, someone I haven't spoken with in seven or eight years now. In his dream Dad asked him what he was thinking with the choices he'd made and did he have any idea what he was giving up? Most people only get one father, and a lot of people get mediocre to crappy to absentee fathers. I don't even know how I got so lucky.
By the time we got home last night it was about 12:30. Fynn wanted to nurse again, so I sat here and cuddled her in the dark. Tom crawled into bed. We talked for a minute and he told me I looked nice tonight. And then he fell asleep. Forty-five minutes later I joined him. It's not exactly the big shebang I think we'd envisioned for our fifth anniversary even as recently as last year. But it was fun and loving. Last year we made a baby and this year I got to eat a meal with two hands and without someone standing over me holding the baby while they "wait for me to finish." I'll take it.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Is He On Drugs?
What other explanation could there be?
Corey: Mom, can I go clean my room?
Me: Hmm?!
Corey: Can I go clean my room?
Me: Like I'm gonna say no to that?
Corey: I thought you were upset at first.
Me: I didn't think I'd heard you right.
Corey: Mom, can I go clean my room?
Me: Hmm?!
Corey: Can I go clean my room?
Me: Like I'm gonna say no to that?
Corey: I thought you were upset at first.
Me: I didn't think I'd heard you right.
Monday, November 08, 2010
Mini Cooper
I've mentioned my birth board a few times. It's been a source of many things, from stress relief and (big) belly laughs to high blood pressure to, occasionally, comfort.
In January when I joined this board for woman who were due in the far-off days of August, I was just looking to connect with other mamas. And I have. I've gotten a bona fide friend from there. There were also three babies whose stories have pulled me in. Two boys were born back in April have taught me about perseverance. Another, a girl, was born on time, but with a host of conditions to be dealt with.
One of the boys and the girl are home with their families. The other boy... the "middle child", if you will, has only left the confines of the hospital once... as a gift to him and his family right before he had open heart surgery last month. He came through it well, but things did not stay good. This little boy who should be Fynn's age has finally found his way out of the wires and tubes and beeping electronic equipment today. He, Mr. Mini Cooper, will stay in my heart forever.
Perhaps you all can send up some love for this little boy's family tonight.
In January when I joined this board for woman who were due in the far-off days of August, I was just looking to connect with other mamas. And I have. I've gotten a bona fide friend from there. There were also three babies whose stories have pulled me in. Two boys were born back in April have taught me about perseverance. Another, a girl, was born on time, but with a host of conditions to be dealt with.
One of the boys and the girl are home with their families. The other boy... the "middle child", if you will, has only left the confines of the hospital once... as a gift to him and his family right before he had open heart surgery last month. He came through it well, but things did not stay good. This little boy who should be Fynn's age has finally found his way out of the wires and tubes and beeping electronic equipment today. He, Mr. Mini Cooper, will stay in my heart forever.
Perhaps you all can send up some love for this little boy's family tonight.
To Recap
I started out the "weekend" (Thursday night) absolutely sure I was getting my first period in a year. An event for which I'd apparently saved up a years worth of moodiness. Tom was sent out for good chocolate.
Had the surgery. Got hit with trapped gas. Spent Sunday afternoon trying out various remedies.
Sunday afternoon is also when I was suddenly struck with the knowledge that I had been shaved for the procedure.
So last night was spent in a room with my poor innocent daughter, who is too young to get away for long, as I spent the evening trying not to scratch my increasingly itchy crotch while attempting to expel as much gas as possible.
Cue the music:
Had the surgery. Got hit with trapped gas. Spent Sunday afternoon trying out various remedies.
Sunday afternoon is also when I was suddenly struck with the knowledge that I had been shaved for the procedure.
So last night was spent in a room with my poor innocent daughter, who is too young to get away for long, as I spent the evening trying not to scratch my increasingly itchy crotch while attempting to expel as much gas as possible.
Cue the music:
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Under Pressure
I have trapped gas from the surgery. That is a whole lotta painful! This morning Fynn woke up to nurse around 4:00 (old time... our clocks got changed about three hours ago). She was zonked out and in her crib by 4:30. Everyone in the house was asleep. I was tired and laid back down. It was painful enough that I gave up what turned out to be three extra hours of sleep. What mom of a three month old does that?
So this afternoon I consulted Dr. Google and my mother-in-law for remedies. The more solutions I read and try, the less my body wants to give up the gas. I may explode.
So this afternoon I consulted Dr. Google and my mother-in-law for remedies. The more solutions I read and try, the less my body wants to give up the gas. I may explode.
Friday, November 05, 2010
How Are You?
I'm sterile!
Very funny to Tom and I. No one else seemed to laugh nearly as much as we did at the surgery center today.
Everything went very well. I love my OB (and yet I'm still glad he never delivered my girls... go figure). Love that he spent about five minutes chatting with us about Chicago and the ratio of Jews to non-Jews in his last two years of medical school (71/1 both years... one year there was an Italian and the next year there was a Chinese man... oh, and one brave, but odd woman in his graduating class way back in the day).
Found it odd that I now have high quality before and after shots of my tubes, as well as the bonus shots of my ovaries. I was very impressed at how "clean" everything was, for some reason (drugs).
A bit disappointed that my request for a complimentary boob job was declined. Ah well, winter's coming and maybe I'll appreciate my armpit warmers more over the next several months.
I was surprised by how much pain I was in when I became aware that I was waking up. Apparently I'd already assessed my pain at a nine in the half hour before that. It was "only" a 6-8 from when I remember. (For context, when I was in labor with Madelyn and stuck at 8+ for over three hours, I was also at an "8" on the pain scale.)
I'm grateful my dad and Margaret live so close to my doctor and the surgery center (at the same hospital where I delivered my girls). We'd planned on getting out of surgery, getting a bite to eat, grabbing the girls and being home by Mad's nap. Instead we went straight to my dad's, where I pumped (let someone else handle the act of dumping) and then slept for a few hours. When I got up, I repeated the process. We got home just before 7:00 this evening.
So I'm also grateful to my mom for hanging out with Corey (she spent the night last night and said she'd stay until we got home... we did have dinner with her before she left). Then she offered to follow me up the stairs in case I fell. Love her for that. I'd totally take her out if that happened, but it was sweet. And she offered to come back any time this weekend or Monday and Tuesday if I still need help getting around. (However, this puts me in a bit of a pickle, because Margaret also offered once she found out about the surgery.)
I'm still in pain and still walking like it, but it's getting much better as the hours pass. Totally expecting to be fine by Monday. I've been pre-scolded not to overdo things by a few people, so that's well-covered.
Fynn and Mad had a great time with Grandma and Papa today, and I think Mad especially enjoyed having four of her favorite adults together, even if two of us couldn't maintain consciousness. All in all, not a bad day.
My eyes, in case you are wondering, are burning, but I think it's just because I'm tired.
Very funny to Tom and I. No one else seemed to laugh nearly as much as we did at the surgery center today.
Everything went very well. I love my OB (and yet I'm still glad he never delivered my girls... go figure). Love that he spent about five minutes chatting with us about Chicago and the ratio of Jews to non-Jews in his last two years of medical school (71/1 both years... one year there was an Italian and the next year there was a Chinese man... oh, and one brave, but odd woman in his graduating class way back in the day).
Found it odd that I now have high quality before and after shots of my tubes, as well as the bonus shots of my ovaries. I was very impressed at how "clean" everything was, for some reason (drugs).
A bit disappointed that my request for a complimentary boob job was declined. Ah well, winter's coming and maybe I'll appreciate my armpit warmers more over the next several months.
I was surprised by how much pain I was in when I became aware that I was waking up. Apparently I'd already assessed my pain at a nine in the half hour before that. It was "only" a 6-8 from when I remember. (For context, when I was in labor with Madelyn and stuck at 8+ for over three hours, I was also at an "8" on the pain scale.)
I'm grateful my dad and Margaret live so close to my doctor and the surgery center (at the same hospital where I delivered my girls). We'd planned on getting out of surgery, getting a bite to eat, grabbing the girls and being home by Mad's nap. Instead we went straight to my dad's, where I pumped (let someone else handle the act of dumping) and then slept for a few hours. When I got up, I repeated the process. We got home just before 7:00 this evening.
So I'm also grateful to my mom for hanging out with Corey (she spent the night last night and said she'd stay until we got home... we did have dinner with her before she left). Then she offered to follow me up the stairs in case I fell. Love her for that. I'd totally take her out if that happened, but it was sweet. And she offered to come back any time this weekend or Monday and Tuesday if I still need help getting around. (However, this puts me in a bit of a pickle, because Margaret also offered once she found out about the surgery.)
I'm still in pain and still walking like it, but it's getting much better as the hours pass. Totally expecting to be fine by Monday. I've been pre-scolded not to overdo things by a few people, so that's well-covered.
Fynn and Mad had a great time with Grandma and Papa today, and I think Mad especially enjoyed having four of her favorite adults together, even if two of us couldn't maintain consciousness. All in all, not a bad day.
My eyes, in case you are wondering, are burning, but I think it's just because I'm tired.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
The Face In the Mirror
I remember looking at myself in the mirror right before I left the bathroom to go have sex for the first time. And I remember inspecting my face later to see if I'd changed. Was it as obvious to everybody else as it was to me? Were my eyes giving me away?
I'm not sure if I remember the answers now or if what I recall is really just a fantasy.
For the past few days I keep finding my face in the mirror again. No, not because I'm about to have sex for the first time after Fynn. We're currently practicing the Bristol Palin method of birth control. I understand it didn't work so well for her. Maybe she didn't read the instructions. (Or maybe she didn't fall asleep so fast?)
No, I am now at the far end of the womanhood spectrum. Not that far, although I have joked I'll be going straight from maternity to menopause (please let me be joking!).
Friday I'm going in for my laparoscopy tubal sterilization. I feel like they could have come up with a better name. What's wrong with ligation, anyway? Sterilization makes it sound like I'm the black sheep of the family. Trust me, as weird as I am... this sheep ain't the black one!
It's easy to let myself get distracted, and maybe I should let it go with that. Because the focus is this: Today I could have another baby if I chose (okay, yes, and could stay awake... sticklers!). Tomorrow, too. But when I get home on Friday afternoon, that will no longer be true.
Do I want to have more children? No. Not really. I know why we wanted to have a third child, and I am so glad we got Fynn out of the deal, but I could have easily stopped after Mad was born. We were supposed to stop before she was conceived. She was just very intent on joining us and improving our lives.
Add to that my 10 days early daughter. Corey and Mad were born the day after and the day before their respective due dates. It's cool that I got to experience the whole water breaking to kick off labor, but I do suspect Fynn came early because of my age. After she was born I heard that early water breaking is most common among teen moms and those of "advanced maternal age." I'm not up for risking anything else.
And last, I'd like to ingest as few chemicals as possible, and that includes birth control.
So I'm not looking for a way out of the surgery. At this point I'm still not freaking out about it (although I did make a pact with my friend; she'll tell my kids every day that I love them if something happens to me... I'll remind her husband not to let his sister watch their son if something ever happens to her).
But I do look at myself and wonder if I'll see a change. Will it be as obvious to everybody else as it is to me? Will my eyes give me away?
I'm not sure if I remember the answers now or if what I recall is really just a fantasy.
For the past few days I keep finding my face in the mirror again. No, not because I'm about to have sex for the first time after Fynn. We're currently practicing the Bristol Palin method of birth control. I understand it didn't work so well for her. Maybe she didn't read the instructions. (Or maybe she didn't fall asleep so fast?)
No, I am now at the far end of the womanhood spectrum. Not that far, although I have joked I'll be going straight from maternity to menopause (please let me be joking!).
Friday I'm going in for my laparoscopy tubal sterilization. I feel like they could have come up with a better name. What's wrong with ligation, anyway? Sterilization makes it sound like I'm the black sheep of the family. Trust me, as weird as I am... this sheep ain't the black one!
It's easy to let myself get distracted, and maybe I should let it go with that. Because the focus is this: Today I could have another baby if I chose (okay, yes, and could stay awake... sticklers!). Tomorrow, too. But when I get home on Friday afternoon, that will no longer be true.
Do I want to have more children? No. Not really. I know why we wanted to have a third child, and I am so glad we got Fynn out of the deal, but I could have easily stopped after Mad was born. We were supposed to stop before she was conceived. She was just very intent on joining us and improving our lives.
Add to that my 10 days early daughter. Corey and Mad were born the day after and the day before their respective due dates. It's cool that I got to experience the whole water breaking to kick off labor, but I do suspect Fynn came early because of my age. After she was born I heard that early water breaking is most common among teen moms and those of "advanced maternal age." I'm not up for risking anything else.
And last, I'd like to ingest as few chemicals as possible, and that includes birth control.
So I'm not looking for a way out of the surgery. At this point I'm still not freaking out about it (although I did make a pact with my friend; she'll tell my kids every day that I love them if something happens to me... I'll remind her husband not to let his sister watch their son if something ever happens to her).
But I do look at myself and wonder if I'll see a change. Will it be as obvious to everybody else as it is to me? Will my eyes give me away?
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Good Times
I added the link within gadget to my blog. I have enjoyed using it on some other blogs to read or re-experience stories. Turns out I like it just as much on my own blog. I initially started this blog (a bazillion years ago practically) as a journal. This was back in the days when "comments" were titled, "poseurs" and there was nothing I could do to change it (oh, except learn coding). The stuff from way back in the day is pretty badly written. As one of my friends said, "Um, I'm not sure where you were going with that. I read it and I was like, WTF?" (Hello! I was going for mysterious and subtle. So I'll take your WTF as a sign of my success, whoop whoop!)
It's one o'clock right now, and not really unusual for me to be online. Mostly I can't type because it's one-handed, in the dark fumbling while hunching over my daughter that makes my back hurt. Tonight I've been following links from one part of my past to another. I'm mostly pleased. Yes, I'm willing to accept sleep deprivation and elevated hormones as reasons I find it fun to go through.
But as much as I've enjoyed reliving some of my own memories (which sounds strange even to me, but hey... most of my stories involve my kids), the comments have been equally great to re-read. For those of you commenters who are still around, thanks again! Much love and happiness to you.
And now, the fact that I've had both hands free for 20 minutes or so means I really need to get myself to bed while the getting's good. Sleep sweet all!
It's one o'clock right now, and not really unusual for me to be online. Mostly I can't type because it's one-handed, in the dark fumbling while hunching over my daughter that makes my back hurt. Tonight I've been following links from one part of my past to another. I'm mostly pleased. Yes, I'm willing to accept sleep deprivation and elevated hormones as reasons I find it fun to go through.
But as much as I've enjoyed reliving some of my own memories (which sounds strange even to me, but hey... most of my stories involve my kids), the comments have been equally great to re-read. For those of you commenters who are still around, thanks again! Much love and happiness to you.
And now, the fact that I've had both hands free for 20 minutes or so means I really need to get myself to bed while the getting's good. Sleep sweet all!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Well What Do You Call It?
We call breastfeeding a lot of different things around here. Tonight Mad tried to offer Fynn a bite of her apple. Daddy explained that she can't eat an apple like Mad can; she just drinks Mama's milk.
Mad replied, "She need booby love."
Yes, yes she does.
Mad replied, "She need booby love."
Yes, yes she does.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
In Theory, I'm an Idiot, But Who Cares
Theory #1 Sixty-three degrees is perfect weather for the pumpkin patch down the hill (way better than the 85 or so we've been having at home).
Well, okay it is, but not when it's also raining.
Theory #2 Since it's a kind of rainy day, maybe people will stay home today and it won't be crowded.
Yeah, no.
Theory #3 We're not gonna need the stroller! Last time we went to the pumpkin patch at Cal Poly Pomona, we got the "bad" parking about 100 yards from the pumpkin patch entrance. Well if you go on the opening weekend, during the Pumpkin Festival, then you're going to park around the corner and down the street. Apparently other people knew this and came prepared.
And Mad...
Like the guy with the baby carrier.
... who brought Other New Fwog.
Corey, who said, "Thank goodness I don't want a big pumpkin this year!" after seeing where we had to park, ended up relying on his muscles for those not exactly small pumpkins.
Muscles he did not get by eating anything prepared by this group *gag*.
Disclaimer: Gagging is not induced by actually ingesting anything made by the International Viscera Cooler Club. *gag*retch*gag* I've had a problem with stuff that was simply labeled "meat." Is it necessary to be that graphic? *gag* Jeez.
Ahem... *deepcleansingbreath*
My pumpkin didn't come from the patch. No no! I wanted something for baking. The lone grandma in our group suggested the Cinderella (which I tried last year... fabulous!) or the Jarrahdale variety.
It's funky looking, but the Jarrahdale pumpkin is rumored to make a fine pie... or four. Sucker weighs a ton... or at least 15 pounds.
Corey carried it to the car for me as we left. He and Tom had already made one trip to the car with the kids' selections. On our way out Tom stopped to grab some backup sugar pies for me from a stand while the rest of us continued to the car. Fynnie was in the wrap and Mad was tired. So I picked her up and maneuvered her to my back. Eleven or so extra pounds in front, 33 extra pounds in back. And yet Corey had the nerve to complain about the pumpkin in his arms. Reminded me of the argument he and Tom had as we walked to the hospital while I was in labor with Madelyn.
All in all it was a fun day spent with fine people. My theories were all wrong, but we had a great time.
What's that? I didn't show you any photos of Fynnie Fynnie Coco Pop? Did I forget? Pshaw!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Argh! and Yea!
I have been attempting to add photos to a pending post since Sunday night. Still only extremely limited success (and none of the cute ones). I'm hoping my cries for help are the reason "image uploads" is going to be serviced tomorrow. In the meantime, here is a random sampling of my life:
I set up my phone so I can send posts to Blogger, but there must be a step I'm missing.
This has been stuck in my head for a week (I kind of like it):
Potty training is going very well. I gave up the ridiculous idea that changing Mad's diaper while she's laying down will confuse her or I'm failing to reinforce that she's not a baby anymore. So, no more poopy hands for Mama. Whoever thought of using a timer to make kids go to the potty is a fricken genius. I'd kiss him or her on the mouth! And realizing that I can use my cell phone alarm instead of the oven timer (thereby not having to rest Fynn's perpetually nursing body on the stove so I can make the ringing stop) makes me a freaking genius, too! (At least to me.) Mad's been telling me when she needs to go during nap time and overnight. I mostly make it to her in time, but she's diapered then, so it's not as urgent. She's getting good at telling me when she needs to go the rest of the day, too. As I'm getting a sense of her timing, we are not living our entire mornings in 10 minute increments. This is great! However, when I offered to let her wear panties while we took Brother to school, she declined.
My friend with the lung situation has been tested four different ways. One shows a borderline cancer score (6-10 typically means cancer; she got a 6). However, a biopsy shows that there are no lesions. It's not exactly a clean bill of health. The doctor wanted to do another procedure, but the test results weren't close enough to 100% reliable for L, so she declined. She'll go through another PET scan in two months to see if it's grown. There are so many things to say or think about a friend in this situation. I think I know how I'd handle much of it. For one thing, I'd want to know as much as possible. The opposite is true for her. No googling, no super-involved conversations with the doctor. Her philosophy is that everything she ever felt like she wouldn't be able to survive has happened, with this being the big one (if it is, indeed, the big one), but she's survived everything else. Why not this, too, right?
In odd news that I probably shouldn't be mentioning, tomorrow would be my 20th anniversary if I'd stayed married the first time. I cannot imagine still being married to him. I have felt exactly that way since we agreed to divorce. Yet every year at this time I feel a mental countdown. I have no idea where he's at, if he's still married to wife number three (or was it four? I couldn't keep track), or even if he's still alive. I am glad we're not in contact, but I would tolerate him and be decent if he were part of Corey's life. Fricken jackass.
Over the past 24 hours or so we've had some spectacular thunder and lightning. Tom, Fynn and I sat upstairs in our bedroom watching (well, Fynnie nursed... is it possible that she's starting her next growth spurt so early?!?). The strangest thing to me was the lack of heavy winds during most of it. The gentle breeze made it possible to sit here with the window open.... until all of a sudden the storm got serious. Wind, rain, hail. Little chilly until Tom could close the window. I'm so glad we have wireless Internet or I'd be stuck playing solitaire on my phone tonight while Tom and Fynn sleep.
I don't remember mentioning, but I have scheduled my tubal. Two weeks from this Friday. I'm good with the decision again. Really, I always have been; I realized it while talking to my doctor. I'll be 40 in the spring. As I said to the doc, "There's room in the house. There isn't room in the budget or the calendar." Or the car. Corey barely fits back there with the girls. It's good we've gone so many places as a family, but if this continues, we'll have to get a bigger car.
There is still a slim chance we can make it to Chicago for Christmas, because the state still owes me money. If nothing else unexpected happens, the money I'll get through PFL may be enough to do a slightly shorter trip.
Let's end with some good news. I got my statement today showing that my check will be this month will only be a few hundred dollars short. Compared to last month, I feel rich!
I set up my phone so I can send posts to Blogger, but there must be a step I'm missing.
This has been stuck in my head for a week (I kind of like it):
Potty training is going very well. I gave up the ridiculous idea that changing Mad's diaper while she's laying down will confuse her or I'm failing to reinforce that she's not a baby anymore. So, no more poopy hands for Mama. Whoever thought of using a timer to make kids go to the potty is a fricken genius. I'd kiss him or her on the mouth! And realizing that I can use my cell phone alarm instead of the oven timer (thereby not having to rest Fynn's perpetually nursing body on the stove so I can make the ringing stop) makes me a freaking genius, too! (At least to me.) Mad's been telling me when she needs to go during nap time and overnight. I mostly make it to her in time, but she's diapered then, so it's not as urgent. She's getting good at telling me when she needs to go the rest of the day, too. As I'm getting a sense of her timing, we are not living our entire mornings in 10 minute increments. This is great! However, when I offered to let her wear panties while we took Brother to school, she declined.
My friend with the lung situation has been tested four different ways. One shows a borderline cancer score (6-10 typically means cancer; she got a 6). However, a biopsy shows that there are no lesions. It's not exactly a clean bill of health. The doctor wanted to do another procedure, but the test results weren't close enough to 100% reliable for L, so she declined. She'll go through another PET scan in two months to see if it's grown. There are so many things to say or think about a friend in this situation. I think I know how I'd handle much of it. For one thing, I'd want to know as much as possible. The opposite is true for her. No googling, no super-involved conversations with the doctor. Her philosophy is that everything she ever felt like she wouldn't be able to survive has happened, with this being the big one (if it is, indeed, the big one), but she's survived everything else. Why not this, too, right?
In odd news that I probably shouldn't be mentioning, tomorrow would be my 20th anniversary if I'd stayed married the first time. I cannot imagine still being married to him. I have felt exactly that way since we agreed to divorce. Yet every year at this time I feel a mental countdown. I have no idea where he's at, if he's still married to wife number three (or was it four? I couldn't keep track), or even if he's still alive. I am glad we're not in contact, but I would tolerate him and be decent if he were part of Corey's life. Fricken jackass.
Over the past 24 hours or so we've had some spectacular thunder and lightning. Tom, Fynn and I sat upstairs in our bedroom watching (well, Fynnie nursed... is it possible that she's starting her next growth spurt so early?!?). The strangest thing to me was the lack of heavy winds during most of it. The gentle breeze made it possible to sit here with the window open.... until all of a sudden the storm got serious. Wind, rain, hail. Little chilly until Tom could close the window. I'm so glad we have wireless Internet or I'd be stuck playing solitaire on my phone tonight while Tom and Fynn sleep.
I don't remember mentioning, but I have scheduled my tubal. Two weeks from this Friday. I'm good with the decision again. Really, I always have been; I realized it while talking to my doctor. I'll be 40 in the spring. As I said to the doc, "There's room in the house. There isn't room in the budget or the calendar." Or the car. Corey barely fits back there with the girls. It's good we've gone so many places as a family, but if this continues, we'll have to get a bigger car.
There is still a slim chance we can make it to Chicago for Christmas, because the state still owes me money. If nothing else unexpected happens, the money I'll get through PFL may be enough to do a slightly shorter trip.
Let's end with some good news. I got my statement today showing that my check will be this month will only be a few hundred dollars short. Compared to last month, I feel rich!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
I Did It!
*ahh* I almost feel as relieved as I should.
First (as always, right?) a little background. When Fynn was born, Tom took a (blessed) month off from work. During that time, I pretty much stayed upstairs in our room with Fynn. She nursed all the time (so imagine my shock at what nursing her during a growth spurt was like!). I'm pretty sure had the same bedroom hangout routine with Madelyn, only our apartment was so tiny that no matter where everybody else was, our bedroom was right there. Bigger home makes the separation more significant, I think. Plus, Tom was busy taking care of Madelyn this time, as well as hanging out with Corey, preparing meals, doing the shopping and cleaning up the messes that Maisy was suddenly making all over our carpet. (Yes, I almost always realize how lucky I am.)
He was awesome. My favorite part of the whole deal was how much time he spent having fun with Madelyn. For the better part of the last year he'd been working full time at his unfulfilling day job and then putting in crazy hours trying to get his business off the ground. He frequently had commitments four nights a week (gotta save one night for tennis or softball or whatever the fix is at the time), plus he spent about 10 hours on Saturday either in training or trying to drum up more appointments for the upcoming week. Many weeks Mad only saw her Daddy for an hour or so on Saturday morning, all day Sunday and the occasional drive home together on Thursday (sports night). She loved him, no doubt, but she hardly saw him and didn't go to him for much of anything. Now they are best buddies and she clearly adores him.
The downside is that he hardly got to spend any time at all with Fynn. Although Fynn and I came downstairs periodically, I found the air conditioning blowing on us almost no matter where I sat. The one place it didn't hit us was in a seat Mad especially enjoys using as her own personal jungle gym, but only when the chair is occupied. So we stayed up and everybody else mostly stayed down.
The long-term effect is that Tom's not as comfortable with Fynn as he was with Mad at this age. Last weekend I convinced him to put Fynn in the Moby wrap while I got my hair lopped off. It worked beautifully. He wore her again today, twice. The first time I helped a little with getting the wrap on (right up to his comment, "This is a little like having my mom help me get dressed when I was a little... hey, no... I didn't mean it like that!"). The second time he did it entirely himself.
I used my free time to get a shower and also to work on the table and chairs that still need to be clear-coated. Between Corey and I, everything has it's first coat. A little buffing and a couple more coats and we may actually be able to use this fricking thing before it's two years old. At this point, though, we're racing against the weather. Fall is a pretty windy time in So Cal, and it's especially windy up here. Sometimes it sounds like a train's passing through if we have a window or two open in the evening. We could only work until about 2:15 today before it started kicking up. Seemed to be bringing a storm in, but we'll see. Corey and I are in complete agreement that we cannot believe we ever used to enjoy staining furniture.
The table and chairs aren't perfect. Heck, none of the pieces we've done together are, but there are some ridiculous errors on the chairs. However, after spending whatever free time we could find over the last month when it wasn't windy or humid (gah! didn't I move to the middle of an arid desert?) just trying to get the chairs "fixed," I have decided that thoseannoying frustrating glaring mistakes areas just add character. Oh, and I've decided that I'm never ever ever having chairs with spindles again. Spindles suck.
*ohm*
This evening I was telling Tom (as Fynn nursed for pretty much her second solid hour in a row) that I feel pressure to get something done when he's got her. It's nothing he's doing or saying. I'm putting the pressure all on myself. So tonight, when Fynn nursed herself to sleep for the third or fourth time in three hours, but then woke up again as soon as I tried to put her down, I changed tactics. And her diaper. And took her downstairs to Tom. I believe he's rocked her to sleep.
I should be sleeping now, too. He probably is sleeping in the glider. Instead, I came online to type with two hands and without hunching over. I've had about 45 minutes of free time. It's been lovely.
But I believe I hear a tiny, but effective set of lungs calling for me.
First (as always, right?) a little background. When Fynn was born, Tom took a (blessed) month off from work. During that time, I pretty much stayed upstairs in our room with Fynn. She nursed all the time (so imagine my shock at what nursing her during a growth spurt was like!). I'm pretty sure had the same bedroom hangout routine with Madelyn, only our apartment was so tiny that no matter where everybody else was, our bedroom was right there. Bigger home makes the separation more significant, I think. Plus, Tom was busy taking care of Madelyn this time, as well as hanging out with Corey, preparing meals, doing the shopping and cleaning up the messes that Maisy was suddenly making all over our carpet. (Yes, I almost always realize how lucky I am.)
He was awesome. My favorite part of the whole deal was how much time he spent having fun with Madelyn. For the better part of the last year he'd been working full time at his unfulfilling day job and then putting in crazy hours trying to get his business off the ground. He frequently had commitments four nights a week (gotta save one night for tennis or softball or whatever the fix is at the time), plus he spent about 10 hours on Saturday either in training or trying to drum up more appointments for the upcoming week. Many weeks Mad only saw her Daddy for an hour or so on Saturday morning, all day Sunday and the occasional drive home together on Thursday (sports night). She loved him, no doubt, but she hardly saw him and didn't go to him for much of anything. Now they are best buddies and she clearly adores him.
The downside is that he hardly got to spend any time at all with Fynn. Although Fynn and I came downstairs periodically, I found the air conditioning blowing on us almost no matter where I sat. The one place it didn't hit us was in a seat Mad especially enjoys using as her own personal jungle gym, but only when the chair is occupied. So we stayed up and everybody else mostly stayed down.
The long-term effect is that Tom's not as comfortable with Fynn as he was with Mad at this age. Last weekend I convinced him to put Fynn in the Moby wrap while I got my hair lopped off. It worked beautifully. He wore her again today, twice. The first time I helped a little with getting the wrap on (right up to his comment, "This is a little like having my mom help me get dressed when I was a little... hey, no... I didn't mean it like that!"). The second time he did it entirely himself.
I used my free time to get a shower and also to work on the table and chairs that still need to be clear-coated. Between Corey and I, everything has it's first coat. A little buffing and a couple more coats and we may actually be able to use this fricking thing before it's two years old. At this point, though, we're racing against the weather. Fall is a pretty windy time in So Cal, and it's especially windy up here. Sometimes it sounds like a train's passing through if we have a window or two open in the evening. We could only work until about 2:15 today before it started kicking up. Seemed to be bringing a storm in, but we'll see. Corey and I are in complete agreement that we cannot believe we ever used to enjoy staining furniture.
The table and chairs aren't perfect. Heck, none of the pieces we've done together are, but there are some ridiculous errors on the chairs. However, after spending whatever free time we could find over the last month when it wasn't windy or humid (gah! didn't I move to the middle of an arid desert?) just trying to get the chairs "fixed," I have decided that those
*ohm*
This evening I was telling Tom (as Fynn nursed for pretty much her second solid hour in a row) that I feel pressure to get something done when he's got her. It's nothing he's doing or saying. I'm putting the pressure all on myself. So tonight, when Fynn nursed herself to sleep for the third or fourth time in three hours, but then woke up again as soon as I tried to put her down, I changed tactics. And her diaper. And took her downstairs to Tom. I believe he's rocked her to sleep.
I should be sleeping now, too. He probably is sleeping in the glider. Instead, I came online to type with two hands and without hunching over. I've had about 45 minutes of free time. It's been lovely.
But I believe I hear a tiny, but effective set of lungs calling for me.
Advice
A soon-to-be-wed woman on my birth board asked for tips to keep her marriage strong. I'm posting my response here because this will be easier to find when I need a refresher.
Here's what we do when we're doing things really well (sometimes we forget and go back to bad habits):
*Respect one another whether you're in each other's presence or not ~ I see a lot of posts bitching about the husband being stupid, a loser, incompetent with the baby, etc. Venting is one thing, but unless he's doing something illegal, immoral or otherwise dangerous, try hard not to be that kind of wife. Don't let him be the kind of husband who would be mean to you or bash you to others either.
*Have fun together ~ Enjoying one another's company and having some friends in common is vital.
*Have separate interests ~ Don't do everything together.
*Understand that having a baby and getting married will make things more challenging... but know that you'd feel challenged without the baby. It's a little something extra to deal with right off, but not an extra reason to quit early.
*Know that being right doesn't necessarily mean you're going to win. This one is sometimes still hard for me. Pointing out how right you are or how wrong he is might make you feel better for about 30 seconds, but it's not going to solve the problem or keep you close to the man you love.
*Remember what brought you together ~ Times get hard once in a while, sometimes for a long while (that first year was a doozie for Tom and I, and we'd been together over five years by the time we wed), but you two are making this monumental decision because of several reasons. Write them down now while they're fresh and look at your list when you need to. Add to it when you can.
For example, by the time my husband got home last night, I was fried. Not because of anything bad, but I've been potty training our toddler this week (whew!). After we got our toddler to bed, I was supremely annoyed by the sound of my husband dragging his feet on the floor... and then I realized he was just getting to use the bathroom. Neither of us likes public restrooms so much. Tom usually goes from the front door to the restroom in the evening. He'd been home for about three hours when he finally got to go last night. He helped with dinner and the girls, then we ate. Then it was the bedtime routine and then he got a minute or two to himself. So, on my list of more than a million reasons why I love my husband... he waited to use the restroom so he could be with his family on a night when I really needed the help (and yes, I'm so glad I didn't cop an attitude about his feet dragging, even though it drives me up the wall on a good day).
I guess what it all really comes down to is that each of you should try to be the kind of person you'd want to be married to. Sometimes you're going to mess up, and so will he. Hopefully by keeping the other person in mind at all times, those mistakes will be relatively minor and you can continue to grow and love each other.
What advice would you give? Did anyone ever advise you before marriage? Did you heed it?
Here's what we do when we're doing things really well (sometimes we forget and go back to bad habits):
*Respect one another whether you're in each other's presence or not ~ I see a lot of posts bitching about the husband being stupid, a loser, incompetent with the baby, etc. Venting is one thing, but unless he's doing something illegal, immoral or otherwise dangerous, try hard not to be that kind of wife. Don't let him be the kind of husband who would be mean to you or bash you to others either.
*Have fun together ~ Enjoying one another's company and having some friends in common is vital.
*Have separate interests ~ Don't do everything together.
*Understand that having a baby and getting married will make things more challenging... but know that you'd feel challenged without the baby. It's a little something extra to deal with right off, but not an extra reason to quit early.
*Know that being right doesn't necessarily mean you're going to win. This one is sometimes still hard for me. Pointing out how right you are or how wrong he is might make you feel better for about 30 seconds, but it's not going to solve the problem or keep you close to the man you love.
*Remember what brought you together ~ Times get hard once in a while, sometimes for a long while (that first year was a doozie for Tom and I, and we'd been together over five years by the time we wed), but you two are making this monumental decision because of several reasons. Write them down now while they're fresh and look at your list when you need to. Add to it when you can.
For example, by the time my husband got home last night, I was fried. Not because of anything bad, but I've been potty training our toddler this week (whew!). After we got our toddler to bed, I was supremely annoyed by the sound of my husband dragging his feet on the floor... and then I realized he was just getting to use the bathroom. Neither of us likes public restrooms so much. Tom usually goes from the front door to the restroom in the evening. He'd been home for about three hours when he finally got to go last night. He helped with dinner and the girls, then we ate. Then it was the bedtime routine and then he got a minute or two to himself. So, on my list of more than a million reasons why I love my husband... he waited to use the restroom so he could be with his family on a night when I really needed the help (and yes, I'm so glad I didn't cop an attitude about his feet dragging, even though it drives me up the wall on a good day).
I guess what it all really comes down to is that each of you should try to be the kind of person you'd want to be married to. Sometimes you're going to mess up, and so will he. Hopefully by keeping the other person in mind at all times, those mistakes will be relatively minor and you can continue to grow and love each other.
What advice would you give? Did anyone ever advise you before marriage? Did you heed it?
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Potty Training, Day One (Not for the Squeamish)
What I've learned today:
It has been a triumphant day. I've heard this method can work in three days (or that it can take weeks or even months!). Wish us luck for tomorrow.
- The "five minutes off, five minutes on" method is too much. I prefer the "10 minutes off, stay on a reasonable time" method.
- My daughter can be taught in three hours or less to stop what she's doing and head to the potty once the oven timer goes off.
- The pause function on the TV is a wonderful feature that helps keep a little girl from feeling rushed so she won't miss Abby's Flying Fairy School.
- You cannot leave poop on the floor with Maisy around. I left it for 10 seconds while I got Mad to the potty, but it was still gone when I returned. I almost vomited, but I was also kind of grateful I didn't have to clean it up all by myself.
- That little ladybug-shaped egg timer Mad loves? Having it go off in the bathroom because you're trying to get her to stay on the seat for 2-3 minutes is NOT a good idea. Causes a certain little girl to somehow jump off the potty with the seat adapter attached to her backside until she lands in your lap. (So proud of her for getting back up there later! She keeps saying, "No wadybug in the potty. It's too woud in the potty.")
- The idea that you can simply dump poop from a diaper into the potty is freaking ridiculous, especially if your daughter pooped and then hopped and scooted all over her bed while not napping .
- Mad can only bend over and touch her toes for so long while Mama cleans that massive poo in the "you're not a baby, so you don't lay down for diaper changes" way. And when she falls, she's probably going to land her poopy butt right on the hand that cleans her.
- Telling a child three weeks before you actually start a potty training method, "I'll give you a candy when you pee in the potty, two if you poop!" is bribery. Bribery is bad.
- There is nothing like the expressions of surprise and pride that come over Mad's face when she uses the potty. (Maybe bribery is not so bad after all?)
- Mad fully comprehends the difference between wants and needs. In between successful trips to the potty today she said, "I want... *looks away wistfully*... I need a candy."
It has been a triumphant day. I've heard this method can work in three days (or that it can take weeks or even months!). Wish us luck for tomorrow.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Not Quite A Member
I know, I know... every third blog has a Wordless Wednesday feature. Which I love, don't get me wrong. I'm just not a joiner... not to mention I have got to be one of the wordiest people out there. So here it is, Monday night, and here are some photos that I love:
Sisterly smooches
One is thrilled and the other, at least, can breathe
Talking with Daddy
Two months of cuteness and bliss
How Daddy and Fynnie made it through while Mommy went out to get her haircut
Bonafide teamwork. In my own home.
Can we... open dis? (Now think of that every three seconds or so for 45 minutes.)
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Mixing It Up
Here's another hodgepodge rundown of life lately:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Mad-a-speak ~ "I putting a ball on my butt, Dad," really means, "I'm sitting on my ball, Dad."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Today I went from this
to this
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Mad-a-speak ~ "I putting a ball on my butt, Dad," really means, "I'm sitting on my ball, Dad."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Today I went from this
(you can thank me later for sparing you the sight of my extremely tired eyes).
I did have to wrestle the big round brushes out of the stylist's hands. "Yes, I have curly hair. Yes, I love straight hair as much as you apparently do. But I've been out of the house for over an hour and I can feel my baby calling me. You're going to see physical evidence of my psychic abilities very soon if you don't just dry my hair and let me get out of here."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Our financial woes have been resolved without loans and with only being late on two payments. One of them we were still within the "grace period." The other called me yesterday. We were less than a week overdue. On the one hand, I'm glad to know they won't just let us get behind due to sleep deprivation (after Mad was born I overpaid one bill by $250... money I'd intended to send somewhere else... whoops!). On the other hand... seriously? After five days I have to confirm every piece of contact information you have on me? I resisted the urge to have the poor woman repeat herself after each one. She said due to the economy she has to ask everybody these questions. I hate her job for her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I have found another mom's group in my area. There is an event Tuesday evening (Mom's Night Out! At Starbucks!!) I'm hoping to attend. It all depends on Fynnie. We'd intended for her two month doctor visit/shot to be last week, but there was a scheduling error. Thankfully I know they're closed on Friday afternoons and called earlier in the week to see when her real appointment was. Turns out the girl had put us down for December 8, not October. I'm all for delaying vaccines to a point, but there are some I think should be given as cold and flu season starts up. So her new appointment is this coming Tuesday afternoon. We only do one shot at a time, but if I recall correctly, the first one is a doozie. If she's not feeling well, I'm not going, obviously. But the thing is that I've found people. Now I just have to meet them and take it from there.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Corey has been making big plans for Halloween with his cousin Sarah. The original plan was for Sarah and her friends to all dress like zombies; Corey will be a zombie hunter. Tonight I got this email from my sister-in-law:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Corey has been making big plans for Halloween with his cousin Sarah. The original plan was for Sarah and her friends to all dress like zombies; Corey will be a zombie hunter. Tonight I got this email from my sister-in-law:
Sarah is not going as a zombie princess. Nor is she going with the group that will be zombie princesses. She is going with her old friends, and Corey knows all of them. Sarah is going to be a rubber ducky girl, but if Corey would like a zombie, she is willing to add a zombie aspect to her costume.Sarah's a giver, that girl!
Saturday, October 02, 2010
How $37 Can Suddenly Seem Like... Not A Lot... But More
I get paid on the last business day of the month. That's it. When I was a single mama, it meant paying all the bills and doing one massive grocery shopping trip at the start of each month. Frozen vegetables and meat stocked our freezer. Sometimes I wished I could get a fridge/freezer combo where the freezer was larger. Once Tom and I married, I rejoiced in fresh fruits and veggies.
A few weeks ago I got a notice from the payroll department showing how my September check would be reduced by 50% for my days on leave. Dates were listed along with amounts, but there was no real explanation. Last week I got another yellow slip in the mail detailing dates and deductions, but again without an explanation. The deductions on this form were about half of the original amounts. I ridiculously assumed that the second form canceled out the first. Nope.
Apparently they hadn't docked my pay for all of my maternity leave in August. So my check was docked half pay for nine days in August plus 22 days in September. Take out taxes, my standard deductions and the money that goes straight to my car payment, and I was left with a very small check.
When I called the bank Thursday morning on somehow I got off the phone thinking the direct deposit was for $37. When I called Payroll later in the day, I learned that I'd overestimated my wealth. In fact, my check for the entire month of September was $32.48. Sweet!
All is not lost; I should be receiving a sizable check from State Disability, which will cover about 2/3 of what's missing. I called Wednesday to see when I can expect it because it seems to be overdue. The customer-no-service person I spoke with couldn't tell me if the certification I'd sent in had been received, only that it will take 10 days to process my check and two days to send it out once it's processed. Could she tell me how much to expect? No she could/would not.
So, yes, we are in a mad scramble to gather our funds from various sources to just pay the mortgage this week. The money we'd set aside to maybepossiblyhopefully make our biennial trip to Chicago at Christmas? Gone. Happy Christmas everyone. We can't come see you, but we still have a home!
Fun times, to be sure.
A few weeks ago I got a notice from the payroll department showing how my September check would be reduced by 50% for my days on leave. Dates were listed along with amounts, but there was no real explanation. Last week I got another yellow slip in the mail detailing dates and deductions, but again without an explanation. The deductions on this form were about half of the original amounts. I ridiculously assumed that the second form canceled out the first. Nope.
Apparently they hadn't docked my pay for all of my maternity leave in August. So my check was docked half pay for nine days in August plus 22 days in September. Take out taxes, my standard deductions and the money that goes straight to my car payment, and I was left with a very small check.
When I called the bank Thursday morning on somehow I got off the phone thinking the direct deposit was for $37. When I called Payroll later in the day, I learned that I'd overestimated my wealth. In fact, my check for the entire month of September was $32.48. Sweet!
All is not lost; I should be receiving a sizable check from State Disability, which will cover about 2/3 of what's missing. I called Wednesday to see when I can expect it because it seems to be overdue. The customer-no-service person I spoke with couldn't tell me if the certification I'd sent in had been received, only that it will take 10 days to process my check and two days to send it out once it's processed. Could she tell me how much to expect? No she could/would not.
So, yes, we are in a mad scramble to gather our funds from various sources to just pay the mortgage this week. The money we'd set aside to maybepossiblyhopefully make our biennial trip to Chicago at Christmas? Gone. Happy Christmas everyone. We can't come see you, but we still have a home!
Fun times, to be sure.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Odds and Ends
Yesterday we hosted a party so that everyone could come and meet Fynnie... or see her again. Compared to Mad's blowout, this was small. But in reality, it was well-attended and quite lovely. The invitation said people should drop in for "snacks and a snuggle"... so why we spent yesterday making a Mediterranean chicken dish, falafel, tahini and tzatziki among other things is unclear to me. It all worked out well. The best part was that I sampled a piece of chocolate cake with mocha filling yesterday. It's one of the two flavors we had at our wedding. Loved it! Not that I was surprised. The surprise was that Fynn didn't get a rash from it. Corey and Mad were both so sensitive to it. The only time I tried chocolate while nursing Mad, she got a nasty rash later that day that took three days to heal. Now, if only there were some way to keep Corey from eating all of the chocolate cake before I get a chance to have more.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I forgot to mention that the photo shoots went horribly. Well, not horribly. Two shots were taken of Mad, but we did not get a shot of Fynn at all; the photographer apparently only had that traditional Sears/Penney's "my baby can hold her head up" shot in mind. Fynn can hold her head up, she just hated the ridiculous positioning of the rest of her body. When I mentioned that I was hoping for something more creative (on the second day), the photographer suggested doing a silhouette of me holding Fynn in my arms with our faces close together. By then Fynn's sweet face was contorted in her efforts to tell me what for! I requested that my free 8 x 10 be made from one of Mad's shots from earlier in the week. Photog-girl had reformatted the disk. Thankfully I'd gotten some pictures of her that day.
I got a picture of Fynn after the second day... once she was out of her outfit and much more comfortable.
She was glad all the nonsense was over.
The photographer offered to reschedule again, but I declined.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Madelyn is becoming quite the big sister. This weekend she gave Fynn her first kisses. This evening she wanted to hold her. Yesterday morning she was all about the "milk in a bag" (whenever I pump she asks if I'm doing milk in a bag). She wanted to do it, too.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Yesterday one of my friends and her kids did not make it to the party. She's the same friend who just paid me back for her wedding attire. I got a call from her oldest daughter saying they were at the ER because L couldn't breathe and was having chest pains. Now, she's not a hypochondriac or overly dramatic person where health is concerned, but the thought did cross my mind that she might have been having an anxiety attack at the thought of seeing Nance again. They haven't seen one another since the wedding, and I believe Nance ended up footing the bill entirely for things that were going to be shared.
Turns out she was not having an anxiety attack. The doctors found a mass in her lung. It's small and they still have not determined if it's pneumonia, pleurisy or cancer. Who'd have thought I'd ever be hoping my friend has pneumonia? She had a fever today and her rationale is that you don't get a fever with cancer. Having watched Ken die from leukemia, I know that fevers happen, but I'm hoping she's right.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I forgot to mention that the photo shoots went horribly. Well, not horribly. Two shots were taken of Mad, but we did not get a shot of Fynn at all; the photographer apparently only had that traditional Sears/Penney's "my baby can hold her head up" shot in mind. Fynn can hold her head up, she just hated the ridiculous positioning of the rest of her body. When I mentioned that I was hoping for something more creative (on the second day), the photographer suggested doing a silhouette of me holding Fynn in my arms with our faces close together. By then Fynn's sweet face was contorted in her efforts to tell me what for! I requested that my free 8 x 10 be made from one of Mad's shots from earlier in the week. Photog-girl had reformatted the disk. Thankfully I'd gotten some pictures of her that day.
I got a picture of Fynn after the second day... once she was out of her outfit and much more comfortable.
The photographer offered to reschedule again, but I declined.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Madelyn is becoming quite the big sister. This weekend she gave Fynn her first kisses. This evening she wanted to hold her. Yesterday morning she was all about the "milk in a bag" (whenever I pump she asks if I'm doing milk in a bag). She wanted to do it, too.
The exact quote was, "I doing milk in a bag. I make it for Baby Fynn. I need to switch sides." Who among us has gone that extra mile for their baby sister?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Yesterday one of my friends and her kids did not make it to the party. She's the same friend who just paid me back for her wedding attire. I got a call from her oldest daughter saying they were at the ER because L couldn't breathe and was having chest pains. Now, she's not a hypochondriac or overly dramatic person where health is concerned, but the thought did cross my mind that she might have been having an anxiety attack at the thought of seeing Nance again. They haven't seen one another since the wedding, and I believe Nance ended up footing the bill entirely for things that were going to be shared.
Turns out she was not having an anxiety attack. The doctors found a mass in her lung. It's small and they still have not determined if it's pneumonia, pleurisy or cancer. Who'd have thought I'd ever be hoping my friend has pneumonia? She had a fever today and her rationale is that you don't get a fever with cancer. Having watched Ken die from leukemia, I know that fevers happen, but I'm hoping she's right.
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