Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Perhaps if she had proposed this midway in December I may have been more willing to entertain the idea. After all, mid November we are still starry-eyed and naive to the fact that a) we'll actually FIND the perfect gift for each and every one on our list b) it is in our price range or something we can make, and c) we'll find the time to make it if it is the latter. But, she did not. She made the proposal in November.
OK, I'll finally admit I was short sighted. I realized that today at about 3 p.m. as I was wandering around Best Buy frantically looking for something - anything- that resembled that "perfect" gift for my parents. I was even willing to spend twice what I would have originally been willing to spend. I was desperate. It was probably the desperation on my face or the frantic look that made some poor guy in a blue "Best Buy" shirt came up to me. He naively uttered those words he probably was required to utter and learned in training "May I help you". I am sure he wasn't prepared for me to get down on my knees and grab his feet begging him to help me find a gift for $50 or less for a retired couple who live in a motorhome and can't gather a bunch of stuff and who buy whatever they need. I am also sure he wasn't prepared for the tear stained cheek as I looked up hoping for him to majically turn into a jolly old elf who would pull out the perfect gift from his knapsack. Oh, no. He wasn't prepared.
The poor boy did direct me here and there. And I finally felt sorry for him and pretended that he had solved my problem. I picked up a webcam and stammered around until he went in another direction, probably in the direction of store security. Then I put it back and snuck out of there before he could see my empty hands. I fully expect to see my picture on the wall at Best Buy with a sign that says "Do not help".
I wandered around town a while. I thought "A sweater? No, they try to travel where it is warm." "A goldfish? No, the water will slosh out while they go down the highway".
I was down to "underwear" and "belly button cleaner" before I realized the inevitable. It's gift certificates for a restaurant again this year. But worst of all I have to admit my sister is right.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
It is CHRISTMAS TIME. We all know what happens at Christmas time. The family sits around eating Christmas cookies, chocolate covered cherries, and appetizers they normally wouldn't touch the other 11 months of the year because of the calories. We go to Christmas parties with the intention of just having a bite or two and end up spending most of the night next to the buffet table sneaking a bite when no one is looking. We make Christmas cookies as gifts thinking we will give them all away this year only to "sample" a dozen just like last year. We think they'll exercise extra the next day but then they get caught up in the things to do we forget.
Yes, on average Americans gain 5 pounds at the holidays, and my family is no exception. But, while everyone is whining that they are gaining weight, I'm still losing. I'm now 10 pounds below my pre-pregnancy weight and I'm still losing about a pound or two a month. Is it because I'm determined not to gain? Is it because I have the willpower my family doesn't? Oh, no. I can eat with the best of them.
I owe the weight loss to breastfeeding. Which makes me ecstatic, but on the other hand I'm a little worried. I've come accusomted to eating crap, and a lot of it. I had birthday cake for breakfast the past few days. Oh, I'll eat my vegetables and a well balanced meal so I get the nutrients to pass on to Rachel, but I won't pass up the chocolate covered pretzels my friend gave me as a gift. No siree, bub. I've been eating out the wazoo.
So, on to my worry. I can't breastfeed forever. In fact, Rachel has decided it is fun to clamp down while feeding and wiggle her head back and forth. This is fine right now that she doesn't have teeth, but they're coming soon. She also thinks it's fun to show off her new "grab the toys" skill and grab and pinch mommy's boob while nursing. As much as my mom thinks this is hilarious it doesn't fare well for future breastfeeding.
Next time mom laughs at Rachel's antics I'll just remind her I gave her my "fat" jeans that I no longer can wear and she has grown into. Then again, maybe that's not a good idea.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Today I got 2 seasons of Little House on the Prairie (YAY!) from my in-laws, a chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting (my favorite) from my hubby, and a cold from Rachel, who also chose to keep one for herself.
Actually, the best gift I am getting/got was my mom. She agreed to take care of Rachel tonight while I sleep. SLEEP! I can't wait.
We took Rachel BACK to the pediatritian today, whose office knows her quite well now, to speak of her sleeping. When I told the pediatritian what we've done/are doing and a typical day at our house she gave me a referral to the Sleep Disorder Clinic at Texas Children's Hospital. Sigh.
The thing is, she goes to sleep, but she wakes up within 30 minutes. She is tired ALL THE TIME. I've read Dr. Sears, Dr. Farber, the Baby Whisperer, T. Barry Brazleton, you name it. Nothing works.
Tomorrow I try the clinic. We'll see but I'm not holding my breath.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Not only is Jesus's brithday in the same month, but so is my mother's birthday (December 10th), and my sister's (December 6th). How dare they! Mine is December 14th. So, growing up not only did I get combo Birthday/Christmas presents but I also had a combo birthday party with my sister. And what's worse is often friends didn't come anyway because their parents were making them go to some boring Christmas party at their work or something. At least that was what they told me. I remember when I was 10 my very best friend in the whole wide world didn't show to my party because her dad got her tickets to the Nutcracker. Humph. I would have run across the room on my toes if that's what she wanted.
My mom tried. She thought it would be fun to always get the Christmas decorations out on one of our birthdays. To make it sort of a tradition. And on another birthday we would make Christmas cookies. I guess she never really cared that her birthday was overshadowed, too, by Christmas.
When your birthday is 11 days before Christmas you also always end up with lots of sweaters and winter clothes, because you get them as gifts, but your summer wardrobe is a little lacking. At least that's the excuse I use for never being in style in the summer. Now that I'm a mom, though, I get my first summertime gift giving occassion this year with Mother's day. It better be good. (I wonder if my husband is still reading my blog?)
As adults my mom, sister, and I have made it a tradition to get together in the middle of our birthdays and go shopping. The problem is the malls are so crowded with holiday shoppers we can barely squeeze down the isle. This year we're going to go ahead and make the Christmas Cookies, too, if we can muster up the strength from fighting off old ladies in the perfume isle.
Then of course is New Years. But by the time we celebrate three birthdays and Christmas, forget New Years. We're going to bed at 9 p.m.
Now, please someone tell my WHY I got married on January 2nd? That screws another gift giving day for me and by then we're REALLY celebrated out from three birthdays, Christmas and New Years. We go to bed at 7 p.m. (Ok, Ok, on your anniversary going to bed at 7 p.m. IS celebrating).
You know, though, who I REALLY feel sorry for? My dad. After we spend December celebrating three birthdays, Christmas, New Years and our Anniversary on January 2nd, he has his birthday on January 9th. He is lucky to get a card.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
So, the screaming went on and on. At about 2 a.m. the house was quiet except for the whails of a 4 month old. I was in her room which is lit only by a 2 watt night light. I was standing over the crib which faces the wall with her in my arms. It was cold that night. Well, cold for Houston, about 55 degrees, so I had on my big red fuzzy bathrobe.
Bryan couldn't sleep, apparently. Rightly so, as I mentioned the opera singer thing. So, what does he decide to do? He decides to come in there with me. Which is all fine and dandy, except he thinks he needs to be quiet and not talk as to not desturb what I am trying to do with this child. So, he comes up behind me when I am stading by the crib facing the wall and taps me on the shoulder. In my big red fuzzy bathrobe I thought I felt a tap, but deep down thought I was just imagining things because the tap was so light. I turned around and there was Bryan behind me. Except at 2 a.m. in my big red fuzzy bathrobe in a 2 watt bulb lit room with a 4 month old screaming at me I didn't realize it was my loving husband.
I screamed. Actually it was more of an "ah..ah..ahhhh...ahhhh...AHHHH!" He is lucky I had a child in my arms because instinctually I think I would have kicked his man parts. I swear I've never been so scared in all my life. Not even on that roller coaster at Six Flags.
As I was screaming he said "Sorry! Sorry! I'm Sorry!!" I finally realized it was him before any permanent harm was done to anyone. He apologized for about 5 minutes and I kept saying "It's OK" in a wifey "It's not OK" sort of way. Yea, he'll hear about this later when he thinks I've forgiven him.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Anyway, enough whining. That's where I've been and I realize it was rude just to disappear. I promise to do better.
Friday, November 04, 2005
As you can tell the posts have been coming fewer and further in between. I guess I have been applying my grandmother's old saying "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all" to my blog. Except that I can think of nice things to say. It's more like "If you can't write anything good, then don't write anything at all". To all of you that actually write something once a day, and something GOOD once a day how do you do it??
Since my mind seems to have turned to mush since I got pregnant and had a child (I'll at least blame it on that to make myself feel better) there's nothing in there except 'how many poops has she had today' and 'what time was she fed last?'
I used to read. I haven't cracked open a book since she was born three months ago. I had started Leo Tolstoy's book "Anna Karenina" before Rachel was born, and now I opened it and tried to start it again. It was like I forgot how to read. I couldn't keep up with who was who and where was where. I better stick to "Clifford the Big Red Dog Counts to Three" and "I Can Help Mommy" by the Muppet Babies. Sigh.
I just realized I have hit my first anniversary of blogging. Yes, one year ago I started this thing. I went back thinking I might get inspiration from one of my earlier posts. I realized they sucked, too. Maybe it isn't writer's block. Maybe I'm just realizing I suck.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Jack was a family friend to be exact. My dad met him at work, I think. I was too young to know really how they met him, but ever since I could remember he was around. He was the kind of man every child needs as a friend. Once Jack invited my family to a friend's farm. The friend was a potato farmer, and had cultivated his potatoes but hadn't harvested them yet. The friend told Jack to come and get as many as he wanted. As a child of about 5 years of age going potato gathering was very exciting. I had my little bucket and started gathering. I found a huge potato, the biggest potato I had ever seen! I proudly showed Jack and he made me feel like I had found a piece of gold. He told me that potato could probably feed my whole family! Yes, every child needs a friend like Jack.
Everyone knew Jack.
I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania, and Jack lived there as well. Everyone in the town knew jack. If you walked downtown, everyone would smile and say "hello" to Jack. He was a friendly guy and always willing to lend a hand when he heard one was needed. He was the town snowplower and would always go the extra mile. He would often come down our street and pile the plowed snow in the field next to our house so my sister and I could sled ride down it.
Jack was generous.
I remember as a kid how he would always come on Sunday mornings and bring doughnuts. I will forever look at an apple fritter and think of Jack. Once when we were on vacation Jack took my broken, rusty little red wagon and refinished it. As we came home and drove in the driveway there it was, all shiny and new. He even took me for a ride in it!
Jack was silly.
Jack would tease the bejeebers out of my sister and me. I had a security blanket as a child and he would call me "Linus". He told me my ears would fall off if I didn't wash behind them, and if I kept playing with toads I would get warts. And to think I believed him! He would let us climb on him and sit on his feet while he walked never tiring of our play.
Jack was smart.
Jack taught my family how to make saurkraut, an important side dish in Pennsylvania. I remember him in our basement with my parents standing over an old whiskey barrel and using an antique cutter to cut the cabbage. Apparently beer was an ingredient in saurkraut, because he would always say "a swig for the cabbage and a swig for me".
Jack was an alcoholic.
He spent hours at the local bar, then drive home drunk. He once woke up the next morning to find a huge dent in the front of his truck. He panicked, not knowing what he had hit. He drove around looking for some evidence and found a tree on the way to his house that had damage that matched his truck. Phew! Just a tree.
Jack was mean.
He was known to get into fights at the bar when he was drunk. As a child I heard my parents talk about Jack's drinking, and not knowing what being drunk was like, I remember thinking he must have turned green and got muscular, kind of like the Incredible Hulk, and smashed chairs and things. Jack had a family but lost it due to his alcoholism.
Jack was lonely.
We moved to Texas when I was 10. We went back to visit a couple of times and visited Jack. He was off of work because of a work-related injury, and drunk pretty much all the time at that point. The townspeople no longer said "hello" to Jack, they avoided him and looked at him like he was a burdeon.
Jack died alone in his bathroom.
I remember the day I heard. I mourned my childhood friend, who really died many years before his true death. I will forever remember Jack as a part of my childhood.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
War is a bad thing. I don't like war. It scares me, and I often wonder if it hurts more than it helps. Unfortunatley, I feel as though there was no other way. Some species just don't deserve to walk the face of the earth, and we have to abolish them. Yes, I am a proponent of species clensing of fire ants.
I seem to attract the things. Perhaps in a former life I was a hot fire ant model who was very popular and all the other fire ants wanted to be like me. Yea, that's it. They're jealous.
Either way, I bought this property and I don't see them paying rent or sharing the house payment so I want them gone. I am ashamed to say, I have become the Little Fire Ant Hitler. I have declaired war even though I don't have the support of the French neighbors across the street. And even though the UN (united neighbors) voted against it I declaired war anyway. They weren't the ones terrorized on their legs by the bites.
As self declaired Commander in Chief of this war, and, since I am also the only person on this side, I had no other choice but to enforce a draft. I drafted my husband. He was promoted from Private to General in about 5 minutes since he was the only other person on this side.
As most Commander in Chiefs do, I made him do all the work. I armed him with the equivalent to the Tomahawk Missle in the Fire Ant War, Orthene Fire Ant Bait. It is a smart bait because it knows how to kill the queen. He put on his uniform (gardening gloves) and headed out to the battlefield (yard). We had our "shock and awe" mission yesterday. So far so good, but we're waiting for the counter attack.
Question: Is there anything in your life you'd like to declare war against?
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Things went well, as I said before. And thanks for your well wishes!
We woke up promptly at 4:30 a.m. because we had to be downtown at Texas Children's Hospital at 7:30 a.m. We checked in and went to the waiting area. Rachel slept, thank God. We were herded into one room where they weighed her (13 pounds 8 oz!) and took her blood pressure with a tiny little cuff. Then we were herded into another room where they took some blood from her. She was good the entire time. Then we were put into a waiting room where the people waiting for surgery are kept. The doctor comes into this room to talk to the parents before surgery. At this point I did an unscientific survey and realized 5 out of every 6 surgeries on children under 10 are due to foreign objects injected into various body orifices. The boy beside us put something up his nose (I tried to evesdrop to figure out what it was, but I missed it). The girl to the right of us swallowed a coin. There was a x-ray carried across the room that was clearly a chest with something stuck in the esophogus.
Luckily she was sleeping when I had to hand her over for surgery. If she was crying I don't think I could have handled it.
They brought us into recovery about an hour later. There she was, screaming her little head off, which I was unusually happy to hear. They told us we would be in recovery about an hour until they got our room ready. What they DIDN'T tell us is they meant an hour in football minutes, because we sat there for five hours.
We finally got to her room. Texas Children's hospital rocks. They have a day bed for parents in the room, cable TV, a room for each age group of children from 3-18 with age-appropriate toys, videos, etc. A clown that visits, videos to bring to the room, a family center with a refrigerator, free coffee and muffins in the morning.
The surgeons, well, they're good surgeons. Their bedside manner was, well, something else.
We were given a paste to put on her butt to numb it so the stitches didn't hurt so bad. However, she had an allergic reaction to it. So, the nurse gave us some skin drying paste and some vaseline. He said put the paste on first to dry the skin then the vaseline. It didn't have the numbing agent, but keeping the sutures on her anal opening dry would help.
Guess what? Paste + vaseline = glue. Yes, we glued my childs butt cheeks together. I had to soak her in the bathtub to loosen the "glue" to get them apart. Who said child rearing wasn't a science experiment? Come to think of it, maybe I should market the stuff to pay for her medical bills.
We came home Sat evening. With the exception of a little fussiness, as to be expected, she is doing great!
Question: Have you ever made an interesting discovery?
Monday, October 17, 2005
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Yes, at this precious moment, a stupid commerical jingle was running through my head. It happens a lot. In fact, there's one that hasn't aired in years that seems to surface quite often in my head for some silly reason..."Doxidan, Doxidan, when nature needs a helping hand, get overnight relief with Doxidan". I would say if their goal is product identification they had a successful advertising campaign, although maybe not so much as I've never purchased the stuff.
I can still repeat the McDonalds jingle from the 80's "Two all beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun.". Or how about "The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup!". Or more recently "I want my baby back, Chilies baby back ribs".
Nothing is worse than having a advertising jingle in your head. It is one thing for a company to have music during the commercial. Car commercials usually have great music. HP has some really good music with their commericals these days. The commercials where the person holds a frame in front of their face and the frame suddenly becomes a picture of them at that moment. I often find myself singing their songs (although I don't know the titles) hours after. I don't mind singing songs, but having an ad jingle in my head is downright irritating. Jingles are usually one line, so you are saying one line over and over again until you either buy a product or go insane. I don't think the companies care which one comes first.
Is there a particular jingle that you can't get out of your head?
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
I have decided to have a delurk day. Many of my blogging friends did this long ago. I thought then that they were silly. I mean, if someone was to come to this page they would post, right? If nothing else but to tell me how stupid I am? However, in the last few weeks I have learned a few tidbits about my friends and family.
First, people I THOUGHT were reading my blog and not bothering to comment were actually NOT reading my blog. My sister is a good example. Do you know what that means? That means I get to start talking about her. I can talk about all the stories when we were little and how mean she was. Like the time....oh, I'll save it for another post.
Then, I found out that people who I thought never or rarely read my blog actually read it on a daily or somewhat daily basis. My husband is this example. That means I have to be nice to him on here. Not that I'm generally not nice to him, because I generally don't have reason to be mean to him, but if I did have reason then I know he would read it. Actually, that could come in handy. How RUDE of him just to read and not comment. And I MARRIED him.
Anyway, it's officially delurk day. If you are reading this, post something. If you don't you will officially hurt my feelings. Yes, I'm that pathetic.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Fall is in the air (OK, not really. It's freakin' 95 here still. But for the sake of the story I'll pretend), the leaves are changing (I'm lying here, too), and the football season makes it way into the hearts of every Texan (This, however, is true).
There is a Texas Tradition that I didn't realize was a Texas thing. At least that's what my non-Texan friends tell me. The tradition is the homecoming mum during the High School homecoming football game. Please tell me we're not the only ones that have homecoming football games.
Anyway, this homecoming mum tradition. Basically, a guy asks a girl to the game (or vice-versa), and he buys her a mum. And you can tell how much a boy likes you by the size of the mum, and how gaudy you look in it. Here is an example (I couldn't find a picture of a mum that I could post, and, golly-gee darn I don't have a scanner to scan a picture of me in High School at homecoming, so that link will have to do. Speaking of which, where does everyone get their cool pictures for their blogs that aren't their own, anyway?).
The mum is about the size of a dinner plate. Sometimes, if the boy REALLY likes you, they will get TWO mums and put one in front and one in the back, going over the shoulder. Usually, however it is a single mum pinned on her chest, and has streamers that literally go to her knees or below. The streamers have kick-knacks on it that represent what the girl is into, such as a clarinet in my case because I played the clarinet, a little plastic volleyball, a whistle, a little teddy bear, or other trikets. Bells were essential, because otherwise how would your girlfriends know you were coming with a gaudy mum unless you had the noisemakers to go with them? The ribbons usually have stickers on them to say "Homecoming 2005" and another that says "Carol -n- Bryan" or something of that nature. Like I said, the gaudier the more the boy liked you, because the gaudier the more expensive.
Then, after the game, the high school girl would hang it in her room until she realized the tradition was both silly and gaudy, usually about the time she goes to college or she and the boy broke up, and then she would throw it out.
I never thought much about the tradition until I became an adult, pulled my very faded mum out of the remembrance box (AKA, the moth ridden, silverfish eaten cardboard box about to collape with a zillion pieces of tape on it up in the attic) and looked at it. And threw it away. I guess I'm a late bloomer.
What traditions do you have that you realized were silly once you thought about it?
Saturday, October 01, 2005
I've been putting off blogging hoping for something to blog about that's a little more light hearted or fun. I mean, after a hard pregnancy, a baby in NICU for 11 days, acid reflux, and hurricanes I figured this blog needed it. But, alas, I have nothing. Instead, I will talk about the fact that Rachel needs surgery, because that's about all on my mind these days.
We went to the doctor because of crying that didn't seem to cease. Her tummy was bloated like a balloon, and very firm. It took the doctor little time to find the problem.
Poor little bugger has Anal Stenosis. If you google it, like I did, you will find out it is an unusual tightness in the anal sphincter. That means she can't pass gas or poop easily. Yes, my daughter is literally anal retentive. I knew she took after her daddy.
Treatment is usually the instertion of dialators "and in rare cases surgery". Of course, keeping with our theme of the year of bad luck, we are in the "rare case" category. She was so tight they couldn't even do a normal exam on her.
What's frustrating is she was diagnosed with this almost three weeks ago. They told me they would call to schedule the surgery in 5-7 days, maybe sooner because the doctor knew she was in pain every time she had gas or had to poop, so he requested the surgery be scheduled "ASAP".
Then, the hurricane came and everything in the Houston area came to a screeching halt. AND, to make matters worse, people from New Orleans have been transported to Houston hospitals, which have made the beds limited (not that they don't deserve good care, too, but you know what I mean). So, not only are people who HAD surgeries scheduled rescheduled, but the ones that didn't have them scheduled yet (us) were put off for a freakin TWO WEEKS.
So, here is Rachel, in pain most days until she has her poop. And working for hours pushing to poop. I'm talking sometimes 10 hours of grunting. And there's nothing I can do but call the freakin' pediatric surgeons office every day to beg them to schedule it. Finally yesterday they did. So, we get to have surgery on her butt in two weeks, on October 14th.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Monday, September 26, 2005
Anyway, just wanted to let you know we made it out, and our house had no damage. The power was out for about 23 hours, but that's all. It was good for us that we were on the west side, not that I wish it on anyone else. Thank God Rita was no Katrina.
It took us a freakin' 12 hours to go 165 miles, though. That's an average of 14 mph! It was CRAZY. Rachel did well the first 10. The last 2 hours she screamed her head off. :) I would, too, if I was stuck in that seat for so long.
It seemed everyone was leaving Houston. We would go only about 6 miles in 3 hours at some spots. And of course a lot of the time there are no bathrooms for several miles, so people were having to go to the bathroom on the side of the road trying to shield themselves with their car door. They were also running out of gas and there was NO GAS ANYWHERE. All the stations were out, and a lot of gas stations were running out of food. Grocery stores were running out, too. It was crazy.
I'm still glad we left, because we're having record heat here. 108 degrees today! Hottest day in 5 years. So, if I was in a house with no air conditioning it would have been very uncomfortable. And Rachel I'm sure would have been uncomfortable.
Anyway, I'm waiting until Wednesday to go back. Hopefully I'll make it back in the normal 2.5 hours instead of 12 again.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
We're on the North side of Houston, so it isn't like we're on the coast, but we are at risk of losing electricity, extremely high winds, and possibly no water. And of course lots of rain. Being I have a newborn I didn't want to get stuck for who knows how long and not have necessities. So, we're headed to the in-laws in Waco, which is about 200 miles or so.
I'll check in when we come back!
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
I was sitting on the sofa the other day, Rachel's head in my lap and her butt on the sofa. Casey, my little mutt, usually sits to the right of me on the sofa, where Rachels legs were. Casey jumped on the sofa, sniffs Rachel's legs and starts to take her nose and flick her blanket on her legs. She must have spent a full 5 minutes trying to cover her, and actually successfully did. It was rather interesting to watch. Since I took Animal Behavior in college and never really used it, I figured I'd humor myself by saying I'm using it here and she's now becoming "motherly".
So I figure (I'm into multiple choice these days):
A) My animal behavior class was worth the money and I accurately protrayed Casey as mothering Rachel because in the wild the Alpha dog has all the puppies and the other members of the pack help her raise them.
B) Her diaper was dirty and Casey didn't want to smell it anymore so she was trying to bury it.
C) She is actually in a jealous rage and was trying to smother her.
I prefer to think "A".
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
A) Tell him so he can decide if he wants a new one
B) Not tell him figuring you've shared a lot worse that THAT and he won't miss anything if he is none the wiser
c) Write it on your blog in the off chance that he might actually read it, which he rarely does, but by then it will have been too late because he will have brushed his teeth with it. So that will probably make him keep it.
Oh, decisions, decisions.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Now that I've qualified what I'm about to say (hi, honey!), I'll tell you about my husband and his beginner daddyness. He has never, ever been around a baby before ours. I've already mentioned the backward diaper. I actually managed not to laugh hysterically when I realized it was on backward. Oh, it's not that I didn't want to, but I could tell he felt a little stupid. I couldn't rub it in. Honestly, I can tell he feels really bad that he isn't more experienced at this. He admits the learning curve is great here.
The other day on a Saturday he was up just a bit before me. Rachel sleeps in her cradle beside our bed. He walked into the bedroom as we both were just waking. Her diaper needed to be changed because she just woke up, so I asked him to do it. After all, he needs the experience. He gladly said he would. He took her into her room, which is across the hall from ours. I laid in bed trying to wake up.
I heard: Rustle, Rustle, Rustle....Then I hear Bryan say: "Oh, crap!"....then more Rustling....
I think..."should I go in to see what's going on?" Then I think "No, he needs to learn. One of these days I'll be leaving her alone with him. He'll figure it out".
Then I hear "Oh, geez!"...rustle....drawers being pulled out.....rustle....
I start to put one foot on the floor then stop myself. "No, he is a capable man. He can figure it out" I think.
After what seems like eternity he comes into the bedroom smiling, with Rachel in a new outfit, and says to Rachel "Here's mommy Rachel!" and tells me she is ready to eat.
I take her and realize her head is wet. Her HEAD is wet? What the.....
I ask "Uh, dear? Why is her head wet?"
He Says "Well, she started to pee when I took her diaper off and I tried to keep her out of it, but it wasn't easy to move her as she was peeing, so she got a little on her. That's why I changed her outfit."
Uh, OK. I opened my mouth to ask how the pee managed to get on her HEAD, but thought better of it. I decided I didn't want to know. I got up and drew her bath water.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
They probably think I'm bad, but they should see her father. When he changed her diaper the first time he put it on BACKWARDS. (I'm not kidding). I'm happy to say he is getting the hang of it now, though.
Rachel had acid reflux really bad. The pediatritian gave her Zantac in liquid form, which didn't work at all. Finally, after about 10 days I called the nurse (who knows my voice now, btw) because I couldn't stand to see her in pain anymore. They changed her medicine to Prevacid, which is working wonders. (Thank GOD!)
The only problem...Prevacid is not in liquid form, only capsule. So, I was faced with the task of getting a capsule down a 5 week old baby. This is not an easy task. And to make matters worse those pills are EXPENSIVE. So, if I lost some it would cost me.
She is supposed to get half a capsule, so I opened it and spilled the tiny beads from inside the capsule on aluminum foil. I thought I would put it on the foil and separate it into two separate but equal piles with a knife. You can tell I'm not a drug dealer/user simply by the fact I wasn't smart enough to realize that when aluminum foil has little beady things on it and you scrape a knife on it, it krinkles and the beads go shooting across the room. Ok, lost a few beads there.
Plan two. I've seen enough TV to know how the drug users do it. I needed a razorblade and something that doesn't krinkle and shoot things across the room. I opted for the cupboard instead of the foil, and I didn't have a razor so I went for a sharp knife. Getting the beads on the counter was fun. Beads roll. I think I probably should have learned that in Kindergarten. I must have been absent that day. I lost a few beads here, too.
Then once I lassoed them back in a pile and separated them into two piles I had to get them into a container. I didn't think about that before the counter idea. I held a little plastic cup at the end of the counter and brushed them in. One cup for each pile. I lost a few on the floor.
OK, now how do I get them into the baby's mouth? A syringe with milk sounds logical. Except the beads didn't want to suck into the syringe very well. I managed to get them sucked in and milk, too. I went to squirt it in her mouth. The beads stuck to the bottom of the plunger. The milk went nicely into the baby's mouth. Sigh. I lost all of the beads.
OK, so that didn't work. On to another dose. How about I stick a few of the beads to my breast and shove it in her mouth for breastfeeding. Ingenious you say? Well, I thought so. Until I realized that Prevacid beads stick to boobs better than they stick to tounges. When she unlatched they were still there, firmly attached to my breast.
I scraped them off my breast and put them back into the container, which wasn't an easy task because, as we learned, wet Prevacid beads stick to everything. Babies chins, fingers, clothing, the chair.
Finally, a revelation. If it sticks to everything, it must stick to fingers! I pressed my finger in the pile of beads and, wallah! They stuck. I waited for her to open her mouth (She'll probably get smart and never yawn again), stuck my finger in there, wiped it on her tounge, and they stayed! Then, I put my breast in for her to drink. Obviously I'm not a fast learner. THey stuck to my breast. I scraped them off again.
We repeated the process, this time with a BOTTLE of breastmilk, and, luckily, Prevacid beads do not stick to plastic nipples, only real ones. She would drool a bit and I had to scrape them off her cheek, folds of her neck, her shirt, and put them back in, but I think I got most of them.
Lucky us, we get to do this every night.
Monday, September 05, 2005
My new boss is only 10 pounds, yet she is full of demands. I came into this job with no training, not even a manual. She didn't bother to train me, yet she expects me to know everything. She has very demanding deadlines, and if I do not meet the deadline she screams at me. Loudly. And she doesn't care who she is around when she does it. I can only take bathroom breaks when it is convenient for HER schedule. Often there are days where I can't even take care of the simplest in personal hygene for myself because of her demands. She insists I work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and won't allow me any time for anything else. Often there are days I'm working so hard I don't even stop to eat! And to think I signed a lifetime contract for this job!
Why do I do it? I'm addicted to the bonuses!
P.S. Thanks for all the votes on which was the better picture. I liked the smiley one above, but Bryan liked the one with her eyes open. Your votes allowed me to have the one I wanted on the announcements! :)
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Living in Houston we are seeing a lot of the evacuees. Among many other things, our church is providing shelter and food for some, and we are volunteering shifts to serve food to those in the Astrodome as well. Because of this we get to hear stories up close and personal. Each person has a story, and there are thousands of stories, and each story is gut wrenching.
I went for my followup doctors visit a couple of days ago and a woman was there who was about to give birth. She had just evacuated and was sure she didn't have a home to go to. I guess that particular story hit home with me, having a newborn myself. I can't imagine giving birth and dealing with those stresses, and also not knowing how you are going to provide a home for the little one.
I am sickened by the looters who are taking big screen TV's (saw one right on TV like he didn't care who saw him), GUNS, computers, and other non-essentials. People are STARVING and these idiots are trying to make out on this disaster. Disgusting.
Also, perhaps we should spend less time ranting about how things aren't being done fast enough, good enough, and more time actually doing things. If each person who has ranted spent that time instead putting together a health kit or flood bucket it would go a lot farther. We need positive energy here.
Please do what you can for these people. And please pray. I know you already are.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Sometimes I think this is the story of my life.
Monday, August 22, 2005
My sister's boss is hilarious. He is married and has a three year old son. He told his three year old to go up to mommy and tell her "I see dead people". And the son did. And his wife screamed.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
This is incredibly sad to me. I can't imagine feeling this way. It makes me think and ponder my own life, too, and appreciate the blessings I've been given. If I died today would I think I had a good life? You betcha. I had a great career, I've traveled what I consider a lot, more importantly I've taken opportunities to help others, and most importantly I have a husband and a daughter for which I would give up anything. I've had a few rough patches in my life. Without getting into details, my pre-teen and teenage years weren't the greatest. There were some ugly things I've had to deal with. And, I always had to work hard for everything I've gotten. But I think those things just make you stronger - if you let them.
I completely believe life is what you make it. Yes, life can hand you lemons. But, it is your responsiblility to make lemonade. I know some people get more lemons than others. But I also believe God only gives you what he thinks you can handle. Your true character shows in how you handle it.
I will admit this...I've been mad at God before. I've blamed Him for things. When I was a teenager I thought God just didn't care about me. That I was just "here". No one cared about me but ME. When we went through 5 years of infertility issues I wanted God to tell me why he was "punishing" me. But you know what? I now know he wasn't punishing me at all. It was all in His time. And I also know he was there helping me through the teenage years. I just didn't know it THEN.
I hope Angie's aquaintance finds healing before it is too late.
Anyway, technology is great when you have a baby, too. We got a video camera a year ago and the other night hubby figured out how to transfer the videos onto the internet and burn them to a DVD. Big deal, you say? For the technologically challenged we thought we were geniouses. Of course, we won't tell anyone that it took 4 hours to figure out how to do it.
Technology is bad, though, in some hands. When we had Rachel we had her in a hospital at the Medical Center in Houston. The Medical Center is in downtown Houston and is not in the best part of town. In fact, my uncle was visiting someone at MD Anderson Cancer Center and got held up at gunpoint as he was getting his suitcase out of the trunk of his car. My parents are rather naive folk. They get nervous when they drive in town. Not necessarily the bad part of town, they just don't drive in the city much. They're more of a suburb or small town type.
So, you're asking what this has to do with technology being bad? Well, as I was saying, when Rachel was born the hospital was in downtown Houston. My folks came to the hospital so they could be there when she was born. It was a long day for everyone and they left the hospital at about 10 p.m. Not knowing downtown that well, and getting a bit turned around, they made a wrong turn and actually ened up on a street they weren't supposed to be on. And, to top it off the street was under construction, so they ened up in a traffic jam. AND, to top THAT off, the were behind an SUV. The SUV had one of those DVD player thingies. Have you ever been behind one of those in traffic? You can watch whatever they are watching. Usually it is a disney flick or something of the "G" rating. However, my naive parents weren't that lucky. They got behind an SUV that had a DVD of porn.
So, here they are, stuck in a traffic jam in the middle of downtown Houston, at 10 p.m. and they are behind an SUV that is playing porn. And it is right in front of them and they can't move either way. Dad said he had an "educational experience" and had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road.
They laughed about it forever, but I keep thinking how awkward that would be if you weren't with the right person. My luck I'd get stuck behind a vehicle playing porn when I had my boss in the car with me or something.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Just for the awe factor here is another picture...I couldn't help it.
Things I've learned in the 9 day's I've been responsible for this tiny little precious thing:
1. An 8 pound human being makes 7 times more laundry than the average human being
2. A smile never gets old
3. Two AM looks very differently when you are awakened from sleeping instead of just going to bed. So is Three AM and Four AM.
4. An 8 pound human being can poop their own body weight in a day (or so it seems).
5. The lung capacity of an 8 pound human being while crying is equivalent to a wild elephant.
Oh, lets see...what will the next week bring??
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Ahh, the birth story. Men, children and squeemish women, you can just ooh and ahh at the picture and go now. It's not for the weak stomached individual.
Seriously, my labor went well. That's about all in the pregnancy that went well, it seemed. And DURING the labor I would have told you otherwise.
At my 35 week ultrasound that they did because of the gestational diabetes, they determined that my amniotic fluid was a little borderline low. That was weird because a side effect of the diabetes is HIGH amniotic fluid, but they told me to take it easy and drink plenty of fluids and they would monitor it. No problem. So, the following week, at 36 weeks, I went in for my regular checkup. She did another ultrasound to monitor the fluid levels, and lo and behold it was dangerously low at that point. The doctor was perplexed because of the aforementioned diabetes reason, but she said the baby needs to come out immediately, that it was no longer a safe environment for her. She told me she would do an "emergency" induction the next day.
I learned that "emergency" meant if not so many people went into spontaneous labor that they could fit me in they would induce me the next day. If not, then the following day. If not then definitely the following. So, I had to call that night to see if they had room for me. 5pm, no they don't have room. 7 pm no room at the inn. 9 pm, not even a manger. 10:30 pm, c'mon in! So, we zoomed down to the hospital, which was about 45 minutes away.
They put the medicine in my cervix to make me dialate, as I hadn't budged yet. Oh, what is that stuff called? Anyway, Bryan slept on the sofa and I slept on the very uncomfortable labor bed. I say "slept". Who the hell can sleep when they know they will be giving birth in a few hours? I should have taken the sleeping pill they offered, but I hate medicine. So, I was on about two hours sleep the next day.
I had only dialated 1 cm when they gave me the IV for the induction at 7 am. The morning went well. I thought "Hey! This is a piece of cake!" No medication. I was fine. Cramping, but, hey, I could handle it! What are these wimpy women whining about?
THEN AT 12:30PM THEY BROKE MY WATER.
Owch. That's all I have to say. I had only dialated 2 cm at that point, so I couldn't get the epidural. I had mentioned I would "see how it went" in the pain department on arrival at the hospital when asked if I would like an epidural. However, after the contractions were ripping my intestines out (or so I thought) I decided needles weren't so bad. But then the hosptial staff taunted me by saying I couldn't have one because the doctor wouldn't let me have it until I was 3 cm.
What's worse is the doctor wouldn't let the nurse check my cervix until 3 pm. She said she didn't want to risk infection. At 3 pm I was only a freakin' (not the word I was thinking in my head at the time) 2.5 cm dialated. I was begging for drugs. They said no. My husband and the nurse started chatting about what was on TV and politics and religion and many other things I didn't care about at that time. In my own little pain induced world I was strangling them. But all I could muster out was a "I'm fine. Are you SURE you can't just take a peek at my cervix?" when asked.
When the nurse told the doctor I had only dialated 2.5 cm at 3pm, she told her she couldn't check me again until 6 freakin' PM. At 4:30 I begged. I mean BEGGED the nurse to check. She said she would. If I was dialated more we would let the doctor know. If I wasn't, it would be our little secret. That was a deal I would have sold my own mother for.
At 4:30 was dialated to 5 cm. She called the doctor. The doctor said we could do the epidural. YAY! Relief on the way! What seemed like eternity and several short and incomprehensable to anyone but me comments to my husband later, which turned out to be about 30 minutes, the epidural came. By 5:15 I had it. But it did nothing. I still felt pain. I asked the nurse if I was supposed to feel pain still. She said no. I said I did. She called the anesthesiologist back. He came at 5:45 PM and increased the medicine. Ahhhh. All was better. I got my wits about me again. I felt like I could think, like I could actually enjoy the moment.
Just after the increased dosage at 5:45 the nurse checked my cervix. 9 cm! At 6 pm she had me push. All I saw was a huge flood of blood squirt right for the nurse. She said "Hold on! Don't Push!" She called for the doctor, who was there by 6:15 PM. Rachel was out just a few pushes later at 6:31 PM.
I think I should get credit for having her naturally since I only got 45 minutes of pain releif. LOL. But I'm thankful that I only pushed for 30 minutes. The doctor told me I better not tell my girlfriends that I only pushed that long or they'll hate me. I'll risk it.
I got to hold Rachel for about 30 mintues when she was first born. Then, she turned blue, and the rest you've been reading the last couple of weeks.
Now that I'm home I can't believe she is mine. I know I went through the labor, but God actually entrusted me with this fragile thing? He has to be crazy! :)
Breastfeeding (men, turn away if you don't want to recognize the functionality of breasts. It does kind of ruin it.) is a challenge because she was spoiled with a lazy bottle at the NICU. I have a feeling I'm going to have a lot of sweat and tears before we get that down, but I'm determined. She latches, but her jaw gets tired. We're working on it. Meanwhile I'm pumping, and bottle supplementing, too.
Anyway, that's the whole ugly story in a nutshell. Ugly story, but isn't she THE MOST beautiful thing you've ever seen??? :)
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Now, it is time to figure this baby thing out. I thought this kid would come with an owner's manual! :)
Just wanted to quickly post to let everyone know. As soon as things settle down I'll visit your blogs, post pictures, the birth story, and then (since you are probably tired of hearing all this baby stuff!) on to your regularly scheduled blog.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Thank you everyone for your thoughts and prayers. It means so much to me I can't even express.
Just home enough to sleep a little and wash clothes. Rachel was put into the intensive care Neonatal ICU because of her breathing. It turns out to be undeveloped lungs...her surfactants are not developed enough to keep her lungs open. They had to increase her oxygen to 80% at one point but she is back down to 50% now. They had to intebate and sedate her because her little body was so tired from working so hard to breathe.
We are holding up. It was so hard to leave the hospital today without her. I need sleep badly though, so we came home for a little bit. They will probably have her until at least early to mid next week, we are hoping only until then. They said the next 48 hours are the most critical time, and that usually they turn around after 72 hours.
She is in the BEST of care. We are blessed with these doctors (she has a team of three neonatal doctors). They are constantly assuring us that she'll make it OK and are great about asking how we are doing/handling it.
When she is home in my arms I'll tell all about the birth!
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Anyway, I'm getting admitted to the hospital tonight. They need to soften my cervix because I haven't even started dialating yet.
Nor have I packed bags, or gotten the car seat, or washed her clothes. Thank God my mother-in-law and mother will be here. Although they don't like eachother, but I'll let them duke it out over who gets to do what. Hopefully they'll play nice this once.
Anyway, I'm a little worried about the baby. She is FINE as of now, but I've been told it's touch and go until they get her out of me, and the mere act of inducing when she's not ready could cause complications. The doc said be prepared just in case a c-secion is necessary.
So, pray for Rachel if you do that sort of thing. Or think good thoughts or send good energy. I'll take it all.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
The good news is her chest and waist were fine. And also great news they said her organs appeared healthy! However she was rather large at this point...6 lbs. 12 oz. and in the 88th percentile (although the ultrasound can be as much as 10% off). This doesn't surprise me considering her mom is 5'11" and her dad is 6'6". She doesn't stand a chance at having any sort of normal size. Poor kid. She's going to hate us when she turns about 12 for sure.
It's amazing to see the ultrasound and peek at her. I could see her suckling with her lips, her eyes open and close, her little fingers (all five were there on the hand I could see!), and she already has HAIR! It wasn't as clear as the 20 week ultrasound. Mostly because she is so big now that you can only see a fraction of her at once instead of an entire profile.
The bad news is my amniotic fluid was borderline low. Which means the doctor wants me to rest more. She said cut out any unnecessary activities. Crap. It just kills me to sit around. I am rather type-A and want everything perfect around the house before the baby comes. I should have taken the advice from Cesca and Amiz a month ago and made the frozen meals ahead then. Well, I can look on the bright side...more time for visiting blogs!
On a sadder note...go visit Elle's blog and say a prayer for them. Her son, Jay, is very sick and needs good thoughts and prayers.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Sometimes, however, if someone is home-bound for a long time and Bryan visits them frequently they'll ask to meet me. After all, he talks about me and they ask about me when he's there.
One such time was just before we left the tiny East Texas town we moved from in May/June. He had been visiting an elderly woman named Helen for two years and she requested he bring me along on his last visit before we moved. So, I went.
We got to the house and her husband walked out with a smile on his face. He greeted us, shooed the dog away, and invited us in. We walked into their modest yet comfortable home nestled in the woods next to a beautiful pond. The living area had large picture windows that permitted you to enjoy the outdoors while in the comfort of the A/C. Across from the living room was a large bedroom with a long hallway to the bathroom. On the other side was the modest kitchen and a small bedroom they used for an office. You could tell they were proud of the modest yet comfortable home they had built together.
We came in and Helen was sitting in her chair. Helen had been battling cancer for 6 years. Yes, six years. She had undergone every cancer treatment, conventional and unconventional, and was still hanging in there, although very frail and weak. She was in pain much of the six years she was battling this thing.
We chatted about the weather, about their children and grandchildren, about our coming arrival, about the church. Then Helen's husband suggested she take me into the bedroom to show me the pictures of her children and grandchildren of which she was so proud.
Helen got into her wheelchair with the help of her husband and I wheeled her in there. She had such pride, but also such sadness as she showed me each picture and gave me the life story of each of them.
When we got up to leave Helen couldn't control herself any longer. She started to cry. She knew that Bryan was moving and that she would never see him again. That the end is near for her. Although her husband is staying strong and has not told her the latest doctors report, that there's nothing left, conventional or unconventional, to do for her cancer, she knew. She couldn't help but know.
When we left Bryan told me the reason her husband suggested I take her to see the pictures in the other room was so he could discuss funeral arrangements without her hearing, and the possibility of Bryan coming back to do the funeral.
On the drive home I couldn't help but think about the stories they told, the life they built together, the warmth they had for others, the children and grandchildren they were proud of, the 52nd anniversary they just celebrated, the love he so strongly still had for his wife after all of these years. And, how they were about to lose eachother. I choked back the tears. I said to Bryan "How do you deal with things like this day after day?" He simply said "I've been doing it a long time". (He was in the mental health/mental retardation field before becoming a minister, which had it's own unique sadnesses).
I will never take for granted the phrase "I'm going visiting" again.
Monday, July 18, 2005
They seem to think I'm a "trusted relative". I'm not sure why. About 7 years ago they lived in West Virginia and opened a safety deposit box there. Not that they have a lot worth putting in a safety deposit box. I don't think they're too worried about me getting anxious for my inheritance and killing them off or anything. I think mostly their wills and a few other things are in there. Hmm, come to think of it...maybe I should visit the safety deposit box just to be sure! (kidding!)
Anyway, since I'm supposed to be the "responsible" daughter (side note...not that my sister is "irrisponsible", but I've been more stable than her until now as far as my personal life. You know, married 12 years and that sort of stability. When they made out their wills even though she is the older one, they named me executor because she wanted no part of it.) they thought I would be the most logical "trusted relative". So, they gave me the key back when they lived in West Virginia, too. And I put it in my file cabinet. What other logical place would it go? Even though it was small, I thought it would be safe in the "Legal documents, marriage certificates, etc." hanging file.
Except I wasn't smart enough to realize that hanging files have slits in the side.
When they moved from West Virginia and closed the safety deposit box they needed the key back. No Problem! I went to the file cabinet and opened it to the "legal documents" file right where I left it. But it wasn't there. So, I spent 2 hours ripping every file apart and turning the file cabinet upside down. I never found it.
Then I was left with the task of telling my parents I couldn't find it. I offered to pay the $50 replacement fee, but they refused. They said it was anyone's mistake and not to worry about it. I even gave them the pouty lip and puppy dog eyes so they would let me pay and clear my conscience. I guess they wanted me to take it to my grave because they still refused and paid it themselves.
So, they are now full-time RVers. They changed to a bank that had branches all over the US. Much against their better judgement they gave me the key for their new box. We all had a nice laugh when they handed it to me. My dad gave me a stern "don't lose it this time" and laughed. I said "OH, I won't. Believe me". I taped it to the side of the desk. I figured the desk wasn't going anywhere, there's no way I could lose it. Right?
So, fast forward a year to last May. We moved. Remember the desk? We decided it was too bad of shape to make the move so we put it in the burn pile. Did I even THINK about the key? Noooooooooooo!
But WAIT! There's More!
After we loaded all of our stuff and were headed down to Houston for the last time, Bryan pulls out a key from his pocket. He says "Do you know what this is? It was just laying on the floor in the spare bedroom we used for an office". Lo, and behold...it was a SAFETY DEPOSIT KEY!
I breathed a sigh of relief! What a close call! RIGHT?
But WAIT! There's More!
I was up at the wee hours this morning because of a case of insomnia. The key was sitting TAPED to the file cabinet. And something possessed me to look at it. And I realized it said "Blah blah Bank, WEST VIRGINIA"
HOLY CRAP! IT'S THE OLD KEY, NOT THE NEW ONE!
So, now I get to go sheepishly back to the folks like I did as a teeneager telling them I did something wrong. I have to tell them I lost the key. Again. Maybe I should say "But the good news is I found the other one I lost!" Yea, that will go over well, now that they spent the $50. About as well as saying "But the good news is I saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico!"
I'm pretty sure I'll lose the "trusted relative" status after this one. I might even be grounded.
Holy crap. I just looked at my baby calculator and it says I have 35 days left. Which really means I probably have more like 28 days left, because the doctor has already said due to the gestational diabetes she wasn't comfortable letting me go further than 39 weeks. So, I'm most likely going to be induced if she doesn't decide to come before then.
HOLY CRAP! It just sunk in. I better get busy. We don't even have the stuff we need yet. I think I better get a few diapers on hand. That might be a teency weency bit necessary when we get home from the hospital. Oh, and probably a list of a billion other things, starting with a CAR SEAT. Yes, they won't let me take her home without that.
HOLY CRAP! In less than a month I'm going to be a MOMMY. Lord, help us all.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
The other day I was in the shower and looked at the shampoo bottle. The word is made up of "Sham" and "poo". Neither words are good and neither of them would I like touching my hair. It's a "Sham" meaning it's fake. AND it's "poo". Who wants poo on their hair? How did that become the word for the stuff you clean your hair with?
Then I was watching TV and a carpet commercial came on. CAR PET. It has nothing to do with a car OR a pet. Except if your pet messes on your carpet enough he may end up in the car going someplace far, far away.
Can you think of any others?
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Then it starts going to your head. You know, that the world DOES revolve around you. I have mentioned before that I'm having a horrible time with feet swelling. To the point that none of my shoes fit. And, unfortunately, this 5'11" frame wears a size 11 shoe. So, it isn't exactly EASY to just go out and get a size 12.
The other day I couldn't fit into my shoes anymore, so Hubby and I went to the shoe store, with my unbuckled sandals, hoping to find some new ones. As I walk into the store three customers and a clerk practically in unison say "OH, look at her poor swollen feet!" "OK," I think, "They are really in tune with feet here, being it's a SHOE store. I'm not THAT freaky". I say something lame like "Yea" and go off to find the shoes. They don't carry 12's. They barely carry 11's.
So, off to another store..same thing. And another, same thing.
So, I'm feeling large, and the shoe stores are rubbing it in that I AM large. I studdenly started BAWLING (In the car, not in the store, thank God). Which is completely unlike me.
Hubby at first said "What's wrong?". OK, how do you explain that you are bawling because you can't wear shoes and you feel HUGE and like a freak? Especially when the reasons are for such precious ones like you have a BABY COOKING in there? What a stupid reason to cry. But, being the world revolves around ME now, it seemed logical at the time.
I just shook my head. Bryan was smart enough to let it go and leave me alone until I gathered my exposure. And then we moved on like nothing happened.
Monday, July 11, 2005
And, much to my husbands dismay, I also felt like he should go with me.
So, last week we were off to class. I think 5 times on the way down there I heard "I hope other men are there". Walking into the building he said "If there aren't any other men in there I'm leaving". And, of course, we walk in about 15 minutes early and the only people that are there are two women. My hubby sat down but started biting his nails nervously. Finally, other men started coming in and I could see the relief on his face. As the first one came in I thought he was going to jump up and hug him. He's such a trooper.
Anyway, the class was quite good. I learned a lot. I think it will help tremendously. I started pondering the whole breastfeeding thing after the class. I mean, it's amazing how God put us all together.
It's actually amazing that anyone ever is born. Think about it. First the sperm has to swim, and the egg has to get released, find it's way down the tube, the sperm and the egg have to find eachother, connect, then the sperm has to put a "no vacancy" sign out on the egg so no other sperm think they have a shot. Then the cells have to divide. And one cell says "Hey! I'll be an eyeball!" and another cell says "OK, I'll be the blood vessels", etc. etc. The woman's body does its hormone thing which triggers all these other responses, and the placenta is formed, etc. etc. And this all JUST HAPPENS.
Then, once the baby is out the woman's body JUST KNOWS to start producing milk. Or colostrum at first, which is what the baby needs the first few days then around day 4 it produces milk. And if you don't breastfeed? It just stops producing it. Amazing.
Not that you needed this babymaking lesson, but have you ever really thought about it?? How God just has made nature do it's thing? I mean, how this works is much more amazing than how a car or a TV or a computer or any man made thing works. This has been working for thousands of years with nothing to plug in. Well, except for the occassional piece of pizza.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
What, might you ask, sparked such a philosophical thought at 1 a.m.? My new neighbors, who I call "the kids next door" had a party. These "kids" as I call them look like they are 15. She decided to wash her car in a thong bikini the other day, and her body didn't look much older than 15, either. But they can't be because they are #1 married and #2 homeowners. I am guessing they can't be more than 22, though. If they are then life has been really good to them.
So, back to last night. As they were setting off 4th of July fireworks (which is actually illegal this year here because of the severe drought) and drinking, smoking, and talking loudly, I found myself not longing to be invited like I once would have been, but instead irritated that they wouldn't be quiet so I could get some sleep. And after all, my husband had to work the next day.
Then it hit me. I'm old. How did that happen, anyway?
What age (if you are there yet!) did you realize you've gotten "old"?
Sunday, July 03, 2005
I need ribbon for the baby's room. I need to go to Home Depot. I'll wait until Monday when they are open past dark.
The point I am making here is, I've learned that if you do not leave the house you tend to not have a lot to blog about. In fact, you don't have much to think about, either. Just four months ago I had a career and was busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. Now, I sit. And put my feet up. And blog. And make dinner. And cook, and clean. I feel my mind slowly, slowly turning to mush. I used to close half a million dollar deals, now I get upset when I can't find the pickles in the grocery store. I used to have lunch with VIP's, now I sit like a puppy by the window waiting for my husband to come home for lunch. I used to advise people on important research, now I consult Helouise for advice.
I'm not saying SAHM's don't think. Well, and the fact of the matter is I don't have the "M" part yet, I'm just a SAH nothing until the baby comes. I'm sure once she's here I'll be as busy as heck. What I am saying is if I don't get some stimulation soon then my brain is going to turn to mush and I'm going to have to keep the drool rags around for me and not the baby.
Anybody know any good books?
Friday, July 01, 2005
The first trimester things were new. I was nauseous, but I was so in awe that I was having a baby I didn't care. And the more nauseous I felt the more I knew things were going OK. So, that wasn't bad.
Then the second trimester. The second trimester I felt fine. No more nausea, the baby wasn't too big yet so I could move around fine, the maternity clothes were new and fun to wear still, people started asking "when are you due" which was neat, and best of all I could start to feel the baby move and marvel in the wonder of that. I would sit for an hour just feeling her move and smiling.
Then came the third trimester. Ah, yes, the third trimester. When people asked when I was due during the first and second trimesters and I would say "August 22nd", they would often give me a look and pat me like I was someone who just announced I lost my pet. One old lady even said "Oh, honey, you just wait. Pregnant in August in Texas" and she shook her head. I thought "OH, these silly people. It's not going to be that bad".
Well, I was wrong. The heat is miserable. I went to the store the other day and had to park halfway down the parking lot. By the time I got into the store sweat poured from my brow, my armpits, my back, and other places you would probably not care for me to mention.
Then my feet started to swell. When I say my feet are swelling, I mean they are HUGE. I look like I have a flesh-colored cast on my foot. The swelling is so bad that I can't wiggle my toes, and I have to wear my husband's shoes. I put my feet up whenever I can, I walk to increase circulation, drink plenty of water, read all the books and did what they said, but alas, nothing has helped.
Then came the tiredness. The excessive tiredness. Many people said it's a part of it. I got my blood panel done at the doctors though, and I had low iron and gestational diabetes. Low iron, no problem. Just take iron supplements. The gestational diabetes, however, is another story. I took the class from the dietician and was told exactly what and when to eat. I have to eat every 2 to 3 hours, and have a strict list of how many starches, protein, veggies, fat, milk and fruit and when I can eat them. I have been eating EXACTLY what I'm supposed to. I mean, not a crumb more, and have been exercising daily. My levels (especially my fasting levels which there's NOTHING I can do about) are still high. So, I get to go on insulin.
And have I mentioned the achy back and the restless nights?
So, back to my talk with Rachel. I told her that if she came just two weeks early (no earlier than that because then I'd be sick with worry that she was TOO early) then I would buy her a car. Someday. Shhh, don't tell her dad.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Bryan has given me mini-rose bushes before thinking they would last longer than roses. You could almost hear the things squeal the minute he handed them to me. Maybe I have Halitosis or something, but I just breathe on the things and they start to shrivel. Geez. How rude.
When we moved into the parsonage in the middle of nowhere East Texas, someone came to the house to welcome us with...you guessed it...a mini rose bush. I was determined to keep this thing alive. I read books and the internet on the subject, I repotted the sucker into the type of soil it was supposed to like, I pulled off the dead blooms, I read it bedtime stories, I did a Native American growth dance, and I even let it sit in a little lounge chair while I sat with glasses perched on the end of my nose and a little pad and pencil and listened to it's problems. It died on me anyway.
Our first day at the new church they had a welcome reception for us. They had a nice spread of cookies, nuts and punch. Donning the table was a centerpiece with a MINI ROSE BUSH in the middle. And the sweet little grey haired lady serving the punch said "the rose bush is for you to take home when this is over". I think she could see the immediate fear in my eyes as she stepped back a little. I thought about begging her not to do that to the poor little rose bush, but I figured that would be in poor taste.
After it was over and I walked toward my husband with rose bush in hand, his eyes got very large. He said "Is that for us?". I said "Yes, wasn't that nice?" Hoping he would have forgotten the thousands of rose bushes that sacrificed their lives before this one. His response was "How long will it take you to kill this one?"
I decided not to even try. After all, I put my heart and soul into the last one only for it to die on me. The more emotion I invest the more heartbreaking it is when I see the last leaf fall slowly from the stem. So, I watered the thing and put it on the windowsil of the kitchen. That was three weeks ago. I have watered it, and that's about it. Now it has beautiful dark green foliage and buds galore.
It likes me! It really likes me!
If it dies I'm going to bury it in the back yard and put a little cross out of popsickle sticks. It's never too early for funeral planning.
Monday, June 27, 2005
The nurse started out by having us introduce ourselves. We were all supposed to say when we were due, what it was going to be if we knew, and what our greatest fear is about having the baby. I decided that I was pretty relaxed until I heard everyone else's fears. As each person mentioned what they were worried about, I started thinking "Oh, yea, that IS a concern" and "I hadn't thought about that!". And then they ran the tape warning about preterm labor. By the time I finished the tape I became quite the hypochondriac and started thinking I've had or was currently having every symptom they mentioned. "OMG! Was that a pain? uh, no, that was just the baby moving." "Oh, no, was that a cramp? Oh, no, just gas". Sheesh.
And then the very nice nurse had us lay on the floor and had our husbands massage us for relaxation. Obviously this woman has never had a massage from my dear husband. Quite often I wonder if he is actually trying to relax me, give me a rug burn, or crank a model-T. Relaxing? Uh, no. Try as he might, poor thing. I gritted my teeth as she put on soft music and in a soothing voice kept saying "concentrate on relaxing...relax...relax...". Then Bryan started cracking jokes and we got glared at from the nurse. I made him be quiet before she sent us to the principal.
We did get a nice tour of the facilities. The birthing rooms are great, but once you actually get the kid out they put you in these tiny rooms that resemble a coat closet only it has cable TV. Really, besides the size they are very nice. We went by the nursery and we saw the tiny little babies in there. I had to walk away as just seeing one made my eyes water. Yes, my hubby is going to have a long post-partem time with me. Get ready, dear.
10 things I've never done:
1. Gone on a cruise
2. Met any of my grandparents
3. Eaten frog legs, alligator or bugs of any kind
4. Played hopscotch
5. Had a one night stand
6. Seen or read Alice in Wonderland or Bambi
7. Written to a famous person
8. Camped overnight in a tent
9. Worn a girdle
10. Played the lottery
There ya go! I'm not sure who has done this and who hasn't...so if you want to do it, consider yourself tagged!
Saturday, June 25, 2005
The cable company gave me a new modem, the water company aplogized for screwing up and reduced the bill from $250 to $37.50, and the satellite company is sending me a new receiver. I won't complain about how UPS lost it, but it is on it's way now.
Anyway, I'm hoping tomorrow I can start blogging on a daily basis like I used to. And I'll try to make my new entries much more interesting than this one.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
*bang* *bang* *bang*
(That's the sound of my head banging on the wall as I rock back and forth in the fetal position.)
Well, it will give me more time to call the water company who sent me a $250 water bill (no, in the two weeks I have been here I did not use $250 worth of water). And the satellite company because our satellite TV isn't working, either.
Or, I could just crawl back in bed and pull the covers over my head. Maybe after I finish rocking.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
The cable company, who I now refer to as the spawn of satan along with my sister's dog (but that's another story) did finally call me. They set up an appointment for last Wednesday between 4 and 6 to come and connect our cable internet. I had a church dinner thingie I was supposed to go to, but I realized some sacrifices have to be made if you want certain other nicities in life, so I opted out of the dinner to sit for the cable man. Four o'clock came. Four thirty. Five thirty. Ironically the Seinfeld episode where Cramer waits for the cable man and then taunts him comes on TV. I enjoyed that immensely. Six PM comes. I thought maybe they were just running late. Seven o'clock came and I phoned the cable company. I get into this horrendous automated loop that always ended with some supposedly soothing but rather annoying female computer voice saying "You have an appointment on Wednesday from 4 to 6. To keep this appointment press 1. To cancel it, press 2". Apparently annoying computer voices can't tell time because it was well after 6pm. I would press "1". It would say "Your appointment has been confimred. Goodbye!".
Finally I outsmarted the computer (OK, there's a first time for everything.) and called from my cell phone, so they didn't know who I was. I finally got a live person, who forwarded me to another live person, who had me on hold for about 20 minutes. She came back and said "They will call you to let you know when they are coming". I say "Does that mean they are still coming today?" after all, it was well past 7:30 by this time. She said "I'm not sure".
Now I'm really missing the baked potatoes and salad I was supposed to have at church instead of the leftover cold frozen pizza that I accidentally left in the microwave too long while watching the afore mentioned Seinfeld episode and, therefore, chewed like cardboard.
Finally at 9:30pm, having already given up and changed into my PJ's, I get a phone call from a woman who apologizes profusely and asks if I'll be home tomorrow (last Thursday) for them to come. I said after 3 pm. She said they would be here after 3 pm Thursday.
OK, so 3:30 pm they show up. Great! Finally! Right? Wrong. The guy comes in, goes into this long complaint about the last house and how the lady had "a zillion kids running around" and how it was difficult to work there, and then proceeds to tell me that no one told him I needed a new jack put in and he didn't have time to do it. Sigh. Realizing my pregnancy hormones are at full force as the day before I practically lost it on a guy who wanted to charge me for ranch dressing with my calzone, I chose to instead of losing it on him right there rather count to ten and reschedule for the following Wednesday. That would be today.
A different (thank God) guy who was pleasant came today and had it done in an hour. I thought about hugging the guy but he was drenched in sweat from being in my attic. I do have my limits as much as I do appreciate him.
So, no more 14 k speed internet! I will be on regularly again for your blogging pleasure. Or more MY blogging pleasuere.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Anyway, we did the much anticipated move on Monday and Tuesday (much more on that later). I hooked my computer up and hoped to use dialup until I could get something better. Believe it or not, in the stix I got about a 52kbs dialup, but here very close to Houston I get 14.4!! That's ugly. So, I click on a page, go bake a cake, wash the dog, take tap dancing lessons, click again, learn to cross stitch, meet the neighbors, click on the next page. You get the idea.
OK, no problem. I'll just get DSL. Certainly it is available here. It JUST became available in the stix from which I came. I called the phone company..."Yes! We have it available there!". Great. I sign up. They came by today and said they were wrong. Something about copper wiring, blah, blah, blah. I say "Hey, it's a brand new house! It can't have old wires!" They say something about lines from the central office...copper...whatever. I just don't get it. I wasn't supposed to have these problems living closer to the city. My cell phone actually works here, and it didn't work in the stix.
Fine, so now my only option is cable modem. Well, and satellite internet, but that's too expensive. Tonight I signed up for cable. Online. It literally took an hour to get through the pages to place the order. Sigh.
So, I haven't visited your blogs because, well, at this point the frustration is about like grating your knuckles in a cheese grater. And I'm already hormonal, being pregnant and all. I have read your responses to mine (thanks for that! Some of your drunk/peeing stories were funny! Oh, and the iron pills seem to be helping the energy just a bit, although I admit I may have overdone it a day or two moving. Don't know the results of the 3 hour diabetes test yet, but thanks for asking).
I am supposed to hear from the cable people within 72 hours. If you hear a scream coming from the Southern United States, well, that's just me if the cable company says they can't do it, either.
Now I get to click and wait for this to post. Maybe I'll learn a foreign language like Spanish waiting. Better make that Chinese. It will take a little longer.