One...Two...Five?!

Because I like levity

2008-11-06T22:35:00.000-08:00

I will share my favorite jokes:

1) Why did the chicken cross the road?

To prove to the armadillo it could be done.

2) How many surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb?

Fish

3) Two muffins were being baked in an oven. The first muffin says, "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" The second muffin says, "Holy crap! A talking muffin!"

Finally, as a fond farewell to our lame duck:

"But mostly, we'll miss the dancing."

So I've been tagged.

2008-10-21T20:47:00.000-07:00

A ) Four places that I go to over and over:
Eeny's school, Robin's, Il Primo, Twist

B) Four people who e-mail me (regularly):
Ashley, Jennifer (Eeny's teacher), Mary, Thea

C) My favorite places to eat:
Il Primo, Cocoa Dolce (does that really count?), Caffe Moderne, LeMonde

D) Four places I'd like to be right now:
The cabin in Wisconsin, a home that's ours and big enough for all of us, Victoria, visiting Candy in Scotland.

E) Four people I think will respond:
Hmm....I don't know if four people read this thing. LOL Ashley, maybe, Hil and Beej if I'm lucky, and maybe one of the July mamas.

F) Four TV shows I watch all the time:
Chuck, NCIS, Scrubs, Heroes

I got tagged

2008-10-16T18:23:00.000-07:00

Chantel did it. And I'm coming back tomorrow to fill out the requirements. But it's now past 10pm, and I gotta go to bed. *yawn*

It's too soooon!

2008-09-13T20:52:00.000-07:00

Eeny has a loose tooth! Yes. He's only 2 months past 5, but he has his first loose tooth. He was talking about how when his 'tongue pushes his loose tooth and he keeps wiggling it it will fall out and a new tooth will push it out, too,' and I figured he was talking about his friend A, who has two loose teeth herself, so on a lark, I asked him if he had a loose tooth. "Suuuure I do." He let me wiggle it, and sure enough, it's loose.

Wow. He's growing up so fast...

A sneak peek

2008-08-20T23:06:00.001-07:00

...at Eeny's first day of school:

This is him on the way out. I wasn't with it enough to get a pic on the way in. More to come. :)

Edited to correct the title. :rolleyes How annoying. That'll teach me to post things after 10pm.

Allergy test results

2008-07-31T22:34:00.000-07:00

Hanky had his allergy test this morning. He had scratch tests done, and tested positive for oat and peanut allergies.

In a way, it's a relief. It explains everything he's gone through, from the patchy skin to eczema flare-ups, to the time his face started getting red and puffy while eating at Texas Roadhouse.

I'm sad that he has to deal with this, but hey, at least we know what we're dealing with now.

In other news, the allergist recommended Aveeno lotion to help with the sensitive skin. Um, what? DH called him back and the doctor wisely recommended another brand......without oats.

The Many Faces of Hanky

2008-07-27T22:14:00.000-07:00

Hanky had an allergic reaction Saturday morning. He and DH spent the morning in the ER. His fingers and toes swelled like little sausages. He's on Zyrtec and Prednisolone now, and we're following up with the doc later this week.

I'm so bummed. I did everything "right". The child never had a drop of formula. Hell, he even lived with a dog for the first 4 months of his life. All of the good anti-allergen things were done, and he still reacts mysteriously to something that we can't immediately identify. It's frustrating.

He is also weaned. I nursed him for 3 years, 3 months, and 21 days. With his reaction, and the fact that I would have to eliminate a substantial number of things from my diet to continue to nurse him, in addition to the fact that I've been looking for an opportunity to move forward in our mother child relationship beyond the nursing dyad, I decided, with DH's support, to go ahead and wean. While this is not the circumstance I would have chosen, it is what it is, and he has accepted it with minimal fuss, and we're ready to continue on our journey together. I love my dear boy.

The 3 Year Breastfeeding Milestone Award

Yes, that's what it is.

2008-07-24T21:23:00.000-07:00

Yes, that's spackle on the baby's head. The middle child apparently didn't have enough to do, and felt that covering his own head, and that of his brother with color changing spackle (goes on purple, dries white) would be a greeeeaaaat way to spend a few minutes.

I heard all 3 kids in the dining room and then realized it was way too quiet. We've repainted the living and dining rooms recently, and DH left the paint stuff cleaned, packed into the corner, and ready to go. The spackle (polyfiller for the Brits that aren't reading my humble blog :P) container is far from childproof. Ugh.

Fortunately, it came off the walls, the floor, and both of the little boys. The eldest, who was drawing in the dining room 5 feet away from the Spackling Offender didn't feel it necessary to tell me what was going on. Booger. :)

Life with boys is never boring, that's for sure. ;)

He learned a new word

2008-07-13T22:24:00.001-07:00

Pollywog learned to say "Mommy". Every word out of his mouth today has been "Mamaaaah! Mommy!" Anybody wanna hold a cute little boy?

Happy Birthday Eeny!

2008-07-11T22:30:00.000-07:00

My baby turned 5 today. :) We took him to see Wall*E, which was thorougly enjoyable, with the short at the beginning so funny I laughed until I cried.

He got a Millennium Falcon, with which he is thrilled, and tomorrow is the party with his school friends. :)

I've been a nursing mama for a whole 5 years today. Eeny weaned at age 3. Hanky is still nursing, and Pollywog is, too. I'm rather proud of that accomplishment. 5 straight years is a moment in the grand scheme of things, but it's my 5 years, and I'm happy with it.

He walks!

2008-07-06T13:21:00.000-07:00

...sort of.

We were at my parents' yesterday, and at bedtime, when my dad was reading a story to the boys, Pollywog got distracted and walked right over to him and looked over his shoulder. It was only three steps, but he did it by himself!

Oooooh, I want!

2008-06-28T10:03:00.000-07:00

Win the Essential Babywearing Stash from Along for the Ride (one Beco Butterfly, one Hotsling baby pouch, one BabyHawk Mei Tai, one Zolowear Ring Sling, and one Gypsy Mama Wrap)

That's it.

2008-06-28T00:16:00.000-07:00

Son needed *me* at that point, more than he needed his father. It was a very real, very pressing need to him. And as he has started to mature and follow the natural progression of separating from the mother/child dyad, Daddy has been come more and more important to Son. And as Son grows into childhood, teenager-dom, and adulthood, DH will play a far more central role in helping Son develop his sense of growing into a man than I ever will. DH provides a relationship to Son that I cannot, and that will become a central focus and a central importance at one point to Son.
-R

And that's it. That's why I want (a) daughter(s).

When my sons grow up, they will join the ranks of men, not the ranks of women. I have not replaced myself in the world with strong, kind, compassionate, intelligent women. I have seen to the eventual replacement of my husband with three strong, compassionate, and intelligent men, but there will be no women of my own to gather with in the kitchen over Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, or birthing room discussions of how that most recent labor compared to the generations of women behind us that now happens in my conversations with my mother and sister.

Oh sure, there will almost certainly be daughters-in-law, but they aren't mine. They will belong to their families. They will not have been grown in my womb, nurtured at my breast, or sustained by my body. They will not have my husband's stunning green eyes, my nose, or his grin.

Saddest of all, there will be no network of women. The mother-daughter teas, slumber parties, and shopping for a prom dress, the first bra, the first period, the way the house erupts in a cacaphony of hormones when the women hit just that time in their cycles, the soothing of the teenage broken heart with ice cream, brownies, and movies will not be. There is such a rich and close culture among women--the way we're there for each other when things suck, that simply doesn't translate among men.

And while I'm afraid this sounds like I want a girl to be let into the club (which isn't the case), I must say it anyway. Without a daughter, who will my knowledge go to? My sons will learn some, but they can never make the decisions that their partner must. They'll learn how to support, but will never empathize. They will not teach their daughters in turn, as they won't know, and won't have felt for themselves. And truthfully, that knowledge saddens me.

I madly, completely, head over heels, hopelessly love my sons. I always will. I would not trade them for all the girls in the world! They are my breaths of fresh air, my amusement on a warm summer evening, my exuberance in winter, and my snuggles on a cool autumn night.

My desire for children who share my gender does not negate the above sentences for one second. My children are precious to me. I'd like some more precious ones.

I just needed to get my feelings out.

That is all.

Wheeeeee!

2008-05-29T22:19:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be an Auntie again! I'm very happy. My actual sister can't be prevailed upon to reproduce as of yet, so it's up to a dear friend to provide me with little people to spoil who aren't my own. ;)

In other news, Rooster is on day 5 of EPO for his eczema. It makes a difference as long as he's treated topically. I'm still trying to figure out what's best for him, as this thing has gone on long enough. I'll be finding out if the homeopath here in town is reimbursable through our FSA.

Oh, and I love my summer client. :)

That is all.

Wow.

2008-05-15T21:43:00.000-07:00

http://www.ksn.com/news/local/18915504.html

I went to high school with David.

This is incredibly sad. :(

Wellllll let's update this thing a little.

2008-05-11T18:30:00.000-07:00

Very long time no post. Eeny will turn 5 in July. Rooster just turned 3. And the newest addition to our family, Pollywog, turned 1 year old this past week.

The baby bug has bitten, and bitten hard. Bleh. We're still in the same house, DarthHusband is doing the same job, and aside from a stronger and healthier marriage, things are still very same-y. :)

I work as an office administrator for a church, and the boys come with me. It's nice to have the flexibility to do that, but I'm ready for summer, when DH will take the boys while I work.

2006-08-14T00:38:00.000-07:00

I don't remember suppositories being meds used when I was growing up. On the other hand, maybe I blocked the memory. Eeny was prescribed some over the weekend for some impressive vomiting. He seems to be done with that now, thank God, since he wasn't able to eat anything for 2.5 days. He's keeping crackers down now.

The Rooster was running a fever of 102, the second highest ever for him, poor thing. Motrin helped, and he actually slept all night. They both did, which totally weirded us out, as we rarely make it through a night without one of them needing something.

There are only two good things about having sick kids. 1) They're cuddly and will let you snuggle them all day. Darn that attachment parenting for making them so freaking independent. ;) 2) They're so tired from not being able to keep anything down that they can't move out of the way of the camera.

Therefore, I present to you a photograph of my children, being sick and watching Finding Nemo for the 97835908357th time:

[IMG]http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c114/theladyeowynofrohan/SickbabiesandNemo8-136.jpg[/IMG]

They have a doctor's appointment in the morning. Eeny said, "I'm gonna see Doctor ____, and then I feel better."

For a three year old, he's got a remarkably good grasp on cause and effect. For instance, making the sounds of water splashing on tile causes Mommy to yell, "Water stays in the tub!!!" from the room where she's dressing the baby. It's apparently "funny."

Further note: responding with, "I'm just spilling it," does not have the desired effect of keeping Mommy the heck away from the bathroom in order to avoid seeing the half inch of water all over the bathroom floor. It also does not stop her from turning purple and working very hard to (successfully) maintain her temper while lecturing said three year old on the appropriateness of water on the floor outside the tub in a house she'd like to sell eventually. On the other hand, it's not like there haven't been enough puky sheets and towels in this house. What's a few that are wet with actual water instead?

I'm getting my packets together for my doula service. It's going well so far. I have a potential client who wanted to talk more in a month or so. That was last month. I should drop her an e-card, but I don't want to be pushy.

The Rooster has fallen asleep on the floor behind me. It'll be a busy week. One of my clients and dear friends is finding out the sex of her baby this week, and I'm on tenterhooks until she does. I wanna know. :)

More introspection

2006-07-21T23:57:00.000-07:00

Before the battery on the Lappy dies. Anyway, I think I'm understanding myself more. The CPS incident (see the entries from November and December of 04) hurt me so much because I am an extrovert. I'm a very extroverted extrovert, too. Simply put, I need people to be okay. I need people around me, sharing my joy and my triumphs. I need people to understand me and just let me know I'm normal (at least, the more I learn, the more I think I am). We will probably never know who made the call. That part is really difficult for me. I don't know who (among those I knew at the time) I can trust. To an extrovert, not being able to trust is to choke the life out of a relationship. To have that necessary for emotional okay-ness thing taken from you is devastating.

I have also noticed that I take nearly any blanket statement made and try to apply it to myself. I try so hard that I've often taken statements that don't apply to me at all and made them about me. This, I think, is the root cause of my anxiety. I doubt I'm okay, because I hear I'm not. It even calls into question my salvation. There are so many different ways of looking at it and how one is supposed to go about obtaining and hanging onto it, that I've convinced myself I didn't really get it done right in the first place. Emotional truth: I haven't done exactly the right thing to be saved. Reality: I've prayed the sinner's prayer. God is real and is in my life and I do what I can, tentatively on my part. I'm so nervous sometimes. I don't know God well. In some ways, it feels presumptuous to even try. I'm scared of Him. Scared he's going to squash me like a bug or sacrifice me like a pawn in a chess game. Every time I think about any of the negative earthly consequences of following Him, I get so focused on the negative consequences, that I get very afraid of them. My flesh (and often my spirit, too) doesn't want any pain or bad things to happen. There's no guarantee that they will, but my negative side refuses to believe that. I've somehow made myself think that because I feel that way, I'm somehow less saved than someone who's all in. I am all in. In my head, I'm all in. It's my emotions that won't shut up long enough to let me know it. It's like there's a buzzing in my head and a lens focused on exactly what I'm afraid of. I'd type more of it out, and even all of it out, but it would trigger a massive panic attack, and I just can't handle it right now.

At this moment, the only thing I can focus on (besides sending this to my dad, which I will do), is the here and now, for me and my family. I can't concentrate on other places, because it's too much for me to think about and me to worry about. The Lord will take care of it--it's all His anyway....

So for now, I'll finish reading my email, then snuggle my sweet baby boy (who put himself to sleep tonight) then I'll sleep and go talk to my dad in the morning. Baby steps.

It's really freaking long, but here...

2006-07-16T22:48:00.000-07:00

Grab a snack and pee before you start it...there's only three songs, and they're good ones. :)

Create your own video at One True Media

Argh!

2006-07-16T00:00:00.000-07:00

He's teasing me. DarthHusband has been playing handsies, footsies, or whatever part of his body he can touch me withsies all freaking day. I'm ovulating and he knows it. We use NFP and avoid during fertile times. It's absolutely not fair for him to tease me like that when he knows it's not "safe." Grr. Sometimes I think Mr. I Don't Want Another Baby Right Now's resolve is rather weak, and he wouldn't mind having another one. There's been an awful lot of girl babies born lately, and it's made him rather dopey.

I'm going to bed now. If he jumps me, and I get pregnant, I'm saying it here and now. I warned him.

I'm open to another baby whenever. He's not. Therefore, I do my part by letting him know I'm ovulating and he does his part by staying the heck away from me.

Ha.

Oh!

2006-07-11T09:33:00.000-07:00

And it's Eeny's 3rd birthday. Happy Birthday Sweet Baby Boy!!! http://hometown.aol.com/hiseowyn/myhomepage/baby.html

Crackers.

2006-07-11T09:28:00.000-07:00

I, yes, I have landed myself in therapy.

Perhaps it was the meltdown over not being able to attend the upcoming Wiggles concert (August 8) with my whole family (seriously, wtf), or maybe it was the massive anxiety attack I had throughout X-Men 3 on Sunday night after we dropped the boys off with my mom for their first overnight together (I'd have been fine if the movie had been more engaging). Anyway, my husband asked my sobbing, disintegrating self this morning if it might help if I see someone. I think he was expecting me to fly up off of the couch and kill him for suggesting it. Instead, I wanted to ask him what the fuck took him so long to realize I am not myself and need a little bit of help. He's on the other computer right now, running the insurance approved list of care providers past my dad for a recommendation.

Whee!

He's walking!

2006-06-17T15:15:00.000-07:00

The Rooster's officially walking!!! He has been for the last two days. When he falls, instead of crawling somewhere, he now gets up and walks. It's bittersweet.

Here's my clan crest--I like it:

And here's the new avi:

Day 239873 (okay, so more like day 5) of GCM being down, and I'm in withdrawal. I've been forced to become more active on my local moms forum. Hmph. I'm headed out to a Mary Kay mani/pedi party. Pedi party. Heh. I hope I enjoy it, even though it will be an evening full of girls.

What happens when I get bored...

2006-06-15T07:22:00.000-07:00

I watched "Dear Frankie" last night, while frosting and fondanting (made up word alert!) the above creation. I need cookie cutters, and lots of 'em. I had to do that flower by hand, and I'm sooooo not impressed. Re: "Dear Frankie": it was good. I liked it, and as always, Gerry Butler = hot hot hot.

I recall a friend of mine's mother, who had recently moved here from London, took one look at Dad and me and pronounced us soundly of Scottish descent. We are--my great-grandfather came to Canada from Scotland.

I coulda told you that...

2006-06-11T21:41:00.000-07:00

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Physical Touch
with a secondary love language being
Receiving Gifts.

Complete set of results

Physical Touch:		11
Receiving Gifts:		7
Words of Affirmation:		7
Quality Time:		4
Acts of Service:		1

Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Take the quiz

So anyway, I burned my hand earlier today. We have two frying pans. One has a metal handle that doesn't get hot. One has a rubberized handle with an exposed metal part that does get hot. I made pancakes, and when I moved the pan off he burner to add an egg, I tried to move the pan back, and forgot that it was the pan that gets hot. I think the blister going up the side of my finger and onto my hand will remind me to double check the pan in future.
I kept my poor hand in a bowl of cold water for an hour and a half today. That sucker hurt. DarthHusband went and got me bandages and Neosporin plus Pain Relief. It's good stuff.

I'll probably slack on posting again, as this friggin' hurts and it affects my typing.

Riiiight.

2006-06-06T12:43:00.000-07:00

What Guys Think of Your Ponytail...

Girlish, free spirited, low maintenance.
The kind of girl he can take camping ... for fire building and romance :-)

What Do Guys Think Of Your Hair?

Currently, they might think it's dirty. I need a shower.

We're getting ready to take the short people swimming.

As you can see, my E key is not permanently damaged, thanks to a resourceful DH. The 7's a little wonky, but will continue to be usable for some time.

"I'm fixing it."

2006-06-04T21:41:00.000-07:00

It was Eeny's naptime. I put Rooster in Eeny's room, grabbed the naptime book, sat down on the bed, and called for Eeny to follow us.

Me: Come on, kiddo. Naptime.
Eeny: I'm fixing it!
Me: What are you fixing? Come on, it's time for nap!
E: Hang on just a second, I'm fixing it.
Me: Fixing what?

I totally should have gotten up the second I heard the word "fixing." That usually indicates something's broken, and usually further indicates that Eeny's the one who broke it. Anyway, filled with misgiving, I get up and go into the living room. My laptop sits on my desk, and has been christened "Lappy," thanks to homestarrunner.com
. Eeny is sitting at my desk, using a ball point pen like a screw driver, making whirring noises under his breath. My '7' key and my 'E' key, along with various tiny black pieces that make up the framework for these keys, are laying on the desk. "See Mom? I fix the Lappy."

Oh, dear. I really, really wanted to smack him. My $800 computer. Practically brand-new. Two keys damaged, perhaps unusable. I was so angry. I replied, "It is Mom's job to fix the Lappy. You have broken it."

My poor baby. He looked so sad and scared. He knew I was mad. He was afraid of what I'd do next. Praise God for grace. I was able to give it. I picked him up, told him Daddy would finish fixing it, and hugged him. Then I reminded him that my computer was NOT for him to touch.

Stuff

2006-05-31T23:36:00.000-07:00

Life here's good. Rooster's still working on the teeth. 6 of 8 are through, and since he's beginning to actually get decent at walking more than two steps at a time, he's sleeping for crap, poor baby. Poor mama, too.

Eeny's all of a sudden become a conversationalist. This morning's discussion:

E: Hi Mom!
Me: (under the covers and barely awake) Mmmfhhff. Hi.
E: Mom! Wake up!
Me: I'm awake. (yawn)
E: Where's Rooster?
Me: Right beside me.
E: (thinks for a minute) Can I have some Nee?
Me: Count of ten, but that's it. Then you can snuggle.
[We count to ten] Okay, that's it. Time to snuggle.
E: Can I go play cars now?
Me: Sure.
E: Okay. I'm going to the other room.

DarthHusband's out of school for the summer, and we're figuring out how to make all of our schedules work. He wants to make sure he gets to the gym every day, and I want to make sure we get lots of house projects done, and lots of kid stuff done, too.

Me this week.

2006-05-22T22:07:00.000-07:00

You Are 36% Abnormal

You are at low risk for being a psychopath. It is unlikely that you have no soul.

You are at medium risk for having a borderline personality. It is somewhat likely that you are a chaotic mess.

You are at medium risk for having a narcissistic personality. It is somewhat likely that you are in love with your own reflection.

You are at medium risk for having a social phobia. It is somewhat likely that you feel most comfortable in your mom's basement.

You are at low risk for obsessive compulsive disorder. It is unlikely that you are addicted to hand sanitizer.

How Abnormal Are You?

Looking back...

2006-05-02T01:10:00.000-07:00

There's a thread on my month board about discipline that talks a little bit about saying please and thank you. We taught Eeny to say please and thank you by modeling it for him. He picked it up pretty quickly, and without the "you say please or you don't get it" power struggle that defined so much of my childhood. I was sharing our methods with the other posters, when I remembered something from after the Rooster's birth.

Rooster was literally only a day or so old (I can't remember if it was the day of his birth or the day after), and I was sitting on the couch, nursing him. My parents were there, as were my sister and brother, and DarthHusband was chatting with us, too. My sister brought out shortbread cookies. She gave one to everyone, and Eeny ate his quickly. He asked for another one, and she said, "Say please." He didn't, and the power struggle began.

I hate the way my will is ignored during my labor and postpartum period. It angers me. It's as though I'm invalid, since I've just gone through this amazing, trying, exhausting process. I have no energy left to fight for what I want, and it goes by the wayside. I spoke up, and said that he'd just gotten a baby brother, and she hadn't made him say please for the first cookie, just model it and move on, but Darth overruled me. I just sat there, and watched my entire family insist my 20 month old baby say please before he could have a stupid cookie on the day his world was changed forever. He must have been so overwhelmed with all of the big people demanding he perform. He gets overstimulated easily. No wonder the poor wee man burst into tears and melted down completely. I wish I could go back and stand up for him. :( My sweet little boy. I love him with all of my heart. The joy he and his brother bring me is immeasurable.

I wish I found it easier to communicate with him. I have learned, through nearly three years of sometimes trial and error, how to meet his needs, and how to respond to his intense emotions. It's a delicate dance--teaching him acceptable expression, and meeting his needs, teaching him to balance his wants and desires with the reality that life isn't always what we think it should be. He's such a precious child. The way he explores the world is a sight to behold. I love watching him play with his cars. I adore hearing him say, "Come play cars with me?" For the first time today, I did it. I'm usually on the computer when he asks me, and by the time I close things out, he's moved on. No more. At the request to play cars, my away message shall go up, and I shall gleefully dash to the other room to bang model cars together with a happy two year old. This time is too short, and too precious to miss.

The realization of the above sentence creeps up on me ever so softly. I need to ask my friend K to watch the kids while I go observe the Preschool room at DarthHusband's school. Preschool. Wow. Eeny will be three in July. I can't believe how fast time has flown. Before I know it, he'll be grown, and bringing home to meet us a wife of his own. Ack. LOL I hope she breastfeeds and likes the idea of homebirth. I hope I'll be a good mother-in-law. Anyway, preschool is still a bit farther off than I'd expect, as all of the preschools in My Fair City require attendees to be potty trained. Considering Eeny still refuses to do anything Not Pee in the potty ("Do you want to poo on the potty?" "Nooooooooooooooo!"), I think full time underoos are not in our immediate future.

I hear Rooster stirring. He'll want to nurse. I'm so glad my babies need me. It's such a wonderful feeling.

I'll try to remember that at 5 this morning when they both want to nurse, and neither of them will give me one inch of my own space. God bless these boys of mine. I love them so. :)

So...

2006-04-29T14:03:00.000-07:00

I am definitely not pregnant. That's fine with me, as I need to get back into shape before I contemplate stretching everything out with another of DarthHusband's monsterbabies. We'll try again early next year or the year after. I'd like to make sure my nasty veins are in the best shape possible. We'll see if I can do this pregnancy thing without gaining 72lbs again, too.

Updates:

Me: I'm bringing the doula training workshop to My Fair City in June. I'm taking Eeny to see The Wiggles Live in May. I still heart Gerard Butler. I told DarthHusband I'd go see 300 with him. He knows my real motivation for going, but will take me to see it anyway. Good man.

DarthHusband: The CPAP is life changing, truly. It's amazing what proper oxygenation at night will do for one's mood and health. We're now having marital relations on a regular basis, and our marriage is infinitely better off for it.
He was even nice to Jehovah's Witnesses the other day. I missed the real him so much.

Eeny: Talking up a storm, pretending his fingers are walking people, saying things like, "I need my favorite toy," and still nursing. I never thought I'd still be nursing at this age, and I admit I'm ready for him to decide to wean whenever he wants. However, it's awfully cute to see him walk over to me, lay his head in my lap and say, "I would really really love a little bit of my favorite Nee." He's such a cutie, and is nicely outgrowing his runaway phase, which makes public outings much, much easier.

The Rooster: 'Tis himself. He's taking 3 or 4 steps at a time, but isn't really walking tremendously well yet. He's jabbering more, and says Mama, Dada, Eeeyah (Eeny), and this, that, and "Cheese!" The last one is said while shutterbug mommy's in his face with the camera. He's such a cutie. He got kicked out of KidZone at the gym today for wanting to be held all the time. They won't let him return that day if I've had to go get him, so my Pilates class was shot, but that's okay, because he's such a snugglebunny. He's cutting 8 teeth--all 4 molars and all 4 eye teeth--so he's a million kinds of miserable, and two of them broke through today. I feel so badly for him.

Bizarre dream

2006-04-06T23:13:00.000-07:00

So in this dream, I took a pregnancy test. As an indicator for positive, the two lines suddenly became animated and started dancing around gleefully. Yeah. Sure. Gleeful dancing lines. It was definitely a dream--I'm crampy and tired and ready for AF to show or for my temps to freaking do something so I can have some random idea of what's going on with this body of mine.

Wow, I need to get more sleep.

Happy Birthday Rooster!

2006-04-05T14:32:00.000-07:00

Here's a refresher on the birth story. I love my little guy! :)

Monday, April 4th was my due date. I’d been told by “everybody” throughout most of my pregnancy that I’d probably deliver early, and I’d sort of started to believe it. I got rather impatient as my EDD neared, and as I was absolutely enormous, I felt more than ready to have this baby. Monday marked the day that hope was permanently eclipsed. I didn’t really mind though. Instead, I felt that all the pressure was now off. My phone, which had been ringing off the hook, was blissfully silent most of the day. Ian and I spent the day running a couple of errands and playing and cuddling.

I took a nap around 8pm, and woke up at 10. I wasn’t tired, so I got on the computer. I stayed online for a few hours, and finally got tired around 2. I’d had maybe 4 contractions the entire day, and they were no more significant than the Braxton-Hicks I’d had through the month or so leading up to this. Inspired by a birth story I’d read earlier that night, I decided to write down what I wanted out of the birth. I had 8 things in mind.

1) A happy, healthy baby
2)A gentle birth from the baby’s perspective
3)I didn’t want him to be scared
4)I wanted the birth to be easy on him
5)A relatively short labor
6)A calm, trusting birth
7)I wanted him to be born before the back up OB wanted to start non-stress tests
8)I had an appointment with the back up OB scheduled for the morning of 4/5, because I would have been 42 weeks, 1 day according to LMP. I wanted him to be born before it.

I went to bed thinking, “Watch—this’ll be the night—I should have gotten to bed earlier.”

I woke up around 4:30 with what I thought was a really bad gas pain. I thought I’d better go ahead and pee since I had to do that anyway, so I went to the bathroom. I spent the whole time in the bathroom trying to breathe through what I finally realized were two monster contractions. I got out of there and went into my bedroom (right next door), and realized that 15 minutes had passed just as another contraction hit. I tried to get to where I could breathe through it, but unlike my first labor, these contractions were truly painful. I tried leaning forward and rocking through it, and it worked, but barely. As soon as that one was over, I woke DarthHusband and told him I didn’t think he’d be going to work today. I got the stopwatch and tried to time contractions, but I kept falling asleep and waking up on a peak. I figured they were about 3 minutes apart and lasting two minutes each, so I woke up DarthHusband again, springing out of bed during a contraction (laying down hurt), and yelling at him to call Midwife (the midwife), NOW. He called, and said that we really wanted to let her sleep, but that this just might be it. At the time, I said she should call back in a half-hour and then see where things were.

We got off the phone, and 2 contractions later, Ian woke up, crying because the house was lit up, and we weren’t in our bed. I tried to lie down with him to get him back to sleep, but it was too painful. I was feeling like I needed some space in a big way, and seeing Ian so distressed was upsetting to me, so I had DarthHusband call my parents and have them come get him. My mom arrived and stayed with me for a few contractions, holding Ian. He was crying—poor little guy, he was so tired and he didn’t understand why there were people up and running around—dangit, we were all supposed to be asleep! I went to the bathroom again, telling my mom I’d be out in a minute to kiss him goodbye. Ian got more upset then, so she and DarthHusband decided to go ahead and send her home before I got out of the bathroom. That made me rather upset, as I had really wanted to kiss him goodbye. :-/

Midwife called back, and talked to one of us briefly, saying she was on her way. When she got here (about 10 minutes later), she headed into the bedroom to get the Doppler and her things set up. At this point, I had an enormous contraction that was really painful. I was holding onto DarthHusband thinking, ‘It’s way too early for me to feel like this—I’ve only been contracting for 45 minutes or so, and I’m sure I’ve got hours and hours left to go, and I know I’m overanalyzing it and being a drama queen, but,’ and then out loud, I heard myself say, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” I was really sleepy and wanted to go back to bed. Midwife heard me say that, and convinced me to come back into the bedroom and get checked. After the length of my previous birth, during which I’d stayed at 6cm for three days, I was afraid to get checked, and I didn’t want to hear that I was 6 centimeters. I told her that I didn’t want to hear it if I was 6cm. If it was less than that, fine, I could deal, and if it was more than that, then I definitely wanted to know, but I didn’t want to hear 6. I told her she could lie to me and say 5cm if a 6 I was. She said then that she had small hands, and that it sometimes made it difficult to tell when people were dilated to 8. I had a contraction and that statement flew right over my head. However, her comment about a bulging bag of waters didn’t. She said my water would break soon, and then I’d probably want to push, which would be great.

It was then that I realized I was afraid. I felt so out of control. Ian’s labor had been long—very long, but it was never unmanageable, and the stage I was in was not what I would have considered painful. This time though, it hurt. I felt like I was at the mercy of the contractions, and I was afraid of where they’d take me. And I wasn’t ready to have this baby. I was supposed to have a few hours to get used to the idea that this was indeed real. Things were happening way too fast for me.

I didn’t want my water to break because I knew that contractions are usually much more intense after that happens, even though last time it wasn’t so. I told DarthHusband and Midwife this. I really felt like I should give voice to my fears and let them out. This happened several times during the labor. If I was afraid of something (water breaking, the ring of fire, etc), as soon as I voiced it, the event I feared happened and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Just as I said, “….because I don’t want it to hurt anymore than it already does,” my water broke. Like last time, I had a lot of fluid. Fortunately, it broke on a chux pad, and they got the plastic down in time, so there was only a small spot of it on the floor (it was clear anyway). The contractions did become more intense, but they were not more painful. The apprentices arrived about then. Since we knew this baby would be bigger than my first, I tried lying on my side. My belly felt too heavy for that, but I stayed there for a few contractions. She asked if I felt like pushing, and said I should go with it if I did. I didn’t.

When I felt like it, I tried pushing in that position (side-lying) a few times, and noticed that Midwife was no longer removing the Doppler from my belly after each contraction. I asked if everything was okay, and she said things were fine, but I should probably change positions to something more comfortable and if the toilet was comfortable last time, maybe I should try it again. We moved to the bathroom, and DarthHusband told me each time I was doing a good job. It was so encouraging to hear, especially since I felt so out of control. Midwife asked if I would please try pushing now, as she wasn’t able to hear the heart rate as well as she liked. I knew everything was okay, but I heard myself praying anyway. I was praying for the strength to remember that the pain was okay, and the result of all of this was a baby anyway, and that the baby would be okay. I’d sort of forgotten that this was leading up to a real baby in all of my fear. I pushed a couple of times, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t comfortable in the least, and it felt so much better to gently blow through contractions. It was the only way I felt in control. I think at one point I told Midwife to “get that #I$&)! Doppler off of me,” and she said she was sorry, but she really wanted to hear him. I was okay with it then. I tried to push again, and then stopped and asked if Ian would be mad at me. I hadn’t kissed him goodbye (something I always make it a point to do), and here I was turning him into a big brother and throwing him into a whole new phase of life, and he'd never be my only child again. After being assured that no, he wouldn’t, and this baby was coming anyway, I tried again. I could feel the baby descend a bit, but was afraid that since it didn’t feel right that he was malpositioned. Midwife assured me that when she checked, she felt the appropriate sutures on his skull, and that she was sure he was positioned right, but maybe I needed another position. Did I want to go back to the bedroom? I answered yes, and DarthHusband, who kept telling me reassuring things (after I nearly dismembered him for counting during a push—poor guy), helped me up to move.

I took two steps, and suddenly fell (not hard) to my knees. The tile floor was surprisingly comfortable, and things immediately felt right. I told DarthHusband and Midwife that the baby was going to be born right here in the bathroom, and they’d better get ready for it, and could I please have some pillows? The apprentices got the pillows for me, and I felt like I could push now. I pushed and felt his shoulders on my pelvic bones. I pushed again, and it burned. I felt warm compresses, and the burning went away. DarthHusband told me he could see a head. Then I heard, “I see lips, I see lips!” I waited until I felt another contraction, and then pushed again. I felt my pelvic bones separate to let the baby’s shoulders through. I don’t remember feeling that with Ian. I heard one of the apprentices say quietly, “The oxygen’s right here.” My heart was telling me that the baby was fine, but I asked anyway. I was told, “It’s just in case.” I heard myself scream as I pushed the rest of him out into DarthHusband's waiting hands, feeling in those few seconds his transition from the abstract concept of “the baby” to the concrete My Child. I didn’t scream because it hurt, but because the feeling was so intense. Then I heard, “Ohhhh, we’ve got a cord, times one…….two……three?! Lindsay—hang on a second, this little one’s all tangled up in his cord.” (This explains why she had kept the Doppler on me.) DarthHusband told me what they were doing as he worked with them to unwind our new son from his cord. He didn’t cry. Somehow I knew he was all right, even though he was quiet. I knew it was because he wasn’t scared. I heard a couple of whimpers, and was helped to turn over, and I could finally hold my little one. DarthHusband confirmed he was a boy, and I was immediately thrilled with my new son. It was 7:53am, just 3 hours and 23 minutes after I felt the first contraction.

The midwives were getting slightly concerned because Rooster wasn’t crying, so I asked him to cry just once to tell them he was okay. He let out one indignant yell, and then settled right back down, and looked at me with big, dark eyes. He nursed for a minute, I delivered the placenta immediately after—it was a big one, and then, after a quick shower for me, Rooster and I snuggled in bed. I ate a huge breakfast while DarthHusband weighed Rooster. When he came out, we were sure there was no way he was bigger than Ian had been—he just felt so tiny all crunched up in my arms. Midwife double-checked the scale, and Rooster was indeed bigger, weighing in at 9lbs, 4oz, and measuring just a wee bit shorter at 20.5 inches (and he refused to uncurl his leg to make it an even 21). An examination of me revealed one small labial abrasion (not worth a stitch), and not even so much as a skid mark to my perineum. I’ve healed very well, and feel pretty much back to normal, except for the lovely postpartum stomach with brand-new stretch marks.

Looking back over the birth, there were a few things that stood out to us. The first was that I gave birth in the ideal position for a large baby with a nuchal cord. It was amazing to me that my body knew exactly how to best deliver him for his size and the unexpected cord. His cord was also longer than normal. This was probably why I had so much amniotic fluid—it kept the cord floating well during the pregnancy. The cord was long enough that I was able to push him out before the midwife had a chance to determine whether it would need to be cut or if it could simply be unwrapped. His heart rate had dropped into the 90s, but did not do so until I began to push, and even though it was low, it was steady, and did not drop any lower. We suspect that Rooster wrapped himself in it on his way out, as his heart rate was strong and steady in the 120s even after my water broke. The cord was wrapped tightly enough to cause his heart to slow, but it was not pulled tightly enough to empty it or completely compress it. His descent into and through the birth canal was so rapid that his head wasn’t the slightest bit coney, yet for such a rapid birth, he had no bruising, and no signs of having been through any trauma whatsoever. I believe this birth was gentle for him. He is still a very calm baby, and very rarely cries. He was given an initial Apgar score of 5, because of his slow heart rate, and because he decided to take his time breathing (he didn't come out crying or obviously breathing), but by two minutes, he was given a score of 8. He required no oxygen, and was easily convinced to breathe with just a bit of blow-by. Had we planned to have this birth in a hospital, I don't know if we would have made it in. I think I probably would have wanted to stay home, not wanting to go in too soon. Since my first labor was so long, I know I wouldn't have believed I had progressed as far as I did in such a short time. I haven't marked time well in this story, but going back over it with the midwife, from the time Rooster's heart rate dropped into the 90s to the time he was born was about 20 minutes. We went to my family doctor the next day for my RhoGam shot, and to have the doctor take a peek at Rooster. He heard the whole birth story, and said it sounded like things went great. "Uncomplicated pregnancy, relatively uncomplicated delivery--just wonderful!" He gave us a pat on the back, along with his hearty congratulations and sent us home to rest.

I am firmly convinced that in spite of how rocky this birth was for me, it was gentle and easy on Rooster, which is just how I’d prayed it would be. I looked at the list I’d made the night before, and realized, as I sent DarthHusband to call and cancel the appointment with my back up OB, that I’d gotten everything on that list. Even though I didn’t feel particularly calm, I had a sense of peace through the whole thing that everything was fine. This labor and birth has taught me more about myself that I realize. It was an amazing experience.

Haiku Battle 2006

2006-03-30T22:04:00.000-08:00

It all started when Kimmy, a teacher, posted a limerick written by one of her students. A limerick minus some valuable syllables was posted by another loop member. I was going to respond with a limerick, but they're hard, and I'm not about to take an hour coming up with a 5 line, multi-syllabic bit for the loop, as fast as it moves. Haiku is doable.

Thus,

Haiku Battle 2006

Me: Kim is a teacher
She works very hard on things
She prefers good dick

Kimmy: hard dick

Me:Whatever you say
I want points for my haiku
Give them to me now

Kimmy: Listen snarky bitch
I am grading this bullshit
Take this and like it

Me: I will take ice cream
No more, no less for me, please
I want chocolate

Kimmy: Just ate M and Ms
John ate gallon of ice cream
Too much fat for him

Me: I'm eating noodles
They have lots of ranch on them
Broccoli hurts me

Kimmy: Please no more haikus
Consonants are annoying
Stupid assignment

Me: It is not my fault
Limericks are much harder
You started it, bia

Shel: Fat free popcorn here
I lost 4.8 this week
Not rubbing it in

Me: Congratulations
You are on your way to slim
Popcorn sounds very good

Kimmy: I've created a monster.

Me: You have not done so
I have discovered my love
Such a simple prose

Kissy: today i looked down at my long sleeved black shirt and it looked like a garden slug had made its way down my arm.

Shel: you are the most poetic of the bitches (sorry, L)

Me: The haiku monster
Has returned to take revenge
Yea, I shall triumph

Kimmy: yes i wanted sex
but he fell asleep again
ah so much for that

My last entry for the night, sadly, highly relevant. He's batting at his ears again, I'll have to take him for a recheck tomorrow.

Amoxicillin
The pink stuff in use again
Ear infections suck

So there was this post

2006-03-28T22:43:00.000-08:00

About car seats and safety. And it got locked and it was because some people are completely incapable of reading posts objectively. Does the phrase "blah blah blah" indicate basic respect and courtesy for the words to which it is the response? I think no.

Anyway, since I didn't get a chance to respond before the Blah Blah Blah-er got the thread locked, I'll post it here, since it was a darn good post--WhinyPerson comments in italics, comments from Myself in green :

WhinyPerson wrote:
blah blah blah...lol...just wanted to say something...lol...this subject is way heavy, can't we just leave it at we get what we want, and car seats now are a lot safer than they used to be, and just pray that we never have to test out the safety of any of them...

This is in the Hot Topics forum for the very reason that it is a heavy subject. Debates are often circular and can take a while to wind themselves down, as this one obviously is.

WhinyPerson wrote: good lord it's seems like it's being said that if you don't have a certain seat a certain way your child is gonna die and that it's your fault for putting them in that seat..bah...

I'm sorry that's the impression you've gotten. The bottom line is that a child is at considerably higher risk when improperly secured in an improperly installed car seat.

WhinyPerson wrote:
at least we are discussing the types of carseats not the lack thereof...I've seen several people riding down the highway with a young baby in their lap...

The point is that it is still unsafe to improperly secure a child in an improperly installed car seat.

Regarding forward vs rear-facing, I bet most of us that have chosen to keep our babies rear-facing past a year didn't know about the benefits of doing so until recently. I generally knew (through research via the internet of reputable websites) that it was safer, but I didn't realize just how much safer it was.

I don't know anyone who would call someone a bad mother for making a decision when they didn't know any better. The point of this is, now that the information has been made available, what will we do?

SomeOtherPersonWithWhomIGenerallyDisagree wrote:
Well if we want to get into the safety rating, then lets get into the car crash test safety ratings as well because if you are not driving the safest vehicle then you are putting your child in danger. Right?

The safety of various car seats depends on several factors. With the overhead shield type seats (see one here: http://www.walmart.com/catalog/product.do?product_id=4645515), it's difficult to secure the child tightly enough in the seat, and it's been shown that 5-point seats are safer. Seats of this type only have three points, making it more difficult to secure the child properly.

For the rest of the 5-point harness seats, the place where safety ratings come into play is mainly in installation.

Consumer Reports bases much of their ratings on ease of install and ease of use. A seat that is difficult to install is obviously more likely to be installed incorrectly. Incorrectly installing said seat means the child is at greater risk of injury, therefore, the seat ends up with a lower rating by Consumer Reports. A seat that is easy to install but makes it difficult to properly secure the child (for instance, our spare Evenflo) will have a lower rating, too. For Baby Bargains' ratings, factors like how the company handled prior recalls and customer service enter the picture as well.

The main reason those of us who have Britax seats recommend them so highly is that not only do they perform very well in crash tests, but they are easy to install correctly in many vehicles, and the harness is designed in such a way that a secure fit for the child is very easy, too.

I've had a Graco, a Cosco, an Evenflo, and a Britax. For ease of use, I infinitely prefer the Britax.

That said, a correctly installed seat with a secure fit for your child is the safest way to go, be that a Britax or any other brand.

SomeOtherPersonWithWhomIGenerallyDisagree wrote:
If you want to get into statistics, no one should be driving anyway, it is very unsafe just for you to put yourself behind the wheel let alone put your child(ren) at that risk.

I think we would all agree that in this area, cars and driving are a necessary evil.

Me again--here's my PM to the Administrator of the Most Sensitive Forum of the Year:

Her:

Thanks in Advance for your cooperation . . . .This forum is now LOCKED!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Me:

J, you know I love ya, but I have to express my displeasure at the locking of this thread.

It's a shame that it was not allowed to continue and resolve itself. Yeah, I'm probably miffed because I just spent an hour compiling a very polite post that included information on several seats (that I never got around to after discovering the thread was locked) and some deeper insight into how car seat safety ratings are established, and asking for clarification on some remarks, all without insulting anyone. I have the whole post copied and saved because it was a good one. LOL

The point is that people are going to read something into anything, and if someone wants to see "you're a bad mom" then they're gonna see it regardless of what is typed. Heck, it seems some people will translate "I think the sky is blue" into "you're a bad mom." :wink:

The locked topic was in a debate forum. If we are not allowed to make points and our debates are not allowed to complete themselves, then I fail to see how this forum will succeed. There are always going to be posts that get riled up on any message board (I oughta know, I've been on various boards for 7 years, and I think I've been through every debate topic to come up on a parenting board LOL), and they always resolve themselves. It may not be to the liking of everyone, but people do reach an understanding. I regret that that was not allowed to happen in this case. If threads that get heated continue to be shut down without resolution by the posters themselves, then I don't think this forum is going to get very far. Pretty soon no one will feel like they are able to express an opinion other than the one put forth by an original poster. The board will stagnate and that will be sad. I'm not speculating, I've seen it happen.

We are adults and fully capable of disagreeing without being hurtful. I didn't see anyone call names. I did see a poster asking for clarification of the comment "blah blah blah." Since it's usually meant as dismissive and disdainful of the quoted segment, I was going to ask for clarification of it in my post myself.

I didn't see anyone telling someone else that their kid's carseat was unsafe and nowhere did any poster call anyone else a bad mother. There is a lot of misinformation regarding car seats out there, and a lot of it was getting aired and corrected. I think the discussion was headed in a good direction. It's a shame it wasn't allowed to continue.

Even regarding the "not hurting others' feelings" rule for the board, I think it's a little impractical. It's inevitable that someone will get hurt over some perceived slight, and I think that's just one of the hazards of a written forum. I don't think a post should be pulled, edited, or locked because someone might get hurt when a post is misinterpreted.

Of course, all of this is just my opinion. ;)

Adding--I just noticed that the thread has been moved back to Parenting Concerns. Obviously I'm not an Admin, but I think it would have been just find to continue in the debate forum. It appears as though it was moved back to Parenting Concerns and then locked, which, IMO wasn't really fair to us as posters.

Normal me again. I was very tempted to add, after typing out all of that, then seeing how things went, "And there are some of us that are more articulate than others, and I see no reason why the inarticulate weenies should ruin it for the rest of us."

But I'm a good girl, so I didn't.

That said, my comments about stagnating forums are correct. As an example, my due date boards. Board A is very nice-nice, and no one disagrees on parenting things because they don't want to hurt feelings or make anyone feel like a bad mom or anything like that. Board B has some of the most unusual and noisiest debates on the Parenting Community. And we've debated it all. Board A is extremely slow these days, and there's nothing on it but "the baby cut another tooth" and "S/he's walking!" Board B is still having insightful and entertaining discussions on everything from WIC to Extended Nursing to American Idol to the lastest episode of Desperate Housewives. Board B used to be known as the "mean" board. Actually, after a car seat debate over there, in which Board B people came over and got snitty, it held on to the title of Mean Board. Anyway, I love Board B. Yeah, so we squabble and bitch and moan, but should one of our members be insulted by some other board, we've got their back. :)

2006-03-26T20:54:00.000-08:00

Because I need to know what kind of bra I am.

You Are a Sleek Black Bra!

Subtle, sophisticated, and classy.
You're not the first woman a man notices in the room...
But you're the one he remembers a week later.
You need a guy who will make a lasting impression on you too!

What Kind of Bra Are You?

The Bad Mom Complex

2006-03-22T08:45:00.000-08:00

It's alive and well.

We've all seen it. Someone asks, "When did you feed your baby meat?" The first person responds with, "Around a year," and the next person responds with, "I guess I'm a bad mom, but....etc, etc."

When did Bad Mom enter the equation? I didn't see it in the prior questions. I theorize that the bad mom excuse makes an appearance when a perfectly reasonable mom is suddenly finding herself uncomfortable with her decision. The sudden second guessing immediately sets off an alarm in every other mommy's brain because at some point, we've all felt that we're thought of as a bad mom by someone. Unfortunately, this requires the 493 responding posters to quote Bad Mom's post and reply with, "You're NOT a bad mom. I did such-and-such." This takes the focus off of the OP and turns the post into one long pat on the back thread for the so-called Bad Mom.

There's something we need to realize. Different does not equal bad. There are some things that are bad decisions, sure. Using an expired car seat, feeding a baby fruits and veggies at the ripe old age of three months, turning and infant's car seat around at 7 months because they're screaming at the top of their lungs, telling your kids you'll let the monster in the closet have them for breakfast if they don't stay in bed, CIO, and I even put formula feeding because somebody offered to pay for it (and and using that as the determining factor) when you've got two perfectly good breasts and no particular reason to avoid using them in the category.

That said, there's a world of difference between a bad decision and a Bad Mom. Not one of us (mothers) will make the best decisions or even the right decisions all of the time. That's just a fact of life. My kids might go out once or twice underdressed for the unpredictable Kansas weather. Bad decision of me to not bring a coat, but does it make me a bad mom? Of course not. If I were a bad mom, I wouldn't even have coats for them. Instead, as soon as we get done with what we're doing, or they become uncomfortable with the temperature, we go inside or home and warm up. Eeny might eat McD's chicken nuggets for lunch one day. Bad dietary decision? Sure. But the next day he'll have a healthy lunch of chicken and veggies. It'd be nice if we, as mothers, generally took a party line of, We're human, we'll make bad decisions from time to time, and that's okay. It's not something to strive for, more something to understand and accept.

I put "I'm a bad mom" posts in the same category as, "If this is the way everyone feels, I'll leave the group because I don't want to be somewhere when people don't agree with me." Silly, and emotional blackmail, because it takes the focus off the disagreement and turns it into a "Love me" fest. I'm the first to admit that I usually don't know how to handle it when people disagree with me. It's uncomfortable. Why? Because it means that I might be wrong. It doesn't mean I am wrong, just that it's possible I might be. I don't like being wrong. I don't know anyone who does. It's just that it's possible, if someone else holds the opposite strong belief that I do, that they might be right, and I might not.

My feelings are not reality. I can feel that someone doesn't like me, but that doesn't make it true. When I make 5 phone calls and none of my friends and chat buddies are home, it might feel like no one likes me or is there for me, but that hardly makes it the case. So I can feel like there's a possibility that I might be wrong, but that doesn't make it true.

Hmmmm...

2006-03-20T16:22:00.000-08:00

I could handle this:

You Belong in Rome

You're a big city girl with a small town heart
Which is why you're attracted to the romance of Rome
Strolling down picture perfect streets, cappuccino in hand
And gorgeous Italian men - could life get any better?

What City Do You Belong In?

I went to Friend H's house today to finish laying out The Rooster's quilt. Then I decided I didn't like the fabric I'd picked out to alternate between the cute little rails of fabric. Picture when it's done.

Here's the sling I made for the Rooster yesterday:

I can see where it needs some work, and for the next one I do, I'll remember that.

Great news--Friend A is pregnant!!! :) She and her husband have been trying for over a year. I'm so happy for them!

Yay! A snuggly newborn I don't have to gestate and deliver! :D

...and there was much rejoicing.

2006-03-18T19:27:00.000-08:00

The Bitch got her envelope today. This is what I put in it. :)

In case you can't tell, it's a recipe for Emu Surprise.

Yes, I'm weird.

This kid...

2006-03-18T08:49:00.000-08:00

...took his first steps today. :)

Yay!

2006-03-15T11:46:00.000-08:00

I went to a LLL meeting on the other side of town. I met another Gerry fan. Yay! I'm not the only freak in My Fair City. :D

The Trainwreck has done it. The Trainwreck was supposed to have been the third partner in The Practice (doula work). Her communication has been iffy from the beginning, but as of today, she's out. She spent TWO HUNDRED freaking DOLLARS on a domain name for us. A step we were not yet ready to take. Ack, ack, ack. More later. I'm currently sending an envelope containing something hilarious to one of the Bitches. :) I'm not saying what it is in case she reads this. Maybe if people left comments, I'd know. :P

It's my 150th post!

2006-03-12T22:54:00.000-08:00

Since it is my 150th entry, I was going to do a list of all things 15o. However, Strong Bad has only answered 147 emails, so that plan has fallen through.

I will, however, blog about several things.

1) It is rude of DarthHusband to interrupt a sex dream involving Guess Who on a morning I'm supposed to be sleeping in, and deposit a baby in my arms and claim, "He's hungry and needs a nap." That always ends the dream. Too bad.

2) I'm thinking of things. I've come to the conclusion that I just don't know where the boundaries in my marriage are or should be. We're in the midst of a renegotiation of them, and it's not particularly comfortable. The biggest disservice growing up in the Church has done my marriage is the idea that the Christian Wife submits to her husband translating into The Christian Wife becoming a doormat.

So, I'm thinking of stuff like this:

--If I have not gotten to the laundry or the dishes, and dinner is not ready, you have two choices: You may occupy the children without complaining, or you can do those chores yourself, also without complaining. I do what I can when you're gone, but once you're home, it's time to pitch in.

--You may not take off for your evening bathroom visit while both children are still in high chairs. You're not the only one who needs to pee and get ready to put small children to bed.

That's it for now. I think we're coming up on some actual boundary defining, and that's a positive thing.

Not going...

2006-03-06T23:48:00.000-08:00

On my trip to my workshop. Eeny's still pretty freaked out about DH's ER trip. He left for work this morning, and Eeny said, "Daddy went to the hospitabil? Daddy's sick?" and he started crying. I felt so badly for him. I think it would be cruel of me to take off on a four day trip when he's never been away from me for more than a night before.

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In other news, the Gerry Butler references have returned! I'm playing Six Degrees of Gerard Butler here: http://oracleofbacon.org/star_links.html

So far, I've found exactly one actor with more than two degrees--Cuba Gooding. Not Junior.

Even Connie Booth (ex-wife of John Cleese) has only two degrees of separation from him. Regardless of whether he intends to, Master Gerry gets around.

After an hour of playing (I need a hobby), I've found someone with more than two degrees!

"The Oracle says: Gerard Butler has a Cary Grant number of 3.

Gerard Butler was in Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) with Julian Rhind-Tutt
Julian Rhind-Tutt was in Rabbit Fever (2005) with John Standing (I)
John Standing (I) was in Walk Don't Run (1966) with Cary Grant"

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Off to bed for me, then.

"The Epi-pen is deceptive."

2006-03-05T22:04:00.000-08:00

So said DarthHusband to me yesterday, upon his release from the Emergency Room. Thank God for that deceptive little pen. It saved his life. He had another reaction yesterday morning. We don't really know what it was that triggered it. It might have been the apple, or it could have been the bite of chocolate processed in a facility that also processes nuts. At any rate, he told me he thought he might have to use his pen. Within seconds, his arms were breaking out in a rash, and his nose turned bright red while his face went pale. He gave himself his injection, and I called 911.

EMS arrived within about 5 minutes, and the pen and the Benadryl were doing their job. His skin was clearing up, and his airway stayed open. His blood pressure was practically perfect when taken at the house by EMS, and aside from being a little jittery from the epinephrine, he seemed okay.

Eeny was watching Finding Nemo when they arrived. The Rooster stayed on my hip the whole time, which is unusual for Mister Must. Get. Down. One of the firefighters tried to talk to Eeny a little bit. The kid was having none of it. He got into his toybox and sat there and gave the firefighter monosyllabic answers. Then, he remained glued to the window while they put DH on the gurney and into the back of the ambulance. After it left, he cried for Daddy a few times, but otherwise seemed okay.

I would have taken him to the ER myself, seeing as how we're only 5 minutes away, but we've been chained to the bathroom this week, and Saturday was no exception. We also ran out of toilet paper. Yes, you can laugh. It's funny. Fortunately, my parents were already on their way with TP and Powerade by the time the reaction started.

Eeny acted out a bit the rest of the day. New thing: he can now say "paramedic."

We told him Daddy got sick and he went to the hospital to make him feel better. Having him come home that day helped, I think. He was still scared and wouldn't go to him for the first hour or two. It made DH feel really bad. The Rooster, on the other hand, had zero qualms about going to Daddy. As soon as DH woke up from his Benadryl nap, Rooster crawled over to him, pulled up on the couch beside him, and put the Motrin syringe (the needle-free kind for all of the uber-safety concerned) into DH's mouth. It was adorable:

Anyway, after a few minutes, and the promise of another showing of Finding Nemo (this time without an ambulance to interrupt it), Eeny snuggled up beside Dh to eat his oatmeal and watch his "fish movie." My poor baby. He's such a sensitive kid. I really hope this hasn't hurt him. A friend of mine's a play therapist. I'll have to ask her what to do next.

As to why the Epi-pen is deceptive, DarthHusband was expecting a small lancet, not unlike the autoclick my aunt had for blood sugar testing. He put the pen on his leg, pushed the button, held it for the required ten seconds, and pulled it out. And kept pulling. He was not expecting a 2 inch needle. He kept it with him while he went to the hospital. The staff there asked him why. Generally considerate father that he is, he said he didn't want to leave it anywhere at home where the children could get it.

At any rate, this allergic reaction stuff is obnoxious. I'm now sharing in my husband's nervousness, and eating is starting to make both of us nervous. Every time I have the tiniest itch, I get worried it's a reaction. It might be a good idea for me to eventually see someone about this freakish anxiety business.

We have to get the allergy testing redone. DH was in the early stages of meningitis when he was tested, and the ER doc said that since he's apparently reacted both times to things that were not tested for, it might be a good idea to get them done again, as the meningitis could have skewed the results. My paranoid self is wanting allergy testing for the whole family, just to double check and make sure we can keep everyone in as much check as possible.
:::sigh:::

This isn't much fun.

So, we have these issues, see...

2006-03-03T23:00:00.000-08:00

I was 16 when I met DarthHusband. He was 21. We started dating when I was 17, got engaged at 18, and got married two months after I turned 20. We found out I was pregnant right after I turned 21, and I got pregnant again at 22, had The Rooster at 23, and here I am at 24, and I'm realizing some things.

I grew up with a very strong father figure. My dad was a student, and worked really long hours trying to finish up his doctorate. Even though he wasn't often around in the evenings, he was at the plays, games, and school events. His rules and his presence were felt, even if he wasn't there. Don't get me wrong, I have an awesome dad. He's smart, he's funny, and he knows how to talk me through my anxiety (something DH has never learned how to do), and he loves me very much.

Unfortunately, I never really got to see him and my mom in action together. I didn't really see the division of labor, as it were. I do remember him pitching in easily around the house (still does), and getting things cleaned up, and making dinner, all without being told.

I guess what happened in my case is that DH took over some of the fathering roles. I had only lived by myself for six months before we got married. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I'd chosen to stay living by myself and we'd broken up....

Like the ribbon? It's my Two Years of Breastfeeding award. I like it. I think I shall put it in the margins, since I have just recently figured out this html business.

No Gerry Butler Reference Today

2006-03-01T10:33:00.000-08:00

Eeny just informed me he watched “Tickle-y Town Heroes.” It’s really Higglytown Heroes, and I hate that show. But I’m in here on the computer, doing Useful and Important things. Okay, not really. I’m putting off going downstairs to get Eeny’s shorts so he can go outside and take advantage of the weather. It’s 75 today. I’m feeling “a whole lot better,” at least I will if I can get some protein into me. DarthHusband has been taken down by an ugly stomach bug, and it seems he got what I had. Ugh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update from later this evening.

My mom took Eeny to his very first dance class tonight (I'm exhausted, and now Brandon's got The Sickness). Okay, so according to Daddy, who is Manly and Stuff, it's "gross motor movement" and it's called "Hop, Skip, Jump," but he was the only boy in a room full of pink tutus, so it's a damn dance class.

Anyway, she said he did really well for having never been in a group class before, and he really liked getting a car stamp on his hand. I asked him if he had dance class tonight, and he said yes. Then I asked him if he liked dance class. His response?

"I love dancing ballet."

Heh. That's my boy.

Take that, Daddy.

In other news, The Rooster has lately been holding a small squish pillow above his head, then flinging it down to the floor, and simultaneously landing on top of it, face first. This works really well, and is a crack up to watch, that is, until he decides to try this on the hardwood floor in the living room, and forgets to toss the pillow first. The poor baby has a nice big purple bruise, right in the middle of his forehead.

In still more other news, Eeny hung out at my dad's office a little tonight, and we've now discovered his first Big Fear. My eldest son is afraid of....................... (drumroll please).....................................
......................chickens. Yes, chickens.

Mom told me he got very upset at the sight of the Fisher~Price barn and farm yard, and started talking about the chickens behind the fence and saying he was scared of the chickens. I'd forgotten--when we were at the zoo last week in the petting section, he walked over to the outside of the fowl pen and was promptly rushed by a goose. Fortunately, a long talk about how there are no chickens in our house, and a few rounds of the "That Chicken's Got the Hiccups" song by The Wiggles seem to have done the trick for tonight.

Not a Kidney Infection

2006-02-28T21:43:00.000-08:00

Instead, it's either the flu or a nasty virus that's been going around. And now, for your Gerard Butler Reference of the Day (drumroll, please): I wonder if he's had it.

There. You may all now stop holding your breath.

My fever went up tonight to 100.7, which is "I feel like ass" territory. It's come down with some ibuprofen and adequate hydration. Hmph. These bodies of ours are so dang picky. Always needing food, water, and sleep. Demanding, demanding, demanding. I've been too tired to eat the last few days, and I've had zero appetite. Hence, a brand new, 10-pound weightloss. Not exactly how I wanted to get my weight down, but I'll take it for now.

I promised Eeny he could do Pilates with me tomorrow, if I feel up to it. He's very excited about it.

The Rooster has decided that since he has now figure out how to manipulate all of his limbs, save his legs (without using the furniture for balance, that is), he is now big enough to start doing his own stunts. Seriously. DarthHusband bought him a tshirt that reads, "I do my own stunts." Today, the child picks up a pillow, throws it (over his head) in front of him, and flings himself down on it, arms up, face first. Then, when the pillow got old, he went to the carpet in Eeny's room and did the same thing, sans pillow, on the carpet.

He also stuck Mr. Potato Head's eyes into the ear socket all by himself.

Eeny danced around today singing about how he's playing his guitar with Murray. That's child's adorable. A run to the doctor's office for a urine sample today meant we missed this morning's episode of The Wiggles. Good thing we have two on DVD-R. No. Really.

In planning for this year's Halloween costume, I think I shall send him as a Wiggle. Perhaps even the revered Murray.

In other news, according to the nurse at the doc's office, if I'm not feeling "a whole lot better" tomorrow, I'm to come in and be seen. Then they'll want to see something besides my urine.

DarthHusband's going back to work tomorrow...here's to "feeling a whole lot better."

My Happy Bunny and more of the day's adventures

2006-02-27T22:31:00.000-08:00

it's all about me. deal with it.

Who's Your Happy Bunny?
brought to you by Quizilla

It's my Happy Bunny!

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The Rooster has made the dive into solid foods with gusto. I was eating chicken soup today (I have a possible kidney infection and I feel like crap), and he pulled up on the couch next to me and smacked his lips three times. I made TheHusband feed him. Heh.

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Eeny, at 3am, sounding alert, bright, and cheerful:
Hey Mom!

Me: Mmrff?

E: I want bread!

Me: Mmm..bread?

E: Mommy feels yucky? Mommy feels hot. Hot. Hm, I'm hot. Hot bread. Toast is hot.

Me (the height of grogginess): Uh-huh.

E: I want toast!

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In my feverish haze, I spent the 8 o'clock hour flipping back and forth between a DVD-R'd 7th Heaven and Cinemax's showing of The Phantom of the Opera.

Gerry Butler is a handsome, handsome man. Even with half of his face distorted, I like. Having his shirt open halfway down his chest more than made up for the make up job.

I've decided I shall try and include one Gerard Butler reference in every post. I think I'll do this to see how long it takes other Gerry fans to find it. Maybe I can hook them into reading the details of my oh so fascinating life.

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Possible kidney infection fun: Doc doesn't call back after I've called the office at two complaining of a fever (if you must know, it's 99.5, but since my normal temperature's 96.3, that translates my 99.5 into something closer to 102.7 for the average mere mortal), lower back pain, and general crap for crappiness, and it's after five. I feel like total crap, and since I hate feeling like crap, and furthermore, the wellbeing of two small urchins depends on my not feeling like crap, I call the office again at 10 to 6. They page the doc, who calls me back 40 minutes later to tell me to bring in a urine sample in the morning. If he runs a pregnancy test on it, I shall be most displeased. The peed-on stick of two days ago indicated that is an impossibility.

The fatigue from this stupid illness is very similar to first trimester of pregnancy tiredness, but there's no fever with that.

Medical websites should not post things like, "The result of an untreated kidney infection is blood poisoning and death," without clarifying some sort of time frame. "Yes, if you let this go for a week and a half, you'll turn septic, but two days isn't going to send you over the edge." I think that would do quite nicely, don't you?

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I'm sleeping on the couch tonight, but I'm avoiding going to sleep. Sleeping with a fever is a guaranteed wake up feeling hot and oogie deal. Of all the things I hate, I hate feeling hot and oogie. Eeny's sleeping with DarthHusband in the bed which is too hard for my feverish self, and I'm about to go bring Rooster out to the couch with me, although I think I'll put him on his floor cushion (foam, flat, and kid friend) until he wakes up for the first time. I don't want to be touched. I want to feel better. ::::whine::::

2006-02-25T20:44:00.000-08:00

I’m tired. And cranky. Very cranky. AF #2 since Rooster’s birth, and it hasn’t been very kind to me in the hormonal department. I hate it when I’m a bitch, but at this time, I don’t really have the energy to be anything but.

Rooster has started shaking his head “no.” He does it for fun, and it’s freaking adorable. Usually when someone’s talking about how Eeny is going to do something, he starts the shaking, with a big grin, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing. He calls me Mama. Eeny didn’t use Mama to mean me until well after a year old. This is nice. :) He’s such a snuggly little monkey. He’s getting closer to walking, but he still has this thing about moving that foot forward. Since he was crawling at 5 months, I’d held out hope for an early walker. No dice. I can almost guarantee this kid won’t walk before he turns one (April 5th).

Eeny is a crack up. TheHusband was putting him down for a nap today, and from his bedroom I hear, “No, Daddy! No, no, no, no, no! No take a nap! I need to play with my belly button!” Kinda hard to argue with that logic. Then tonight, while getting ready for bed (and this is a big cognitive thing), he was speaking in a very muffled tone, and DH asked, “Why does your voice sound like that?” Eeny answered, “I’ve got muffin in my mouth.” I’m so impressed. He’s 31 months old. Three is just around the corner. I can’t believe it. Three just seems so…well…big.

Of Masks, Milla Jovovich, and Gerard Butler

2006-02-24T12:21:00.000-08:00

The Rooster is walking a dinosaur up my leg. In the opening words of every “Charlie and Lola” show, “he is small, and very funny.” He is, too.

Eeny’s arranged his dinosaurs very neatly around the tv. There are three easily accessible flat surfaces in the living room, and he picks the most complicated of the three. My child is a genius. LOL

DH is neither small, nor particularly funny. On purpose, that is. He was diagnosed with severe sleep apnea two weeks ago. His CPAP (it’s a breathing machine) arrived the night before last. Thanks to our insurance company’s fondness for red tape and paperwork, the medical supply company had to wait until they got approval from the insurance company before they could ship it. Said approval took a week. I’m sorry, how hard is it for someone to look at the information (28 year old male with sats consistently in the 70s during an apnea episode, with well over 800 of these episodes a night), and say yes. I’m cranky from a week longer than necessary of snoring, tossing and turning, and a husband who has finally discovered that there’s a reason for his exhaustion, and it’s not his schedule. It’s been a looooong few months.

So anyway, the machine has arrived. It fits well, he sleeps well with it, and the only complication we’ve had with it is that Eeny won’t stay in his usual spot, right next to TheHusband’s arm, in the middle of the night. The kids sleep with us. As long as at least one of them sleeps well, it works for us. We have a king sized bed, and there’s room for everybody. The addition of the mask to our sleep routine has temporarily (I hope) disrupted that. We discussed the option of giving it a name. Something that appeals to a two year old, that might make it less scary. We’re also weird people who occasionally name personal possessions. Case in point: I update this blog on a Dell Inspiron christened Lappy, after Strong Bad’s latest model.

Anyway, TheHusband shot down Masky (never really on the table to begin with) and Dylan. Why Dylan? I don’t know. I probably had some crazy association due to watching an SNL rerun with Jason Priestley as host. Of course, I was several years too young to fully appreciate the glories of 90210, but I could identify all of the main cast members. Anyway, Dylan has been vetoed. Then, TheHusband said if anything’s going to be on his face all night, it’s going to have a woman’s name. He suggested Milla (as in Jovovich). I told him if he did that, I’d get myself a “toy” and name it Gerard (Butler). Not so funny when the shoe’s on the other foot now, is it, Husband, eh?

He does have a thing for Milla Jovovich. It doesn’t really bug me, unless I stop to consider that I am sooo not her type. He’s a Milla in “The Fifth Element” fan. The tall, rail thin, bright blue eyes, and meh sized rack just get to him. It amuses me to no end that he ended up with me. I’m tall, but not overly so. I used to be pretty thin, but I’ve had two babies. I’m not fat, I’m just bigger than I used to be. He’s soooo not a boob guy. I have a set designed to impress. I’ll consider a reduction someday after we’re done having kids. The H-cup plus the 34 band size makes for a sometimes uncomfortable combination. On the other hand, it looks pretty darn good on me. I’ll keep them for now.

The worst drawback to the mask as apnea treatment I can think of is that it puts an end to the surprise middle of the night sex sessions. They’re how we got the Rooster, and I’ll be sad to see them go. Not like there’s been too much of that around here anyway. Please mentally add a heavy sigh after reading that sentence. That’s also been the worst side effect of the apnea in general. How many men are legitimately “too tired” for sex? I mean really, how annoying. I thought I was supposed to be the one fending off advances several times a week. No, instead, our evenings go with me making some sort of advance, and him shooting me down in about 5 seconds flat. I sincerely hope that once he gets used to the mask, and is actually getting some good sleep, he’ll have a sex drive again. I’ve reached consensus with Ani and Beej. I’m tall, nice, have a great chest and the ass isn’t half bad either, an extremely reasonable sex drive, and I put up with waaaaay more shit than I should. Which of these qualities is not to like in one's spouse?

I'm back

2006-02-19T00:05:00.000-08:00

It's been a while. Things have been busy. TheHusband has Obstructive Sleep Apnea. I'm listening to him choke and struggle to breathe over the baby monitor now. He's very excited about getting his CPAP machine. He's looking forward to being able to breathe and actually get beyond stage one sleep for once.

The Gerard Butler fascination continues. Dang, he's hot.

I went to the Women's Fair today, with C (business partner and friend). We've nicely networked ourselves into some free advertising. :D Yay us! We had to park at the local baseball stadium, and a shuttle service was provided. The shuttle service was intelligent enough to provide us with eye candy drivers. C and I hopped on the bus and had the lovely opportunity to swoon. Shuttle Driver number one was vurra vurra nice. Shuttle Driver Number Two was also very nice, and it turns out I knew him from college. If I'd married him, I could have had redheaded children. C seemed impressed by my knowing the eye candy.

TheHusband and I have just been released from our last free session of marriage counseling. It's been a very positive thing. Now, if he'll just get some sleep so his sex drive can return, I'll be a happy woman.....

A Day in the Life of...

2006-01-01T22:14:00.000-08:00

Our house. My New Year's Resolution--update this thing more often.

The Rooster has an ear infection. Eeny hasn't ever had one, so we're on new turf. Rooster's on amoxicillin for it. He did really well the first few days, but today has given me zero cooperation.

Our Adventure in Infant Medication:

Step 1: Attempt to squirt medication via syringe into Squirming Hollering Infant's cheek.

Step 2: Wipe bright pink staining medication off of Infant's mouth, head, and outfit, then off of self, the couch, and brand new shirt.

Step 3: Since the syringe obviously isn't working, try putting a little bit in a baby spoon and see if he'll bite.

Step 4: Oh, he bites all right. No really. I'd like the spoon back, please. Stop waggling it at me and giggling. You're getting pink stuff everywhere.

Step 5: Wipe bright pink staining medication off of Infant's mouth, head, and outfit, then off of self, the high chair, and brand new shirt.

Step 6: Out of desperation, think to mix meds with prunes. Cautiously edge spoon to infant's mouth.

Step 7: After prying spoon from Infant's teeth, wipe Prun-icillin from self, brand new shirt, jeans, table, and hair.

Step 8: Put mixture in the fridge for an hour or so later, and acknowledge that an 8 month old has beaten me.

Step 9: Deposit amoxi-prune-covered Infant in bathtub, and watch him expend large amounts of energy crawling back and forth and splashing. Attempt to scrub mixture from Infant's face and end up realizing that the brand new shirt will never be the same again, and the bathroom floor really needs a good mopping.

Step 10: Convince Infant that the bathtub is worth leaving by surreptitiously pulling the plug. Realize the towel has been forgotten and rush dripping Infant through the house to the room, where it is realized that the only clean dry thing resembling a towel is a flannel receiving blanket.

Step 11: Dry Infant with receiving blanket amid gales of baby laughter that is almost certainly at Mommy and not with Mommy. Diaper.

Step 12: Take cute pictures of Infant with Flock of Seagulls 'do, then another of Infant with a mohawk, then another of the Infant attacking Mommy with kisses.

Step 13: Stuff protesting infant into sleeper.

Step 14: Nurse infant to sleep and hope he'll stay that way long enough for his clothes to be thrown in the washer, then despair of him ever getting to wear cute little "Born at Home" t-shirt in public again.

Now that that's done, some Eenyisms:

Eeny: Where's Jeff?
(Jeff's the Purple Wiggle, for those unaware of the details of children's television)
Me: I don't know.
Eeny (knowingly): Sleepin da countryside.
Me: He is? Oh good.
Eeny (emphatically): Sleepin da countryside.
Me: Where's Jeff?
Eeny: Sleepin da countryside. Sleepin da backseat. Oh, big red car.

My pint-sized Wiggles fan has also decided that no one may sleep if he's awake. Someone sleeping results in:

Eeny: Rooster sleeping.

Me: Yes, Rooster's sleeping. Please use your quiet voice.

Eeny: Rooster sleeping. Let's wake 'im up.

Me (hoarse whisper): Ack! No! Shhhhhhh!!!!

Eeny (waaaay too enthusiastically): Ooooooone! Twooooooooooo! THREE! WAKE UP
ROOSTER!!!!!

Rooster: ::::cracking one eye::::

Me: Whew! Eeny, you must be quiet. Rooster is taking a nap.

Eeny: No, Rooster wake up. WAKE UP ROOSTER!

Rooster: :::baby grumbling, progressing to a full-fledged yell::::

Me: Why couldn't you sing "Rock a Bye Your Bear?" Argh.

Happy New Year!

2005-12-31T21:33:00.000-08:00

So in review, we've had the following happen:

The Rooster joined our family in our bathroom after three hours of hard labor.

Eeny turned two, and threw himself with gusto into the Doings and Behaviors of the Two Year Old.

TheHusband got meningitis while my parents were out of the country, and all of our baby sitters had to work, and all of our other baby sitters were pregnant or had just had babies and no way in heck did I want to let them around our family while DH was that sick.

We had to re-home the dogs. TheHusband took over a month to recover fully from his illness, and I simply was incapable of caring for two large dogs and two small children and a slowly convalescing husband. He was very sad, but he understood.

I came out of the depression I'd been dealing with for some time (situational rather than clinical).

Eeny discovered The Wiggles.

I attended my first two births as a doula, and found my other calling (Motherhood being my first).

I turned 24.

I learned my friend C is moving to the area. Yay! :)

I experienced the generosity of what TheHusband no longer calls "binary friends" in my July Moms email loop providing a wonderful Christmas for us.

I learned that it is perfectly normal at the onset of winter to have at least one person in the family sick for two months straight. ::::hack::::cough::::choke::::sniff:::

Since we have, as my dad puts it, the dreaded lurgy the dreaded lurgy (British & Australian, humorous) --
an illness that is not serious but passes easily from person to person. "My throat is sore and my head hurts. I think I've caught the dreaded lurgy." We have been prevented from participating in New Year's festivities. That's actually okay, because our other option was to go to the house of friends who have two very large dogs who have no boundaries when it comes to small children, and our dear friends don't quite seem to get that it's not terribly cute or appropriate for a large Rottie/Lab mix to stick his nose two inches from Eeny's face. They hope to have a baby this year, and hopefully they'll understand when they have a human baby of their own.

My across the street neighbors suck. It sounds like the OK Corral out there. Happy New Year. Now please stop setting fire to small explosives--we're in the middle of a burn ban.

Welcome 2006!

Laaaaaaaaaazy

2005-12-29T22:39:00.000-08:00

I've been so bad about updating.

We've all been sick. I'm so sick of having sickness in the house. It started with the stomach bug in November. Then it was a little cold. Then it was another stomach bug, worse than the first one, but Rooster was thankfully spared the indignity of spewing every last ounce of liquid from his chunky little body. Loosely translated: Mummy was very glad to have avoided being thrown up on in the middle of the night.

Then, everyone was well for three days, and Rooster came down with The Cold From Hell. My cousin, a pediatrician, listened to us over the phone and heard my description of the night before. She said he probably had bronchiolitis. Ick. He's recovering, but we're all still phlegmy. Dang, I hate phlegm.

Christmas was good for TheHusband and the boys. They all got tons of stuff they wanted. I got the Betty Crocker Bake and Fill set I requested, and two Old Navy gift cards. I shouldn't be an ungrateful bitch, but I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally wanted the toddler bag I asked for. I didn't get it. My purse is falling apart, and I do need a new bag. I'm just picky as all get out.

You know you're a mom when

2005-12-15T11:19:00.000-08:00

you put your morning coffee into one of your child's gazillion sippy cups because all of your travel mugs are dirty, and you know the sippy won't spill in the car.

Outta the mouths of babes

2005-12-09T00:53:00.000-08:00

At Barnes and Noble this evening, Christmas shopping, Eeny sees a young man in a leather jacket.

His eyes light up as he exclaims, "Johnny Cash rocks!" with an enormous grin.

Some people

2005-11-17T20:22:00.000-08:00

Should not be permitted to have the cars they do. I got stuck the other day behind a brand-spanking-new BMW Z4. This is a sporty car. This is a car that is meant to be driven. With a 2.5L Inline 6, this is not a car that's meant to be driven slowly. The speed limit on this particular stretch of road was 35mph.

The Twit Driver of said car was, according to my speedometer, going a paltry 31mph. Let us now factor in my speedometer's inaccuracy. It's two miles fast. That means that instead of going an already slow 31, this driver was driving along at a painful 29. Twenty-freaking-nine miles per hour in a vehicle that's meant to be driven at speeds much greater.

It was annoying. Twit Driver hung up her cell phone and still continued to drive like an 80 year old on her monthly trip to the grocery store. @@

bawm chicka bawm bawm

2005-11-13T22:26:00.000-08:00

The kids napped at the same time today. I had planned to sneak out and see the new babies, but TheHusband had other plans.

'Nuff said.

Until Thursday: The Week in Review

2005-11-10T22:19:00.000-08:00

Sunday--miss birthday party to doula Friend L's VBA2C of a 9lb baby

Monday--prepare for my parents' garage sale

Tuesday--my birthday--greet internet Friend C from out of town, just after discovering that a kid at my brother's school has whooping cough--guess who helped watch my kids while I was with my laboring Friend L? Panic, before talking to parents and seeing official notification email from school, then call doctor and make sure antibiotics are called in just in case. Friend C's youngest (3 weeks older than Rooster) starts throwing up.

Wednesday--Friend C's youngest finally stops throwing up, but our collective older children (3.5, 2.3, and 2) attempt to tear each other limb from limb and include my house in the destruction. Talk to nurses at doctor's office again and get reassured that two breastfed children of my boys' ages and size are unlikely to get whooping cough anyway from this type of exposure, regardless of vax status, much less a severe case. Feel slightly better. Friend C's eldest child starts acting crabby and breaks out in what appear to be Chickie Pops.

Thursday--Definitely Chickie Pops. Get call from Friend M's husband saying Friend M is being rushed to hospital for "urgent c-section," as the baby has decided to get her cord wrapped around her neck while in the breech position, and yes, they're aware chicken pox are a possibility here, but even so I'm on the top of the call list should Aunt not do so well with Friend M's son. Friend C decides to take sick little monkeys and head home, but not before deciding to rent townhouse across the street, which is A-OK by me. :) It wasn't a dream, we really do get along well together. Brandon gets home and all is well until halfway through cooking dinner, when Eeny pukes his guts up for the First Time Ever, but certainly not the last. His current count is three.

Note: Vomited refried beans are nasty.

Call doctor and speak with on-call since mine's out of town, and explain that Eeny is not vaxed for whooping cough, which is why I wanted the antibiotics in the first place. Blow right past doc's perplexed sounding, "Let me get this straight, he hasn't had ANY DTaP?" and inform him that I think stopping antibiotics (he's only had three doses) until the stomach bug is gone and then restarting them, especially if it's only 24 hours, is the best course of action, and in turn, blithely ignore doc's incredulity at hearing that a 2 year old is still receiving breastmilk. DH, lovely and worthy man that he is, volunteers to sit with Sick Toddler all night, reaffirming my choice to have marry him in the first place. I call my mom, to tell her that no way in heck am I coming over tomorrow to help with the garage sale unless she comes up with a miracle cure for the Puking Boy Wonder. She tells me she understands and that she's hit a deer and is waiting for a tow truck, so would I mind calling back later? Toddler pees in the potty before getting spectacularly sick again, prompting me to offer to eventually buy him Thomas and Friends underpants.

All of this is a wee bit overwhelming. That said, in order to arrange my thoughts, I've come to the following conclusion:

If vomiting weren't so upsetting to my poor child, I'd prefer he did that instead of ever getting a runny nose.

Throwing up is dramatic, done all at once, and gets the ickiness out so it can be taken care of in one fell swoop.

Nose-running is long, annoying, gooey, and revolting, requiring me to follow a recalcitrant toddler around all day with a Kleenex, demanding that he stop long enough for me to wipe that disgusting slug track off.

I think I shall fall over.

Happy Birthday to Me

2005-11-08T22:40:00.000-08:00

Four words: Possible Whooping Cough Exposure. @@

For the boys, unfortunately. I think I'll call the doctor tomorrow and ask about their risk. A kid at my brother's school has it, and my kids hang out with my brother.....

Wehaddababyeetzaboy

2005-11-07T09:28:00.000-08:00

Friend had her baby!

He's a gorgeous red-headed, blue-eyed little kiddie, and I love him. :) She is feeling terrific, which is awesome, because her labor was over 20 hours long.

She's a bit of a curiosity in the hospital now. She said there have been tons of doctors and nurses poking their heads in to see the 9-pound baby delivered vaginally after two prior c-sections.

She was getting tired at the end, and the OB offered to use forceps if she wanted, but I convinced her to wait another two or three contractions before trying them. After the third contraction, the OB said, "This is where we usually take the forceps off." She'd done it! :) We are SO thrilled for her.

:::skeeve:::shudder::::barf::::

2005-11-03T22:44:00.000-08:00

Something in my living room has been whiffy. I couldn't figure out what it was. I thought that when I changed Rooster's diaper on the couch, and set the wet on the back of it, that TheHusband had removed it. Maybe he didn't and it was buried in the cushions. I checked all of the cushions and the trash can.

Sure enough--one wet dipe that hadn't been folded properly. Eeeeew. This does not happen on a regular basis. In fact, I daresay this is a first. Still, the whiffyness remained.

This evening, on Day Three of what is now The Stench, and I reach under the middle cushion on our sectional, thinking that perhaps a diaper got stuck under there. I don't know how it could have happened, but it smells. My hand feels nothing, but I decide to lift the cushion and double check.

Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.

:::::::::::::skeeve:::::::::::::

It's a dead mouse.

I hate dead mice almost as much as live spiders (I made TheHusband off one of them this evening, too). Squished, stinky, crusty dead mice are pretty darn high up on the list of things that make me want to vomit. We've just recently come through our first cold snap of the season. I thought the traps in the den had been a wee bit more active than usual (how's three of the little vermin in a week?). Eeeeeuuugh.

TheHusband, brave, heroic, and strong stomached man that he is, removed the mouse for me. It had gotten stuck on the bar that holds the two sides of the couch together. The only thing that could have happened to crush the wee beastie was one of us sitting on the couch just as it crawled onto the bar. This leaves me with two thoughts:

1) There's impeccable timing for you
and
2) My ass may be a mouse-murderer

I shall contemplate these things later....

Eeny is hitting Rooster a lot. It's getting on my nerves. I think I'll start taking him to playgroup by himself so that he can have some Mommy time. Sometimes I miss it being just the two of us. I took him with me to a consignment shop today to drop off outgrown clothes, and it was so fun to have him with me. :)

Rooster has just awakened for the night, followed by his brother. This kid needs to stop trying to pull up on anything that will hold still for a second. He's going to get bruises on his cute little face.

He was crying until I came into the room. Even though it was completely dark, he quieted down as soon as I came in. He started cooing when I reached for him, and he's now sitting on my lap blowing raspberries as I try to finish typing this.

These kids are cute. I think I shall keep them.

Friend needs to go into labor. She's 41 weeks pregnant and miserable. I feel so badly for her. She had a good BPP today, and she feels fine. I just hope for her sake that it's soon. She's getting annoyed with all of the comments.

Stupid

2005-11-02T23:21:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am resentful. Probably bitter, too. I have this thing, you see. I think that a grown man of 28 years should be able to pick up the phone and call utility companies and places like medical offices. But noooooooo. TheHusband called me tonight after having finished all of his school conferences. When he has nothing to do, he likes to just sit on the phone and force me to make conversation. He'll say, "Soooooooooo........." and either wait for me to talk, or ramble endlessly about what color he'd like to paint the walls when we win the lottery and he gets to remodel the house (can we say Dreamland?). Nevermind that if I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times, it's a seriously stupid move to put $30,000 worth of work and remodeling into a house that will top out at $90,000 in the midst of a real estate boom, and I have absolutely no plans to let that happen, so let's not hear about it, thanks.

So I told him I was in the middle of dinner with a fussy, teething (doesn't he have something better to do?) baby on my lap. So then I remember that I need to call the gas company and have them come out and check our line because I smelled gas earlier today, and the friend I had over smelled it, too. I figure, if he's sitting on his arse at the school with nothing to do (he had to wait 30 minutes until everyone else was done so they could all leave at the same time), the least he could do is call the nifty 1-800 number and report the stupid gas smell. I ask him, he whines and whines about how I should do it.

Um, I'm eating dinner. You have 20 minutes until you can leave and you're all ready to go. YOU call. But I'm Nice, so I end up calling. @@ Gas leak smell turned out to be nothing, but I'm still steamed. Why, you ask? Maybe I'm miffed that $107 turns out to be too much to spend on groceries for three people (Rooster's still on tap) for a month, to the point that now I, yes I, must be the one to call all of the medical clinics (even though I was not the sick person :::wishing for a sandbag to hit whoever decided that "in sickness" should be part of the marriage vows::::) and tell them, yes, I'm sorry, I realize we owe you $300 for the doctor showing up at the hospital at 11pm to admit poor Husband, and for the kids' well visits, but for some reason we felt food was more important, and even though this doctor is one of the best in the world and we really like him, we can't pay you this month, even though it's only ten measly dollars.

::::sigh:::: If I can figure out how to put together 30 days' worth of meals for 2 adults and one picky as heck toddler on $107, he can sure as heck pick up the phone and tell a few of these offices to deal with it until we have money again.

ARGH!

In other news, Eeny showed me today that he can now stand on one leg.

Edited to add: I've rethought the sandbag, sickness, and marriage vow comment. I suppose if I want TheHusband to take any sort of care of me when I have a cold, then I'd better leave that bit in. Fine. No sandbag.

Laaaaaaaaaaaazy

2005-10-30T22:37:00.000-08:00

So it's been over two weeks since I've last updated. What can I say? I'm lazy, I'm tired, and my life's been rather boring the last couple of weeks. Not that I particularly mind, boring's okay, I can deal with it.

The boys are still snotty. Eeny's coughing as the grand finale to his stupid cold, and Rooster's a booger with an occasional snot explosion. The post-nasal drip has made his already sensitive gag reflex kick into overdrive, so he projectile puked on me for the first time in three months.

This is Eeny, snacking on goldfish at my parents' house. He inspired a whole new level of weird parent remarks on Friday. Dad paid TheHusband to do some work for him, and TheHusband, in a fit of
I don't want to cook" compounded by my fit of, "I've been shut up in this house with two snotty kids practically all week with no adult interaction," took us to the haven that is IHOP. French Toast with boysenberry syrup made me feel much better. Anyway, the server gave Eeny crayons. Anyone who knows him knows this is a bad idea, unless you want your booth redecorated in shades of Crayola.

Eeny felt the need to test these lovely colors on everything (it came off the table, the booth, and the wall nicely), which resulted in the command to "stop coloring on your pancakes and eat them."

This is Rooster's reaction to his first bite of solid foods. Poor kid. We don't do baby cereal, so like his brother, he was started on homemade applesauce (apples and water-piece of cake). He was not amused. He does, however, like the tops of broccoli florets. Over the last couple of weeks, he has also decided that it's time to start cruising. I changed the crib sheet today, and had the mattress out on the floor. Rooster stood with his tiny butt in the air, and his wee hands braced on the mattress. I went into the hall to put something away, and TheHusband said, "Hey, did you leave him standing against the mattress?" I, thinking crib mattress said yes. Poor Rooster got the stuffing scared out of him when he heard me yelp as I came back into the room. The mattress TheHusband was referring to was Eeny's (twin) bed's mattress, which required Rooster to cruise over to the dresser, hold on to the side of the dresser, then lean precariously onto Eeny's mattress. Yeesh, this kid's fast.

In me news, it's been officially decided that I will be pursuing certification as a labor doula and lactation educator. Around here, anyway, the illustrious title of International Board Certified Lactation Consultant is starting to require an RN. I have absolutely zero desire to go to nursing school, and right now, LE is a much more financially feasible certification than trying to go to nursing school with two little kids.

2005-10-08T00:24:00.000-07:00

Eeny and Rooster both decided last night that sleep was for the birds, and that 3am was Jack-in-the-box time. They got up for the morning at 6 and 8, respectively, leaving me with little rest. TheHusband took the Jeep to work as usual, and we began our day.

Rooster cried all day long. The only time he was happy was when he was on my hip, with his little grabby hands reaching for everything I was doing. I am normally overcome by feelings of love for his little grabby hands, but today, not so much.

The rules for today were as follows:
-Rooster must be held at all times, or he will cry and make a big, huge, enormous, desperate-sounding fuss
-No sitting down with Rooster
-No rocking Rooster unless you are standing and holding him 2 inches from your body
-No trying to convince Rooster to nurse and calm himself down
-Don't even think of going to lie down with Rooster and trick him into nursing
-No napping for Rooster
-Paying attention to Eeny is okay as long as Rooster is in arms while reading and playing are done
-No putting Rooster down to change a diaper
-It is no longer diaper changing. It is now small, pink alligator wrestling
-No putting fingers in Rooster's mouth to chew on
-No trying to convince Rooster that things really aren't that bad
-When Rooster does finally fall asleep, absolutely no putting him down under any circumstances

All. Day. Long. I understand the little guy's been through a lot. He's developed quite a few new skills lately, reached some milestones, and that's a lot for a baby to handle. He has never done this before, so I don't know that I can really complain. Just when I think I've got him figured out, he pulls this on me. LOL It'd be really tough if he did this all the time.

Rooster had been up for 4 cranky hours when I got Eeny down for his nap. I had to change his diaper during Eeny's naptime, and he woke up Eeny with his fussing about it. U checked the kid from head to toe. No visible reason for the fussiness. Eeny was now upset and cranky and very vocal about it, because he is NOT a happy camper when his nap is not completed. Rooster didn't have any gas, he looked fine, no fever, just the two new teeth he's cut, poking through, but it couldn't have been the teeth--he didn't act like this when the first two came in. It appears we're dealing with a Mystery Fuss.

After 5 hours of baby who is only happy while being carried and even then he's going to squawk and moan about something not being exactly to his specifications, and a toddler who got shorted on his night's sleep and his nap, and I still hadn't had a chance to grab lunch, it got to the point where I decided to join in and have a good cry, too.

I've never had to do this before, but I set Eeny up with a Thomas dvd (childproof living room--yay!), and put Rooster in his crib (he usually likes to play in there while I do laundry) with a few toys, and I hid in the other room for a few minutes to breathe and listen to the sound of silence. There's really nothing like the tearstained cheeks of your 6 month old to make you feel like Mother of the Year when you go to pick him up again for another round of Walk the Screaming Baby.

It was about an hour after walking Rooster around the house for the gazillionth time, trying all of the usual tricks, with Eeny trotting along beside us, and I had just figured out that the strange new rules for the day had taken effect, when I realized the following--every single tool in my Keep The Baby Happy Arsenal was in the Jeep. With TheHusband. At work.

My sling.
The diaper bag.
My clean cloth diapers and covers.
The package of disposables (in both boys' appropriate sizes and brands) my mother bought for us for night time.
Rooster's brand new teether, which also happens to be his new best friend.
Rooster's other favorite teething toys.
The stupid binky.
The Hyland's Teething Tablets.
The Tylenol.

All of it was far away from me. In the Jeep. Gone.

Rooster's a chunky little guy (he's over 20lbs), so by this time my back and my arm were killing me. Usually Rooster's happy to crawl around on the floor or play in the crib or PnP when I need to get something done, or he'll ride in the sling if he insists on being held. Not today. Because it's unusual for him to be so clingy, I decided not to put him down. The house would just have to deal, and we're not expecting company, so who cares if we're all in our jammies?

Then TheHusband calls, and with Rooster wailing in the background, he proceeds to try to talk to me about what he'd been able to get at the grocery store last night from our list, and how he wanted to stop by WalMart on the way home and finish the shopping, and was there anything else we needed? It would mean he was home late. Then, after listening to him ramble for 10 minutes listing various product brands for possible grocery options (gee, Honey, I'm really glad you want to talk to me, but I don't give a rat's butt what brand of hand soap you get, and that's why we made a friggin' LIST!!!), I politely informed him that I really was needed off the phone-the baby needed me, just in case he couldn't hear Rooster in the background. He actually got huffy that I didn't have time to listen to how the applesauce at Target was actually cheaper than the applesauce at Dillon's. !!!!! Men. So, in a fit of maturity and temper, I got off the phone before I let fly the Rant of the Wife Stuck in the House for Days on End (one car, must conserve gas) With Screaming Kid All Day.

The only break from Rooster's upset today came when I finally sat down and got him calmed down enough to nurse. Then he bit me! Not hard, but just enough for me to figure out that it probably had been his teeth all day. :(

Sure enough, I found the lone tube of Baby Orajel, applied a dose, and watched my poor baby drop off to sleep peacefully nursing, almost immediately. Stupid teeth. Why do they have to make it so hard on my kids? Why don't kids come with displays that inform parents of the reason for their crying?

Anyway, TheHusband came home half an hour later, waking up Rooster yet again (this makes a total of 90 minutes' worth of cat naps for the day), and we finally get out for our walk. On the way in, I bring in the diaper bag, sling, teether, diapers, binky, Tylenol, and Teething Tablets. I will NOT be caught without these things again.

Dinner is served, Eeny is bathed and put to bed after jammies, books, and snuggles, as well as the thanks of his mother for being such an understanding big brother. Now that I have the sling back, Rooster gets put in it, and he gets his teething tablets, Tylenol, and then he is walked to sleep.

I sit here at my computer and it's 2am. Rooster is sprawled out on the Boppy on my lap. He woke up to nurse, but drifted off to sleep again rather quickly. His tiny lips are sleepily pursed against his arm, and the lamplight is bringing out the blond in his hair. He's stirring, and he's snuggling closer to me. It's a cold night. He might feel the chill in the air, or he might just want to be closer to me. Either way, I think he's one of the most beautiful babies I've ever seen, and I thank God for sending him into our lives.
He is worth every ache and cramp in my arm, every twinge in my back, and every second I've spent trying to make his day a little more comfortable.

What a blessing this child is.

I'm in love.

Bizarro Prayer Request of the Week

2005-09-28T23:12:00.000-07:00

A minivan. We have the Jeep. I love the features the Jeep has, and I do admit I love my SUV. However, I don't love the 14mpg on a good tank of gas. It's hurting way too much in the pocket book. Rooster's car seat is behind the passenger seat, and the angle forces the passenger seat to sit way too close to the dashboard. I hate hitting my knees on it.

So, on my list of minivan demands:
1) New enough to get much better gas mileage than the Jeep
2) Captains' chairs in the second row
3) LATCH
4) Cheap as free or really close to it
5) Reliable
6) Room enough to haul kids and friends

Now, let's see what happens.

I'm not ready!

2005-09-25T01:46:00.000-07:00

Rooster took his very first crawling steps earlier this evening! He's been getting up on hands and knees and rocking back and forth for about a week. He didn't get much floor time today (house full of relatives--more on that later), but about 30 minutes before we left, I put him on the floor to play, and after about 5 minutes, he made some little crawling steps. He crawled and scooched all the way around the living room several times. :::sniff::: My baby's getting so big.

He's mobile. ::::faint::::

PS

2005-09-23T23:14:00.000-07:00

The Husband Generator lists my ideal husband as Billy Boyd.

I'll take him.

Apparently, I'm venting.

2005-09-23T23:09:00.000-07:00

I haven't said anything about The Nookylessness for the last few months. It would make the situation worse to bring it up and remind TheHusband of his inadequacy (in any department). The only thing I've done since Rooster was born was buy a box of condoms, and mentioned that I'd like to get back into the swing of things sometime soon. Then he got sick, and I haven't made a peep since. Until tonight.

I was baking blondies (I bake when stressed. Needless to say, the house has been CookieLand the last few weeks) and my batter cooled too much to get the eggs in and it failed miserably (wasting 2 cups of sugar in the process--grrr). It was too much for me to handle. I haven't melted down at all since TheHusband got sick, and this was all of that, plus all of my stress about finances (somewhat relieved now) and about the neighbors calling the police on the Honda (long story) instead of coming to our door and saying they had a problem with its location (we could have explained the situation then--we have to wait for payday to move it) resulting in an impound notice. I'd gone a month and a half without a good cry and I needed it.

Physical touch is a very important component of my relationships. I'm a hugger, I like to be touched by those I care about. It's especially important that my husband hug me, kiss me, touch my elbow when he walks by, etc. I got 3 kisses (pecks) today. One when he left for work this morning, one when he got home, and one when he went to bed. This is becoming normal, and I hate it.

Anyway, TheHusband sees me crying over the failed blondie batter, which is between him and the basement stairs (and our kitchen is narrow), and he sighs, walks AROUND me, and goes down to transfer the laundry. #)(*#%Q&%!!!

So I yelled and let him have it. I told him that I was making a tremendous amount of effort in the housework department because I love him and I know it's important to him. I don't care how tired he is, I don't care how little he feels like it, I need some attention. I hate housework with a passion. I'd do many things before doing dishes, given a choice. I hate how the laundry is in the basement. I hate it, hate it, hate it. And yet, I do it for him. I know it's important to him, and I know that it's part of my job as a homemaker. He knows how important physical affection is to me, and he's not even making an effort. I couldn't express to him just how much it hurts. He then tried to walk through every single possible reason he could have for not having interest (fortunately, nothing about my physical appearance is causing this @@), and excused himself from other forms of physical connection by saying my hugs felt 'needy.' Damn right they're needy. I cuddle, kiss and soothe two children all day, and most of the night (Eeny's cold threw a wrench into his sleep habits—hellooo parental bed). I give these children the tons of physical attention they need. I need the supply replenished every once in a while. Needy. Phhsshh. @@

The whole stupid thing ended basically with him saying he understands where I'm coming from and he thinks things will change in a few months, but that for now, I'd just have to deal with going without. I can deal with going without. I've done it for 10 months, I can go a little longer if I have to. What I want, and what I didn't get, is for him to at least make an effort. It feels like he's not even going to try until he 'feels like it.' Thanks, honey. That's really helpful. That's exactly the kind of attitude that makes a marriage work and function. :::sigh:::

ARGH!

Well, I feel better for having gotten that out. My parents asked to keep Eeny tonight, so we have a night of toddler-free sleep and I need to go take advantage of it.

Just an average day

2005-09-21T23:27:00.000-07:00

I'm in the process of rearranging the boys' room. It's too crowded, and the barely used crib keeps getting in the way of Rooster's closet. TheHusband somehow decided that a stack of yaffa blocks behind the changing table means good storage. He obviously hasn't put much thought into it. I'd like to see the yaffa blocks used for toys only or disappear altogether.

I can breathe again! My allergies are acting up. I haven't had an attack this bad in years. TheHusband informed me that in order to save money, we'd be opening the windows on all bearable days (it's been in the 90s here--I hate indian summer). Just to show him, I agreed to do it one day. One. He came home to a wife with red, watery, itchy eyes, a stuffy nose, and a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder. Needless to say, after informing him exactly what was wrong with me, and pointing him in the direction of my favorite remedy, he went out tonight and with our last few dollars, got my favorite allergy homeopathic. It's by BHI, and it's simply called Allergy. I love being able to breathe through my nose and not spend 10 minutes at a time with my knuckles stuffed in my eyes, itching.

It sounds like there's something living in my breadmaker. We're having French Toast for dinner tomorrow or the next night, and I'm making breadmaker Brioche for it. The usual loopy whir of the machine is rather nice, but it occasionally throws in this knock that sounds like there's a rat in it trying to hammer his way out. Eeeew. :::shudder:::

After years of baking in relative ease, I've come face to face with my biggest irritation. No brown sugar. I was craving butterscotch brownies. So I bearded the sugar lion in his den and discovered that brown sugar is, in fact, sugar with molasses, not the leftovers of sugar processing as I had been led to believe. So I made brown sugar, and baked butterscotch brownies. They should be cool any minute, and then I'm having one (or three) with a nice, big glass of milk.

I should have taken the boys for a walk today. This is my third day of Operation Look Really Hot that I've missed it. It was 93 degrees at 6pm though, so I'm thinking I have a valid excuse. I hate heat.

I also hate it when TheHusband breaks wind and then complains that I don't like it. I've courteously avoided breaking wind in front of him during our last nearly 7 years together. Surely he thinks I am worthy of the same courtesy. He claims he can't control it. Um, right. I've pushed 8 and 9 pound babies out of a nearby location and have no problems not farting in front of people, what's his excuse?
I am sure Gerard Butler would carefully avoid breaking wind in front of a lady. Mission: Find Gerard Butler and ascertain veracity of previous statement.
TheHusband and I have been married for nearly 4 years. I still prefer to use the restroom with the door closed. He has no problems leaving it open. There are just some things that should remain a mystery. Heck, leave me at least a little of the romance.

Speaking of romance, if we make it to December without having broken the post-(and pre in this case) baby dry spell, we'll have officially gone a whole quarter of our marriage to date, not having marital relations. This, I am not okay with. I don't care how tired he is. At least make an effort. Doesn't he realize that many men would be more than happy to have a wife with an appetite like mine? Physical touch is my primary love language (thank you, Dr. Gary Chapman, author of The Five Love Languages). His is acts of service (stuff like keeping the house clean). I'm doing a kick-ass job of holding up my end of the bargain, where's my nooky?

The Emmys entry

2005-09-18T22:52:00.000-07:00

I loved Felicity Huffman's dress. Sandra Oh's not so much.

I was glad to see Tony Shalhoub win Best Actor in a Comedy Series, although I would have been equally glad to see Zach Braff win.

It occurred to me this evening that Lauren Graham and Patricia Arquette both look more like real women than the the waif-type creatures I'm accustomed to seeing at awards shows (maybe their camera subtracts 10 pounds, who knows?). Woohoo hips! It was nice.

I had no idea Naveen Andrews (Lost) was with Barbara Hershey. Go Barbara!

I loved the Peter Jennings tribute.

More if and when I think about it.

A milestone

2005-09-16T23:18:00.000-07:00

Eeny put his pants on by himself this evening. We were getting ready to go for a walk, and I handed him a pair of pants to take to TheHusband so he could dress him. TheHusband and I briefly converse, and then we turn around to see Eeny on the couch, with one leg in his pants. I held the waistband so he could get his other leg in, and he put them on almost all of the rest of the way by himself. :) Yeah, so they were backwards and he needed help getting them up over his diaper, but WHO CARES?! My kid dressed himself! :)

I don't want to say this too loudly, but he might be on the way to weaning. He's started slowing down on nursing to sleep for naptime. He's also started nursing for a little bit, then saying, "No," and getting down. He cuddled on the couch with me today for 15 minutes without asking for his Nee. I think I'm ready for it.

I'm sad that he seems to be needing me less and less. I know it's normal and appropriate, but couldn't he need me less when we're not going through a time of tremendous upheaval? Can't he wait until I'm feeling like I'm a good mother to him again? I love him dearly, and he's been acting out lately. Totally understandable, given the circumstances of the past month, but it makes me really frustrated and angry with his behavior. I know it's normal, but somehow, knowing it's normal doesn't really help me feel any better when he scratches Rooster or pulls his hair or just walks up and hits him. He'll walk up once or twice a day and say to me, "Rooster down." He means "Put Rooster down," but he can't quite say that yet. He gets frantic if I can't do it right away. Usually, I can't. Rooster's in a phase of really really really really really really wanting to be held all the dang time now.

I know it's just temporary and normal, but still, it's frustrating to have the needs of another young child to meet. I don't like feeling like I'm prioritizing one child over the other when it comes to needs. I just feel like I'm not the mom either of them need right now. I know once I find a job and TheHusband's back to normal activities (meningitis sucks, don't ever get it) that things will settle down, and I'll have my sanity (or something like it) back and feel like a good mom again. I wonder where my patience went. It's probably on back order.

Vindicated

2005-09-15T23:28:00.000-07:00

According to Entertainment Weekly's "The Shaw Report," Mother/Child blogs are In. Woohoo! I'm finally participating in something that is In. Usually I'm very Five Minutes Ago.

I've decided I want to be In in other ways, too. I saw a fashion special on E! a few weeks ago, and they talked about a cascade curl perm. I tried cascade curls on me with an iron, and they don't look too bad. I shall add it to my birthday list. As we are financially screwed (thanks to the Hospital Stay--woohoo! 7 grand we can't afford!), the only way I'll be getting any hair pampering is through birthday gifts.

I don't know what else to add to my birthday list.

I went through a Realty Simulator to see what a realty company thinks my aptitude for that particular career is. I didn't push Customer A enough, and I think I pushed Customer C too hard. I think my results will be something along the lines of, "Boy, that sucked. Please do not ever visit our website again. Never, ever, ever."

Mommy stuff now. I cloth diaper the boys part-time. Rooster's outgrown all of his covers, and Eeny's so squirmy it's hard to change him. However, my mother generously ordered some IttyBittyBottoms covers for me, and they arrived today. I LOVE to get mail. I especially love to get packages of cloth diapering supplies. :) These covers are great! I will definitely be ordering from her again. The only thing I'd want is to have a little more fabric over the thigh. Rooster's such a chunkybutt that it's tough to find clothes to fit his legs.

Eeny has started ending phrases in "dot com." His winners from yesterday were "Bub-bob (SpongeBob) dotcom?" "Daddy dot-com?" and "Rooster dot-com?" He always sounds like he's asking a question. He also says, Zassa (that's a) and Zississa (this is a) as the first word to just about any statement. He can now identify all but one car make in our neighborhood. He finally picked up Lincoln today. He's still having trouble with Saab, but we'll get there. It's hilarious to hear this high-pitched little kid voice riding down the street in his stroller naming all of the cars passing and parked on the side of the road.

A typical walk conversation sounds like this:
"Car? Tree? Doggy? Borb (Ford)? Leeenkon? Meercury? Zassa Nis-san? Zississa bi-cy-cle? Volkswagen?" Yes, the child actually says Volkswagen. I left the boys with a neighbor while I went to see TheHusband at the hospital last month, and they went for a walk. One of them owns a yellow Beetle. This is what she said happened:

Neighbor: Bug?
Eeny: Volks-wagen.
Neighbor: It's a bug.
Eeny: Volkswagen!
Neighbor: Bug.
Eeny: (grabs neighbors hand and pulls her around to the front of the car and points at the hood ornament) Volkswagen!

This kid cracks me up.

Rooster is learning to scoot. Everywhere. I caught him getting up on his hands and knees several times today. I'm thinking he'll be crawling by 7 months. I just don't know what to do with a kid who's mobile so soon. Eeny wasn't crawling until just shy of 9 months. This brings a whole new dimension to babyproofing.

Eeny's up. He's crying and wants Mama, Nee, and Bed.

First,

2005-09-14T16:37:00.000-07:00

Rooster's second tooth showed itself today. Poor kid.

Second, the bolt on the tie rod on the front driver's side wheel of TheHusband's car broke today....while TheHusband was driving it. @@

Fortunately, it was only about 8 blocks from home and he was not hurt when the friggin' wheel fell off. Unfortunately, we had to have it towed (more stuff we can't afford, on the plus side, this could eliminate a trip to the ILs ::grin::), and now TheHusband has to take the Jeep to and from work. My Jeep....my escape from the stir-craziness...my Jeep with half a tank of gas...for the rest of the month....oy.

Anytime that lottery winner feels like making a very large endowment in our direction, I'm perfectly okay with it.

I'd also like to complain about DH's cousin. We didn't even know she was pregnant with Baby #3. That, in and of itself is no problem. It's just that this is her third baby in four years and I got a Baby Shower invitation. Maybe I'm just totally hypersensitive because we have exactly NO money at this point (and we're under contract to AOHell or we'd have gotten rid of the internet long ago), but it bugs me to get a shower invitation for a third baby. I grew up with this being horribly socially unacceptable and rude. TheHusband thinks I'm crazy and that it's perfectly normal to ask people to buy presents for your third baby in four years, but I didn't notice him asking me if anyone was going to throw me a shower for Rooster (I'm not mad that I didn't get one--I simply didn't expect it).

Better him than me

2005-09-13T22:33:00.000-07:00

Rooster cut his very first tooth today. I knew it was coming. It's bittersweet. I love seeing him grow, but at the same time, I wish he were still a teensy newborn who would snuggle up on my chest and fall asleep. But oh I love the little fanged baby he's growing into.

He put his First Tooth to good use by chomping TheHusband on the finger with it after he'd said, "I can't feel it. There's no tooth, it's just gums." Ha! Sucks to be him. LOL

Don't look for me on Food Network

2005-09-12T21:24:00.000-07:00

I made an attempt at basic fondant tonight. Attempt is the operative word. Of course, I cooked it too hard. I did, however, manage to make one tiny little ball that I could see might be what it was supposed to look like. Oh well. I shall stick to baking. I'm much better at that. LOL

Remembering that day

2005-09-11T12:48:00.000-07:00

"it felt like the whole country was under attack, and i wanted to gather
everyone i loved together and lock them in a room."
--a woman from the April '05 Kids board

That's exactly how I felt. I was asleep. A few months before, I'd gotten an apartment and was living alone for the first time. I went to sleep and woke up to the phone ringing. It was TheHusband, then TheFiance. He sounded so scared. He told me about all three flights. I spent the rest of the day until I had to go to work glued to the tv set and Peter Jennings in his brown tie with white polka dots. I knew it was a really intense day when he took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and undid his top collar button. I was so comforted to see him still there. If Peter Jennings was still at his desk, it had to be okay.

I remember going outside--the sky was blue, the birds were singing, it was a gorgeous day, and it was so weird not to see any planes in the sky. I remember how something so awful could have happened on such a beautiful day?

I was working in reservations for a large hotel chain at the time, and called to see what was going on. Our ops guy said it was the slowest he'd ever seen it. We were doing anything the customers wanted at that point, even cancelling reservations that it was considered to late to cancel on. I got maybe one call every 20 minutes or so. As scary as that day was, it was the only day at that job that it felt that every caller on the other end of the line knew that I was a person, not just a nameless, faceless operator. I'd never felt so close to strangers.

Just when you thought you were safe

2005-09-10T22:23:00.000-07:00

from the Monster that is Teething, you have another cute, innocent, sweet little baby who also decides that 5 months is the perfect time to cut a tooth.

I'm renaming the kids, by the way. The initials are annoying me. N will now be known as Eeny. H is now Rooster. There. I feel much better.

Eeny cut his first two teeth at 5 months, so H seems to be trying to make this a pattern. Ack. Anyway, Mr. Cranky Rooster got up from a late nap around 9. He then proceeded to yell through his dose of Hyland's Teething Tablets, which worked for about 10 minutes. We couldn't find the Tylenol, much to my dismay. He screamed and refused to nurse through an online attempt of mine to find a dress to wear to two upcoming weddings (I have 5 months or so to go from housefrau to Hot, and I needed to find a dress for motivation), and proceeded to refuse to nurse and to bitch and moan for the next hour, in spite of my best attempts to solve his problems.

Finally, I took him to the other room to waltz around in the dark and sing. The little booger snickered at my version of "On my Own" from Les Mis. It wasn't a bad job of it, but Someone obviously has a skewed sense of taste in music. I thought about doing a few from Phantom of the Opera or Carousel, but he's already a tough audience.
It's not fair. TheHusband can't carry a tune in an airtight container, but both of the boys love his singing. :::flail::::

Still looking for a job. A psychiatrist in town may employ me as a typist for his notes. I can do that from home, so I hope it works.

You know you're a homebirther when

2005-09-04T21:44:00.000-07:00

the following conversation takes place in your kitchen:

Me: How many chicken breasts to we have?

DH: Four.

Me: That's it? Wait, isn't there another bag back there? It looks like there's another bag of them back there.

DH: Those are placentas.

Me: Ohhhhhhhh.....

What a week or two

2005-08-27T12:36:00.000-07:00

On 8/15, DH was hospitalized for viral meningitis. That was a Monday. I got to bring him home Saturday afternoon (8/20). He's still recovering. He can see N or H for only a few minutes before he's exhausted. My parents were out of town the whole week he was in the hospital. They got back Wednesday night. I am so relieved.

My ILs came down yesterday to "help." Two things got done. The lawn got mowed (by FIL), and Brandon got the BLT he wanted (MIL made it for him). I had been cleaning the bathroom when they arrived.

Today, I survey the damage.

I am left with three of my freshly-laundered dish towels soaking and dirty (how I don't know, as they didn't do any dishes), a once-freshly laundered bath towel dirty and soaking, the bathroom I had almost finished cleaning is now dirty again, and there's a pan of bacon fat on my stove.

I have also come to the conclusion that my MIL's anxieties and desire to avoid stepping on toes are little more than a cleverly disguised plan to avoid doing anything actually helpful.

I was cleaning the bathroom, and she was playing with the boys, or rather, trying unsuccessfully to get Henry to smile at her, and Ian to pay attention to anything other than his cars or Thomas. She yells from the other room, "I think Henry has a dirty diaper." I say, "Great--I've been using disposables since Brandon's been in the hospital, I haven't had much time for laundry, so there's a bag of diapers and wipes and stuff sitting on the chair in the living room." She replies, "Oh, I'll just wait for you to come do it."
I'm sure I probably compare the ILs to my parents too much, but I couldn't help it in this case. My mom wouldn't have even told me the kid's diaper was dirty. The most I would have heard from her about it is, "Is there a diaper cream you want me to use and do you want him in cloth or disposable?" Heck, she might not even tell me she had changed him.

B says she just doesn't want to step on any toes. The hell she doesn't. We left N with them for 4 hours (at their place) to go to a wedding. Before we left, I showed her the diapers and explained very carefully how to use them (we'd run out of sposies, so they were in cloth--easy cloth, considering she'd cloth diapered three boys herself). We came back to a soaking wet child. I'd asked her earlier in that trip when she informed me both boys needed to be changed if she would please help me change one of them so I wouldn't be late to the rehearsal dinner. She said, "No, I'll just watch you do it." I mean seriously. It's a gosh-darn diaper. B said, "Well maybe she can't to it with her hand." MIL is missing her index, middle, and ring fingers on her left hand. I said, "Considering she has no arthritis or other joing problems and she managed to cloth diaper the three of you back in the days of pins and plastic pants, I somehow doubt that." B didn't have an answer.

My theory is that she thinks I'm lazy and just wants to see me actually do something (you'd think the fact that both of her grandkids are alive and healthy would mean I'm doing something, but hey), or that she's scared of an intact penis. Itold her when we left Ian for the wedding there's nothing to do with it.

Either way, @@ is all I can come up with.

To her credit, she did make B the BLT he wanted, but in the process, she somehow managed to dirty my entire kitchen. No less than 6 dishes used and spread all over the counter, and there's a pan of congealed bacon fat on the stove I now need to go take care of. She said, "I just left the grease in the pan, 'cause I don't know what you do with it." I said, "There are paper cups on top of the fridge. I stack two or three of those and then pour the grease into it." She didn't respond. I'd have gotten up and done it myself right then, but H was in the middle of lunch, and he HATES to have his lunch interrupted, and I haven't yet gotten the hang of pouring hot bacon grease into a cup with one hand while nursing a 19lb baby with the other.

FIL did mow the lawn, but B said he should shower afterward for no other reason than that clean feeling. They were headed directly home afterward and they have a shower there. I wouldn't ordinarily mind, but a) they would have had to use our towels--I've had limited time for laundry as it is, MUST they use the towels I worked so hard on? and b) MIL and FIL spend 20 minutes dithering back and forth over whether he should shower and dirty the bathroom I'd gotten almost clean before I had to go change a diaper. Argh.

So anyway, with gas the way it is, it'll be a mercifully long time before they can come down and "help" again.

:::::off to Lysol my shower and bathroom again:::::

Bittersweet.

2005-08-14T13:15:00.000-07:00

Holy crap! I mean, I know they grow in leaps and bounds, but this is nuts.

Before his nap today, N talked about"cahs" and "goggies." He called Strong Bad (of Homestarrunner fame) "Badbad."

He got up from his nap and snuck up behind me in the den. After I recovered from the near-heart attack, he said, "Doggies?" Then he pointed to the car book I'm making for him and said, "Car?" Then, I pulled Homestarrunner.com up for his post-nap amusement and he said, "Strong Bad email?" The email just finished, and he has just said, "Strong Bad all gone." clear as day. Wow. I thought I heard him say, "Those are Nissans" to a commercial the other day.

My baby's growing up. Waaaaaaaaah!

Erm, fun.

2005-08-09T00:48:00.000-07:00

The boys I got back around 9 last night from St. Louis. We met up with some of the moms from one of my boards. My hostess got sick the second night, so we had to get a hotel room, but that turned out okay because N really needed a break. I asked a lot of him this weekend, and he held up beautifully. The trip home was a lot easier than the trip out there.

On the way there, I had to stop every hour or two for at least 10 minutes to nurse H and attempt to get N out and give him his danged nuggets. The kid asked for chicken nuggets at least every hour. I took the wrong highway headed out of town, so I suppose I deserved it. LOL What should have been a 6 hour and 41 minute trip according to MapQuest took 10 hours.

On the trip home, I had to stop exactly 4 times. Once for gas, once to retrieve a dropped car, book, and train (I swear, if that kid had dropped Thomas the Tank Engine's friend Henry one more time, I would have super glued it to his hand), once for about 15 minutes to nurse H while N stayed in his car seat, and once for all of us to get out, get nuggets and a burger for me, have my snazzy new stroller admired, and stop by my good friend Starbucks to obtain the iced cafe mocha that got me home. I buy from the local coffee shop when in town, but when in a strange place, Starbucks will do.

Sighing again

2005-08-02T01:38:00.000-07:00

First, a moment of appreciation for H's mom, Momma Sue. My prayers are with H and her family. I love my mother so much, even though we don't always see eye to eye. I'd be heartbroken if anything happened to her.

Last, I'm pretty sure N has multiple food allergies. He's had eczema since he was 5 months old. We had him allergy tested at 17 months by a pediatric allergist. I was not impressed. Not only did his tests come back clear, but I was scolded for having not vaccinated him yet. Family Doc agrees with my logic. If he's reacting to stuff and we don't know what it is, why should we inject him with substances he could also very probably react to? It doesn't make sense. After the Potato Incident (in which N ate heavily spiced potatoes and got bumps all over his cheeks and had Benadryl), he's not had any break outs, but he still looks not okay.

More later.

So...

2005-07-31T23:33:00.000-07:00

LMAO

Gearing up for trip to a big city to see friends. I'm planning on driving with both boys by myself. This should be, erm, fun.

Grrrrrr

2005-07-26T01:01:00.000-07:00

I just found out that my trip to St. Louis is in nasty jeopardy. B could get time off of work to go, I know he could. But he won't. He works for a movie theater. He's the oldest on site employee. They seriously can live without him for a weekend. I'm even able to handle four 10-hour days in a row so that he can make up his precious hours. But I really really doubt I can get both kiddos and myself to St. Louis (please see post regarding cities in which I hate to drive) in one piece in anything under many more hours than MapQuest recommends. Argh!

Harry Potter 6---Total Spoiler

2005-07-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

Here's what I'm thinking: RAB is Regulus Black. The Horcrux is actually at Grimmauld Place, because it's the locket that was casually mentioned in OotP that was large and heavy and that none of them could open.

Harry's inheriting of Grimmauld Place will be a good thing ultimately. We definitely haven't seen the last of Kreacher, and I think he's a nasty little being, but Dobby will counter him. I think Dobby will probably leave Hogwarts now that Dumbledore's gone and will come work for and live with Harry. I have no idea whether Harry will return to Hogwarts next year.

On to Dumbledore. It had to happen sometime. :::shrug::: The hero has to go on alone, and all of the adults surrounding Harry are now gone. The Weasleys are there, of course, and it will give me great satisfaction to see something rotten happen to that git Percy, but not on the same level as Dumbledore was. I think he was asking Snape to kill him rather than let Draco do it. He probably knew of the Unbreakable Vow, and wanted Draco's innocence protected. I think that in having Draco so devoted to his father, and his mother obviously loving him so much, that Rowling has shown us that Draco is capable of love, therefore I think there's hope for him yet.

I think one of the things we'll find out about Snape is that he was in love with Harry's mother, and that's why he hates Harry so much, but has been unable to harm him. Especially if Harry having his mother's eyes is actually significant.

Snape killing Dumbledore will get Snape in even better with Voldemort, and that will ultimately lead to great help for the Order of the Phoenix. However, Dumbledore said that many people thought they were very close to Voldy, when in fact, none of them were. Snape makes particular mention of Voldy's trust in him in the first chapter. This may indeed prove to be Snape's downfall, and I will also venture a guess that it will be Bellatrix Lestrange's as well. I like Ron and Hermione together ('bout dang time), and I do like the Harry/Ginny combination. :) I do think Ginny's previous interactions with Voldemort does come into play in Book 7 events. I also think Snape's half-blood status will be expounded upon more in the next book. I kind of felt it was glossed over in this one. I think that's about it...

Oh yeah, and I think Book 7 will be enormous.

People @@

2005-07-18T23:11:00.000-07:00

My mom took me shopping the other day, and the boys did great. A lady in the dressing room commented several times on how nice the stroller was (hee!) and how cute they were, etc. They got fussy just as I was getting my own clothes back on and walking out. I turned to hang up my rejects and I heard the lady mutter something to her daughter about how pathetic it was that these poor babies had to sit there and cry while selfish mommy tried on clothes, ending with, "I just hate hearing babies cry." I put my clothing on the rack and replied, "I do, too," and walked back to my calming-down munchkins (my mom was pushing them). The look on her face was priceless. She said, "Oh! I had no idea you were still there!" and covered her mouth. I'm glad she at least had the decency to look ashamed of herself.

Harry Potter. :)

2005-07-16T21:44:00.000-07:00

H and I went to Barnes and Noble last night to get my copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. It was fun. I met the same friends with which I'd gone to the last HP release party, and we made wands and ate cookies. I only had to stand in line for 9 minutes, and I was the 84th person in line. Of course, I'd told B I wanted to take cash. He didn't remember to get it on the way home, so he handed me the debit card. Our debit card hates me. Hates me with a pure fury that only an inanimate piece of plastic can have. It never, and I do mean never works for me. DH can run the card and it sails right on through with approvals left, right, and center. I try to run the card for $19.30 from a bank account that supposedly has $35 and it gets declined. Not once, but three times. @@ Fortunately, a friend stepped in and took care of it for me. I was so upset about it. :/

Anyway, I get home and B checks the bank account and the only thing we can figure out is that he got gas at the grocery store gas pump which routinely overauthorizes credit/debit card purchases. I have no idea why that's even legal, and I think it sucks.

On to other things.

My due date board has begun the inevitable discussion on when to start cereal, which leads me to an astounding leap of logic. A few people have mentioned that their pediatricians have told them to start cereal after the baby is taking more than a certain amount of formula per day (32, for the sake of argument), as they can get too much formula.

Here's where my logic starts to work. I thought the commonly held idea is that formula is adequate nutrition for the first 6 months, and held by some to be just as good as breastmilk. Please explain this to me.

If a child who is taking 34oz of formula per day 'needs' cereal, and the child who is taking 34oz of breastmilk per day does not, then it would seem to follow that formula is not adequate nutrition if the child needs more. Does my logic hold up? It's highly possible that staying up until 5 this morning reading Harry Potter has had a greater influence on my mental acuity than I had anticipated. If so, please ignore my ramblings. If not, then maybe there's something to it.

I got out

2005-07-13T21:15:00.000-07:00

of the house. :) N wasn't a bad kid today, he was just very 2. He must not be feeling well. He was extremely clingy, and I feel like I was awful to him. :( I rarely just need to get out of the house, but today I did. So B took the boys and sent me out a movie with my friend R. We saw "The Fantastic Four" and it was great. :) I don't mind suspending a little disbelief for a reasonable flick.

I've bred the ultimate bottle snob. H refuses to drink from a bottle. Period. If I have to go to a chiropractic appointment, he'll resolutely refuse to even try the bottle and nurse voraciously when I return.

When I got back from the movie tonight, he was contentedly sitting in B's lap, sucking furiously on his fist. He had the best nursing session he's had all day. LOL

I swear he missed me. :) He nursed for a good 10 minutes straight, and then pulled all the way off and stared and me and smiled and giggled and cooed for another 15 minutes. :) He's asleep on the boppy on my lap at the moment. :)

N sobbed his little heart out when I left. I felt bad for leaving him, but he was with his dad-DEE!, and I needed a serious break from Mommydom. B said he didn't stop crying until they got in the car and went to the mall. I still feel guilty. His poor, sad little eyes watched me from the window as I left. I've been sleeping with H in a separate room the last few nights (less kicking from N), but tonight I'll go back in with him. He needs what he calls a Nuggle from his mom. :)

I had my break, and I missed my children terribly. Now I'm ready to jump back in to being a mom again. :)

An Anniversary

2005-07-10T21:27:00.000-07:00

I just kissed my 23-month-old for the last time.

When we wake up tomorrow, he'll be 2. I can't believe it. It seems like it was such a long time ago, and yet so recent.

This time two years ago, I was getting ready to go to bed. We were just getting home from grabbing a bite to eat after walking the mall for hours. I'd visited my kinesiologist earlier in the day, and contractions were picking up, but then they slowed down again.

I was tired, and we went to sleep at 10. If I manage to stay up until 11:30 tonight, I'll catch the exact anniversary of my waking into the last 6 hours of my labor. The long, long journey that brought me my beautiful firstborn son.

The baby whose small self fit so snugly into my arms is now a little boy who runs cars over my legs and runs around the house giggling madly at the sight of the cat on the porch. He sings his ABCs, he yells, "One, Two, Jump!" and plants his bum on the couch with a gigantic bounce. He gives his brother hugs and kisses, loves to go look at cars with Daddy, and climbs up beside me and pats my face as we doze off for our afternoon nap.

His name means, "Gracious gift of God." He truly is. I am so thankful for my little boy.

Happy Birthday N Myko!

Driving

2005-07-03T22:21:00.000-07:00

There've been some huge storms here this evening, and I was contemplating road trips while hanging out in the basement with The Husband and Kids.

St. Louis: The highway is the crazy let's send you around this loop so that you miss your exit, and then deposit you right back on the highway just on the other side of it. And while we're at it, let's keeps switching which side of the road the exits are on, so if you take a loop one time, you might miss it, but if you avoid it the next time, you'll miss it, too.
And heck, let's make every few exits send you into a really bad neighborhood. The kind where you immediately want to roll up your windows and lock your doors and you ardently wish you were driving an armored humvee-type neighborhood.
We don't have those where I live.

Little Rock: This city thinks it's fun to send a poor, unsuspecting motorist into oncoming traffic in order to enter or exit the highway. The speed limit on the frontage road is 50-55mph. The highway entrance and exit ramps cut across the frontage road in a sort of diagonal. There are yield signs for the driver entering or exiting the highway. In order to cross them, you must wait for the diabolical timing of the stoplights at the end of the frontage road to space out the traffic so that you have just enough time to get across the road and get your back end out of it before the next line of cars comes barrelling down. This is something I imagine I could get used to. The 10 whole feet of off-ramp, however, I cannot. I entered Little Rock just after dark. I found my exit, and expecting an off-ramp long enough to slow down without having to slam on my brakes, I started slowing down. Imagine my surprise when I had to brake harder than I ever had before in order to stay just behind the yield sign. Then I got freaked out again when I saw headlights that appeared to be coming at me. I nade it to my hotel in one piece, but never quite got the hang of that particular set up. The rest of the highway system, however, isn't too bad, and the city and surrounding areas are actually laid out rather nicely.

Vancouver: Eh. I like Victoria better.

The Special

2005-07-02T21:37:00.000-07:00

I have had The Special. The Special is a sinus infection, a developing double ear infection, and pink-eye. @@ A sinus infection will usually knock me on my ass for a day or two, so this 4 and 5 day business was really getting to me. I'm glad to find out I actually am pretty darn sick with a major pain in the ass combination, and not just a weenie for a sinus infection.

I accepted antibiotics, and am now dealing with the unpleasant abdominal side effects of amoxicillin. Yay for nausea. On the other hand, I really do feel better already.

Icky

2005-06-28T23:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sick. :::cough::: N didn't understand when I told him about sharing, that germs are the things we don't share. :::snerk::: I have a fever, a sinusy nose (heaven forbid it actually run @@), an awful sore throat, and runny eyes. I never run fevers. Okay, so it's only 99, but my normal temp is around 97.1.

I've been taking Vitamin C. I've been drinking water. I'm waiting on a lemon so I can make my favorite throat concoction (1 mug of hot water, plus 1 tsp of lemon juice and 1 tsp of honey). I'm whiny. I'm sick as a dog, and I have to nurse two also-sick kids (although H's only had a mildly snotty nose, and a mild cough--no fevers for either boy). N's eyes have the nastiest green goo collecting in the corners, and while breastmilk cleared H's eyes up in 2 days flat, N won't hold still long enough for me to get near him with the milk dropper. N's now on antibiotic eye drops (I've seriously never seen ickier eyes--poor baby).

I'm getting a headache, and DH is off enjoying the screening of War of the Worlds (a perk of theater management). I would have gone, too, but a) I'm sick, and b) my mom preferred to go to bed rather than watch the kids (that's really okay, I wouldn't want to watch sick, tired monkeys either).

DH has tomorrow off, and he's finally going to get the blasted A/C fixed in my Jeep. I've been driving around in 99 degree temps, in a vehicle with no A/C whatsoever, and a black leather interior. I haaaaaaaate heat and humidity.

And N's up again, so now I have to take us all off to bed...........

Forget Tandoori Chicken

2005-06-21T23:34:00.000-07:00

We had Indian food with my dad for Father's Day. I enjoyed a lovely buffet including Tandoori Chicken, Chicken Sixty-Five, rice, and the best Naan I've had in a long time. H latched on that night, and is now, 48 hours later, comfortably latched on yet again. I haven't had more than an hour's break since Sunday night. My nips are killing me. I'm wondering if H's thinking, "Forget Tandoori Chicken, I'll go for Tandoori Milk instead."

Or he could have just hit the 12 week growth spurt a week early. Ow.

The Joys of Toddler Nursing

2005-06-20T19:10:00.000-07:00

N is nursing.

and popping off in between little vocalizing interludes...

doo doo doo doo, doo doo, doooooooo :::Jeopardy theme:::

doo doo, doo doo, DOOT! doo-doo-doo-doo

doo doo, doo doo, doo doo, doooooooooo

doot-doo doo doo, doo. doo. doo.

It's happened!

2005-06-18T23:53:00.000-07:00

You know how people always say, "When I win the lottery, I'll :::insert cool thing here::::"? Ours was, "When I win the lottery, I'll pay off the credit cards, the car, and the house, and then take all of our friends on an awesome vacation."

Realistically, however, it's more like, "I'll buy myself a cup of coffee at Starbucks."

We went to DH's friend Andy's wedding tonight. The bride's father passed out lottery tickets (scratch-offs) as favors. DH won four bucks.

So much for lottery dreams....

Suspended Animation

2005-06-16T23:22:00.000-07:00

So, this might help LunaSea, who seems to have sent all of the ants to my place. If the nasty little buggers pop up again, kill them with Dawn.

In my everlasting tidiness, I left an empty juice glass by the computer. I came in a little later to remove it, and found ants all over the bottom of it. I took it to the kitchen and squirted dish soap in it, and now the ants are in some sort of strange suspended animation. Either way, they're not moving anymore, and I hope they're dead. I hate ants. They rank just below spiders and snakes.

H has the beginning of an ear infection. This is uncharted territory for us, as N has never had an ear infection in his life. So we're squirting breastmilk in it while we complete the three day wait to see if we'll need antibiotics. N has a cold. My poor babies. :( I hate it when they're sick.

I did it!

2005-06-14T20:29:00.000-07:00

I took both boys to the doctor's office with me today, and I survived. :)
I think this officially counts as taking both monkeys stroller-free on an errand for me.

In other news, my doc rocks. When I informed him I wanted to donate breastmik, he said that was great, immediately signed off on it and ordered my bloodwork, he then proceeded to say several times how great an idea he thought it was, and how he wished donor breastmilk were more widely available.

Heh

2005-06-06T21:51:00.000-07:00

Seen on a church marquee: "Pastor told me to change the sign--I did."

2005-05-24T23:27:00.000-07:00

Me.