Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Meet Baby "Lumpy"
The whole 3-D thing is cool in concept, and makes the baby look more real, but it's also a little freaky...
Waiting for snow...
Did you know that only 7 of every 100 Christamses in Seattle is white? We learned that last year when the small sprinkling of snow on Dec 25th caused a regional frenzy--and it didn't even stick. This year we might actually get one--if it will ever start snowing. It was supposed to start last night. We're still waiting. They assure us that it's coming...makes me feel like a kid waiting for candy that keeps being dangled further away. Well, at least maybe I can get a little shopping done today after all.
The drawback to the possibility of a White Christamas is that in order for snow to stay the temperature must be below 32 degrees. We've been setting the stage for awhile now--it hasn't risen above that for nearly a week. Brr. On Monday morning, as I left the house at 7 AM (ungodly early for me) for our first ultrasound appointment, the car thermometer kindly informed me that it was 20 degrees. Thank God we have a garage, it delayed my exposure my another 30 minutes.
And yes, we saw the baby! Troy was really antsy about doing prenatal genetic testing (which we didn't do with Morgan, as we were so low risk), as he has heard me say that your risk rises as you age (why does he hear stuff like that, but not, "can you take out the garbage?"). He decided that it was more necessary as I am *GASP* over 30 now (by two months), and I agreed mainly as there is a newer option for the screening that includes an ultrasound. While I was laid low with the 1st trimester yucks, and my mood was suffering, I had much anxiety about the wellbieng of the baby--so much so that I decided the possible risk of ultrasound (and yes, there is potential risk-those sound waves are shaking the baby's brain) was not worse (to me) than the damage being done by my high stress levels. So in I went. Unfortunately Troy and the kids were unable to come, as he had a meeting he couldn't miss and we didn't have a sitter (we made the appt late and they only had that time slot). Luckily by Monday I was feeling SOOOOOO much better and lighter of spirit that being alone did not terrify me. There was breath holding during the initial nudging around with the wand, then all of the sudden there was our baby--arms, legs, fingers, toes, heartbeat and everything. As always, an amazing and humbling experience. Further enhaced by our risk of Down's being 1 in 3,947 (chromosomal disorers were 1 in 41,000). I told Troy we weren't at risk. Baby was right on schedule and VERY active. Oh well, we're all much more relaxed and happy now, and may even forgoe the 20 wk scan as we (meaning I) don't care to know the gender, anyway, and they've already checked for everything else. We got some great pics (our first in 3-D) and a DVD so the kids and Troy were able to watch it that evening--the kids are enthralled. They've watched it several times. The really cool thing about the DVD was that the u/s tech turned on the sound to capture the heart rate, so we have a recording of that, too! And if we do decide to have the 20 wk scan, they'll add it onto the same disc. Technology, man. It's a trip. I'll post some u/s pics later.
The drawback to the possibility of a White Christamas is that in order for snow to stay the temperature must be below 32 degrees. We've been setting the stage for awhile now--it hasn't risen above that for nearly a week. Brr. On Monday morning, as I left the house at 7 AM (ungodly early for me) for our first ultrasound appointment, the car thermometer kindly informed me that it was 20 degrees. Thank God we have a garage, it delayed my exposure my another 30 minutes.
And yes, we saw the baby! Troy was really antsy about doing prenatal genetic testing (which we didn't do with Morgan, as we were so low risk), as he has heard me say that your risk rises as you age (why does he hear stuff like that, but not, "can you take out the garbage?"). He decided that it was more necessary as I am *GASP* over 30 now (by two months), and I agreed mainly as there is a newer option for the screening that includes an ultrasound. While I was laid low with the 1st trimester yucks, and my mood was suffering, I had much anxiety about the wellbieng of the baby--so much so that I decided the possible risk of ultrasound (and yes, there is potential risk-those sound waves are shaking the baby's brain) was not worse (to me) than the damage being done by my high stress levels. So in I went. Unfortunately Troy and the kids were unable to come, as he had a meeting he couldn't miss and we didn't have a sitter (we made the appt late and they only had that time slot). Luckily by Monday I was feeling SOOOOOO much better and lighter of spirit that being alone did not terrify me. There was breath holding during the initial nudging around with the wand, then all of the sudden there was our baby--arms, legs, fingers, toes, heartbeat and everything. As always, an amazing and humbling experience. Further enhaced by our risk of Down's being 1 in 3,947 (chromosomal disorers were 1 in 41,000). I told Troy we weren't at risk. Baby was right on schedule and VERY active. Oh well, we're all much more relaxed and happy now, and may even forgoe the 20 wk scan as we (meaning I) don't care to know the gender, anyway, and they've already checked for everything else. We got some great pics (our first in 3-D) and a DVD so the kids and Troy were able to watch it that evening--the kids are enthralled. They've watched it several times. The really cool thing about the DVD was that the u/s tech turned on the sound to capture the heart rate, so we have a recording of that, too! And if we do decide to have the 20 wk scan, they'll add it onto the same disc. Technology, man. It's a trip. I'll post some u/s pics later.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Baby update
So I realized I never got around to posting about our first midwife appt (or our Disneyland trip, or Halloween, or Thanksgiving--I'll get to it). It was awesome, of course-Valerie was running behind as her prior appt had been 1/2 hour late (we cut them slack, their baby was just a week old), but that gave us time to re-introduce the kids to the birth center, show them the family room stocked with toys, and fill out all the new-pregnancy paperwork. Val was so excited to see us that she actually ducked out of her appt (they were with the student midwife) to come and give me a gigantic hug.
Once in the room (they conduct all their appointments in the birth suites, which are like really nice jacuzzi suites at the Hyatt), we settled into the loveseat and chairs to chat while the kids continued to play with the toys they'd brought in from the family room-Val actually spent about half the hour we were there playing with Garrett while the student midwife asked me all the standard questions--Val was still paying attention as she would interject if she heard something interesting or unusual, but never took her focus off Garrett-who now thinks she is a Goddess of Superglue (they were fixing toys). Morgan got in on the action, too, and by the time we left both kids were totally comfortable and happy--what doc's office could have accomplished that?? I wouldn't have even been able to take them with me to an OB.
Val even spent time just talking to Troy (while I was in the bathroom), asking about work and how he's feeling about the pregnancy--then they discussed the possibility of homebirth (yes, we are considering it!) and what that would mean for him (not much, they take care of all the clean-up). I moved over to the bed and Val let Garrett help carry the supplies she needed for my blood draw and explained everything as she went so he wasn't nervous at all. He sat right next to me on the bed and held my hand, and was very surprised when I didn't cry.
After that Troy and Morgan joined us on the bed as Val wielded the almighty Doppler--I was a little over ten weeks, so there was a possibility of hearing hear tones. With our history this is always the most anxiety-ridden part of a pregnancy for me, and I was prepared to request an ultrasound if she couldn't hear it. After a few tense moments, there came that reassuring whoofwhoofwhoof--Val squeezed my hand in her free one, and we both teared up. Then away the little rascal flitted. Morgan hadn't even noticed the noise, but Garrett had (when he first heard Morgan's heart in utero, when he was not quite 2, he jumped up startled and announced, "Is a doggy!").
So everything was hunky-dorey, my blood pressure was a little low which explains the light-headedness I'd been having, and as we prepared to leave (with lots more hugs from Val), Garrett became very upset and said, "we AREN'T leaving, the midwife still needs to get the baby out!!" Apparently he got confused with our purpose, and was very distressed (even though we've discussed at length how long the baby will be inside me and when it will come out). I felt so bad. So most of us left happy.
I just wish that every woman choosing an ob/hospital birth would have the opportunity to have one meeting with a really good midwife before making that choice. Would you buy the first car you test-drive just because it's the car everyone else is driving? Not that OB's and hospitals don't have their place, when there is danger present, they do a great job getting through it (usually). But a normal birth isn't dangerous, and by treating it as though it is modern medicine has created danger where it wouldn't normally be (since the introduction of continuous fetal monitoring, for example--making moms where monitors that check baby's heart and mom's contraction strength throughout labor--the c-sect rate has sky-rocketed with no change in maternal/fetal outcome. The monitors are notoriously inaccurate, but docs treat them as though they aren't and are often cutting open perfectly healthy women with perfectly healthy babies for no reason--so a woman that requests intermittent monitoring has already lowered her risk of surgery without compromising her or the baby's health).
Holy cow, I've accidentally climbed on my soapbox. Sorry about that. Bottom line, birth is a healthy, normal, really super-cool experience and I anxiously anticipate doing it again!
Once in the room (they conduct all their appointments in the birth suites, which are like really nice jacuzzi suites at the Hyatt), we settled into the loveseat and chairs to chat while the kids continued to play with the toys they'd brought in from the family room-Val actually spent about half the hour we were there playing with Garrett while the student midwife asked me all the standard questions--Val was still paying attention as she would interject if she heard something interesting or unusual, but never took her focus off Garrett-who now thinks she is a Goddess of Superglue (they were fixing toys). Morgan got in on the action, too, and by the time we left both kids were totally comfortable and happy--what doc's office could have accomplished that?? I wouldn't have even been able to take them with me to an OB.
Val even spent time just talking to Troy (while I was in the bathroom), asking about work and how he's feeling about the pregnancy--then they discussed the possibility of homebirth (yes, we are considering it!) and what that would mean for him (not much, they take care of all the clean-up). I moved over to the bed and Val let Garrett help carry the supplies she needed for my blood draw and explained everything as she went so he wasn't nervous at all. He sat right next to me on the bed and held my hand, and was very surprised when I didn't cry.
After that Troy and Morgan joined us on the bed as Val wielded the almighty Doppler--I was a little over ten weeks, so there was a possibility of hearing hear tones. With our history this is always the most anxiety-ridden part of a pregnancy for me, and I was prepared to request an ultrasound if she couldn't hear it. After a few tense moments, there came that reassuring whoofwhoofwhoof--Val squeezed my hand in her free one, and we both teared up. Then away the little rascal flitted. Morgan hadn't even noticed the noise, but Garrett had (when he first heard Morgan's heart in utero, when he was not quite 2, he jumped up startled and announced, "Is a doggy!").
So everything was hunky-dorey, my blood pressure was a little low which explains the light-headedness I'd been having, and as we prepared to leave (with lots more hugs from Val), Garrett became very upset and said, "we AREN'T leaving, the midwife still needs to get the baby out!!" Apparently he got confused with our purpose, and was very distressed (even though we've discussed at length how long the baby will be inside me and when it will come out). I felt so bad. So most of us left happy.
I just wish that every woman choosing an ob/hospital birth would have the opportunity to have one meeting with a really good midwife before making that choice. Would you buy the first car you test-drive just because it's the car everyone else is driving? Not that OB's and hospitals don't have their place, when there is danger present, they do a great job getting through it (usually). But a normal birth isn't dangerous, and by treating it as though it is modern medicine has created danger where it wouldn't normally be (since the introduction of continuous fetal monitoring, for example--making moms where monitors that check baby's heart and mom's contraction strength throughout labor--the c-sect rate has sky-rocketed with no change in maternal/fetal outcome. The monitors are notoriously inaccurate, but docs treat them as though they aren't and are often cutting open perfectly healthy women with perfectly healthy babies for no reason--so a woman that requests intermittent monitoring has already lowered her risk of surgery without compromising her or the baby's health).
Holy cow, I've accidentally climbed on my soapbox. Sorry about that. Bottom line, birth is a healthy, normal, really super-cool experience and I anxiously anticipate doing it again!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
One more check box filled
Hooray, hooray, I finally submitted my packet to be approved for my birth doula certification. I say yay, finally, because I finished the work portion in August, but it's taken me this long to gather all the needed paperwork and letters, and write essays, self-assessments and such. Holy cow, they are thorough.
In case you are wondering, being a doula is not a licensed profession--which means there are no requirements that have to be met in order to practice. There are lots of lay doulas out there (meaning uncertified, sometimes trained, sometimes not, etc)-those doulas who choose to certify do it for a number of reasons--mainly because it gives a doula more credibility in the community (and because you can charge more). The certification process is not difficult, but time consuming. I was hoping to submit in September, but just had a heck of a time tying up all my loose ends (getting pregnant can really throw a wrench in the works).
But hooray, it's done, Troy can stop bugging me, I don't have to work during the holidays, and I just contracted with a lovely couple due in a couple months, so all is peachy in the world of doula-ing. I took the kids to a member meeting for my doula orginization (PALS Doula), and while trying to explain to Garrett that we were meeting with several other doulas (ladies who help other ladiea have babies) he spewed off a volley of inquiries, "Am I going to help a baby be born?" "Will we get to see the babies?" "Are we going to be there all day and all night and all day?" and my personal favorite, when asked if he remembered what a doula was, "Is that like when you swing your hips inside a big circle?" When I relayed that to one of the senior doulas, she cracked up--coining the pharse ,"doula hoops." Which actually isn't a bad idea-I've contemplated bringing hoops to births to help show a mother how to rotate her pelvis to nudge the baby into descending. I smell a marketing plan.......
In unrelated news, today my children got to video-conference with their great-grandmother and grea-aunt in Arkansas, whom they haven't seen for two years. When they moved away, my grandma told me, "I'm just afraid I'll never get to see you again." Best Buy should do a commercial about us. Right about now I'm loving technology.
In case you are wondering, being a doula is not a licensed profession--which means there are no requirements that have to be met in order to practice. There are lots of lay doulas out there (meaning uncertified, sometimes trained, sometimes not, etc)-those doulas who choose to certify do it for a number of reasons--mainly because it gives a doula more credibility in the community (and because you can charge more). The certification process is not difficult, but time consuming. I was hoping to submit in September, but just had a heck of a time tying up all my loose ends (getting pregnant can really throw a wrench in the works).
But hooray, it's done, Troy can stop bugging me, I don't have to work during the holidays, and I just contracted with a lovely couple due in a couple months, so all is peachy in the world of doula-ing. I took the kids to a member meeting for my doula orginization (PALS Doula), and while trying to explain to Garrett that we were meeting with several other doulas (ladies who help other ladiea have babies) he spewed off a volley of inquiries, "Am I going to help a baby be born?" "Will we get to see the babies?" "Are we going to be there all day and all night and all day?" and my personal favorite, when asked if he remembered what a doula was, "Is that like when you swing your hips inside a big circle?" When I relayed that to one of the senior doulas, she cracked up--coining the pharse ,"doula hoops." Which actually isn't a bad idea-I've contemplated bringing hoops to births to help show a mother how to rotate her pelvis to nudge the baby into descending. I smell a marketing plan.......
In unrelated news, today my children got to video-conference with their great-grandmother and grea-aunt in Arkansas, whom they haven't seen for two years. When they moved away, my grandma told me, "I'm just afraid I'll never get to see you again." Best Buy should do a commercial about us. Right about now I'm loving technology.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Yup, my oven works.
Meaning there's a bun in it (for those who didn't catch the "morning sickness" reference in the last post). As of tomorrow I will be 9 wks, with only 4-5 more to go before I can begin to feel normal (well, pregnancy normal)!! Hooray! That means little bun will be ready to be nibbled (food references weirding anyone out yet?) mid-June. At the moment I am tremendously excited about two things: 1. I am going in for acupuncture next week to relieve my nausea, and 2. a week from Monday I have my first appointment with my midwives!! For any who weren't along for the ride when I was pregnant with Morgan, I am completely in love with my midwives. They are fantastically wonderful, compassionate, sensitive women who give their clients the respect, care, expertise and love that we deserve. Both of my children's births were wonderful and unforgettable, but Morgan's was transformative in none but positive ways. After Garrett was born (in a hospital, with an on-call OB I'd never met), I was determined that my next would be better--not that anything went "wrong" but there were things that weren't right, either. Like the nurse trying to talk me into an epidural I told her I didn't want, or his cord being cut before I'd even held him, or the caregivers being strangers, or the bright lights, absence of noise, sterility of the environment, etc. With Morgan there was no compromising, no coercion, I was not at the mercy of the all-powerful doctor. What I wanted, I got. And she was born into warm water, and soft music, dim lights and candles, in a room full of people who already knew and loved her (insert plug for the Puget Sound Birth Center and Lake Washington Midwives here). I was completely in charge and delivered her according to the cues of my body, with no damage to her or to me (a claim most hospital births cannot make).
I know I go on about my experiences quite a lot, but how can I not when they had such an impact on my life? I have no fear about birth--I have nothing but excitement and anticipation and I can't wait to see my lovely ladies and get the process started!
Garrett and Morgan are very excited as well, Garrett keeps asking me technical questions (how big is the baby today? Is the baby eating what you're eating?), and Morgan walks around with her shirt pulled up and her belly pushed out showing everyone HER baby. Which I find very interesting as my belly isn't growing yet, but still she knows to make hers look big. She's only really caught on to what's happening in the last week or so. Even when she was jumping up and down in the restaurant booth shouting "We're having a baby! We're having a baby!" to my mother-in-law (who totally didn't get it, even though she said it about ten times-MIL decided she was telling her "thank you"), she apparently didn' t hear what she was saying but merely repeated what Daddy told her to say.
And Troy is getting excited, also. He was kind of stunned there for awhile (even though he was sort of involved in the planning stages), but is remembering that getting ready for a baby is fun, and teasing me when I'm pregnant is even funn-er. His favorite part is getting to eat whatever he wants--see, I become very auto-suggestive. I might not have specific cravings, but if I see, read about, or hear about specific foods I suddenly have an overwhelming desire to eat that food. Troy abuses this aspect of my pregnancies. We ate a lot of pizza and cheeseburgers in my previous pregnancies (except this time I can't have gluten!! So HAHAHA devious husband!).
So there you have it, baby number three. If anyone is reading this and is totally stunned and wondering why I didn't call you personally, I completely apologize--we've had so much going on and I've been feeling so lousy that I can't even remember who knows and who doesn't. So it was either this or calling everyone we know with a lame "so, have we told you anything important lately? No? Well, guess what!"
I know I go on about my experiences quite a lot, but how can I not when they had such an impact on my life? I have no fear about birth--I have nothing but excitement and anticipation and I can't wait to see my lovely ladies and get the process started!
Garrett and Morgan are very excited as well, Garrett keeps asking me technical questions (how big is the baby today? Is the baby eating what you're eating?), and Morgan walks around with her shirt pulled up and her belly pushed out showing everyone HER baby. Which I find very interesting as my belly isn't growing yet, but still she knows to make hers look big. She's only really caught on to what's happening in the last week or so. Even when she was jumping up and down in the restaurant booth shouting "We're having a baby! We're having a baby!" to my mother-in-law (who totally didn't get it, even though she said it about ten times-MIL decided she was telling her "thank you"), she apparently didn' t hear what she was saying but merely repeated what Daddy told her to say.
And Troy is getting excited, also. He was kind of stunned there for awhile (even though he was sort of involved in the planning stages), but is remembering that getting ready for a baby is fun, and teasing me when I'm pregnant is even funn-er. His favorite part is getting to eat whatever he wants--see, I become very auto-suggestive. I might not have specific cravings, but if I see, read about, or hear about specific foods I suddenly have an overwhelming desire to eat that food. Troy abuses this aspect of my pregnancies. We ate a lot of pizza and cheeseburgers in my previous pregnancies (except this time I can't have gluten!! So HAHAHA devious husband!).
So there you have it, baby number three. If anyone is reading this and is totally stunned and wondering why I didn't call you personally, I completely apologize--we've had so much going on and I've been feeling so lousy that I can't even remember who knows and who doesn't. So it was either this or calling everyone we know with a lame "so, have we told you anything important lately? No? Well, guess what!"
Friday, November 7, 2008
It's cold up here.
So somewhere in the last 30 days it became winter in the Pacific Northwest, which basically means it is very, very wet. And cold. Not freezing, but there is a distinctive nip in the air. This is not a complaint, I love fall and we were actually quite lucky through October, having a long streak of gorgeous, sunny fall days. The reason I bring all this up is that the second floor of our very old house is maybe not so well insulated, and since we don't sleep up here maybe not always habitated--meaning it can be cold. And it's where we keep the computer. So if I don't feel like getting frostbite in my fingers I might avoid getting online for days at a time. I suppose it's good that I have phone's then, so that my devoted fan base can still contact me.
This is my long-winded way of explaining my prolonged absence from the blogosphere. That and I was in CA for a week and a half, and my mom came home with us, and we've been busy doing things much more interesting and entertaining than typing. Sorry. I do intend to post pics from our trip and Halloween (our costumes where AWESOME) when I finally get 'round to uploading them.
Mostly right now I want to address current events. For the second consecutive time in a presidential campaign, I cried on election night. Four years ago I cried tears of despair, anger, and frustration-I lamented the simple fact that my baby would be five years old before we would throw off the shackles that I felt binding us. This past Tuesday I cried for very different reasons--it was like a shell had been built around me, a shell of mud, layer after layer sealing me in through the eight years of chaos and discord our nation has endured. And Tuesday night that shell cracked. Peices fell away, and I could see clearly that there really is a new path. The power felt that night, an uprising of voices held silent for so long, was overwhelming. Cars honking, people yelling as they drove, sharing celebration with strangers just because they could. That night there was a spontaneous gathering of thousands of people in the streets of Seattle, people who might never have met otherwise, needing to validate their own euphoria--being pulled together for joy and hope. Together. When was the last time we stood together? A time that didn't involve sorrow and disaster? A time that, purely and simply, made us glad to be who we are--made us proud.
I know there are those who do not share my sentiments, and to you I am sorry. I am sorry you can't see what the rest of the world sees, and am sorry you fear for yourself rather than reveling in the salvation of others. I hope that as the next four years pass, and the mood of our nation lifts, that you feel it and acknowledge the many reasons that mood sank so low to begin with. And I hope that our memories are long and that we give our country adequate time to heal before we decide we don't need fixing anymore.
And lastly, to those of you so engrossed the in Twilight series, I've spent considerable time in Port Angeles over the last 12 years. I've been into the bookstore she described as too "hippy" (it's mostly travel books, gifts and souvenieres with some comics-Troy lived in there when he was growing up), I've walked every downtown street--I've eaten in La Bella Italia. There is no area with warehouses and loading docks all in a row, no shiny boardwalk, no seedy bar right near the McDonald's. Apparently she got her info from map websites and the PA tourism board website. Kinda spoiled the illusion for me. And you wouldn't make a day trip from Forks to Seattle. It's a four-hour drive each way (with someone other than Edward driving). And while she is a good writer, very engaging and all (and I might be run out of town on a rail for saying this), upon finishing the first book I couldn't figure what the hoopla was about. I enjoyed it, but didn't feel my life had been changed and honestly, the only reason I read it in two days was because I kept trying to get to where the plot started. Not to be dismissive I did go out and get New Moon--I'm not very far into it but can see it's already more intriguing, so maybe the plotlines will improve now that characters are established.
And may I suggest to those of you drawn to the alllure of the vampire, pick up the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris. Fun, intense, and they get to have sex (I'm not LDS, I didn't buy Edward being able to hold back). Her writing is not as pretty as Stephanie Meyers, but the characters are great and the story makes up for it.
Wow. What an all-over the place post. If I though I could put off doing laundry any longer, I'd tell you all about our adventure in Disneyland. Or Garrett's and my birthday party. Or how horribley morning-sick I've been ;).
This is my long-winded way of explaining my prolonged absence from the blogosphere. That and I was in CA for a week and a half, and my mom came home with us, and we've been busy doing things much more interesting and entertaining than typing. Sorry. I do intend to post pics from our trip and Halloween (our costumes where AWESOME) when I finally get 'round to uploading them.
Mostly right now I want to address current events. For the second consecutive time in a presidential campaign, I cried on election night. Four years ago I cried tears of despair, anger, and frustration-I lamented the simple fact that my baby would be five years old before we would throw off the shackles that I felt binding us. This past Tuesday I cried for very different reasons--it was like a shell had been built around me, a shell of mud, layer after layer sealing me in through the eight years of chaos and discord our nation has endured. And Tuesday night that shell cracked. Peices fell away, and I could see clearly that there really is a new path. The power felt that night, an uprising of voices held silent for so long, was overwhelming. Cars honking, people yelling as they drove, sharing celebration with strangers just because they could. That night there was a spontaneous gathering of thousands of people in the streets of Seattle, people who might never have met otherwise, needing to validate their own euphoria--being pulled together for joy and hope. Together. When was the last time we stood together? A time that didn't involve sorrow and disaster? A time that, purely and simply, made us glad to be who we are--made us proud.
I know there are those who do not share my sentiments, and to you I am sorry. I am sorry you can't see what the rest of the world sees, and am sorry you fear for yourself rather than reveling in the salvation of others. I hope that as the next four years pass, and the mood of our nation lifts, that you feel it and acknowledge the many reasons that mood sank so low to begin with. And I hope that our memories are long and that we give our country adequate time to heal before we decide we don't need fixing anymore.
And lastly, to those of you so engrossed the in Twilight series, I've spent considerable time in Port Angeles over the last 12 years. I've been into the bookstore she described as too "hippy" (it's mostly travel books, gifts and souvenieres with some comics-Troy lived in there when he was growing up), I've walked every downtown street--I've eaten in La Bella Italia. There is no area with warehouses and loading docks all in a row, no shiny boardwalk, no seedy bar right near the McDonald's. Apparently she got her info from map websites and the PA tourism board website. Kinda spoiled the illusion for me. And you wouldn't make a day trip from Forks to Seattle. It's a four-hour drive each way (with someone other than Edward driving). And while she is a good writer, very engaging and all (and I might be run out of town on a rail for saying this), upon finishing the first book I couldn't figure what the hoopla was about. I enjoyed it, but didn't feel my life had been changed and honestly, the only reason I read it in two days was because I kept trying to get to where the plot started. Not to be dismissive I did go out and get New Moon--I'm not very far into it but can see it's already more intriguing, so maybe the plotlines will improve now that characters are established.
And may I suggest to those of you drawn to the alllure of the vampire, pick up the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris. Fun, intense, and they get to have sex (I'm not LDS, I didn't buy Edward being able to hold back). Her writing is not as pretty as Stephanie Meyers, but the characters are great and the story makes up for it.
Wow. What an all-over the place post. If I though I could put off doing laundry any longer, I'd tell you all about our adventure in Disneyland. Or Garrett's and my birthday party. Or how horribley morning-sick I've been ;).
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Playing catch-up
There are so many things I am trying to prepare for, I cannot decide which to work on first--so I begin organizing the house to make costume-making easier, then abandon that in favor of the costume-making which causes the house to be more disorganized. Add that to the tremendous amount of food prep I do daily, and the standard laundry/dishes/sweeping cycle, plus Garrett's new gymnastics and sports classes, plus trying to finish my doula certification packet before the next board meeting, plus continuing to do doula work, and I can't seem to fit any more hours into the day which doesn't help my plight at all.
I am not a super-mom. I am not a do-everything look-perfect person. I do not harbor any desire to keep myself constantly busy. I ENJOY leisure time. So this is make me a little whack-oh. I should explain why all these things need doing, like, right now: we are leaving for CA on Wed and will be gone for 9 days. I will be bringing my mother back with me, and would like the house clean and nice for her. We will be trick-or-treating at California Adventure (did I mention we're going to Disneyland, hooray!), so costumes must be done way early. I am making Morgan's and my costumes from scratch (like with patterns and everything), and they will be awesome if they are ever done. When we get home we will have 6 days to prepare for our birthday/Halloween party (which reminds me, I need to invite people to that), plus actually celebrate our birthdays, plus work on some house projects as Troy is off that week.
Oh, and I haven't had a chance to blog about it, but we've taken the kids off gluten (to clear up a bizarre mystery rash they both get), and limited their dairy intake. So I must make even MORE things from scratch now (for anyone who is unaware, I've gone mega-granola in the last few years-the only prepared foods we still buy are crackers and cereal), meaning homemade crackers and granola (no pun) plus new and more complicated recipes for baked goods (I want to cry at having to abandon my killer whole-wheat buttermilk pancake recipe). I love making food, and I love that my kids eating only good things that I have complete control of it terms of quality and ingredients. But my kitchen is always a mess (if I haven't JUST cleaned it) and I don't have much counter space. But it's fun most of the time, like this morning when Garrett was helping me juice carrots and cauliflower, parsley, kale, cucumber and yellow squash (the last we grew ourselves!). Sounds fantastic, don't it? It's a chugging sort of beverage.
So anyway, here's the end result of all this craziness: it's easy to find most things in my house, because they have a designated place and get returned there. There are exceptions (has anyone scene my glasses?). We will look awesome for Halloween, and will have a really cool party to celebrate with our friends. We get to see my family, and visit the Magic Kingdom. We will have tostadas for dinner with refried beans I make myself (super-yum!). Our house and yard will begin to actually look like the work we've done there has a purpose. We will continue to be healthy and happy, and my kids will no longer have blisters (from the gluten). Garrett has experienced a life-changing transformation, as the removal of gluten from his diet (along with a more rigid eating schedule-every two hrs-an increase in protein, fish oil, and Cinnamon and addition of magnesium supplements) has made such a marked improvement on his ability to control himself and regulate his behavior. Not that he's been a complete wild-child (for those who haven't met him), but he has a history of what I call "the crazies"-where he will suddenly just lose all sense of judgment and impulse control. When it happens you can see in his eyes that he doesn't like it, but he can't stop it-and I become the mom chasing her kid constantly scolding "Not stop that, don't do that, put that down, let go of that," a chant I'm sure you've all encountered in a crowded shopping mall or playground. What's always been so frustrating is that Garrett is by nature very sweet, gentle, and remarkably smart-but those qualities do not show when he succumbs to the crazies. It's taken a year of diet modifications and supplement experimentation, but we seem to have finally cracked it--and oh, is he a happier child. And oh, are we happier parents.
So while I'm running my hind-end off trying to complete my to-dos, I wanted to take a minute (or ten) to remind myself what it's all for, and that we are so thankful for what we have and who we are. We have so many opportunities to be joyful--I just need to slow down and enjoy my joy.
I am not a super-mom. I am not a do-everything look-perfect person. I do not harbor any desire to keep myself constantly busy. I ENJOY leisure time. So this is make me a little whack-oh. I should explain why all these things need doing, like, right now: we are leaving for CA on Wed and will be gone for 9 days. I will be bringing my mother back with me, and would like the house clean and nice for her. We will be trick-or-treating at California Adventure (did I mention we're going to Disneyland, hooray!), so costumes must be done way early. I am making Morgan's and my costumes from scratch (like with patterns and everything), and they will be awesome if they are ever done. When we get home we will have 6 days to prepare for our birthday/Halloween party (which reminds me, I need to invite people to that), plus actually celebrate our birthdays, plus work on some house projects as Troy is off that week.
Oh, and I haven't had a chance to blog about it, but we've taken the kids off gluten (to clear up a bizarre mystery rash they both get), and limited their dairy intake. So I must make even MORE things from scratch now (for anyone who is unaware, I've gone mega-granola in the last few years-the only prepared foods we still buy are crackers and cereal), meaning homemade crackers and granola (no pun) plus new and more complicated recipes for baked goods (I want to cry at having to abandon my killer whole-wheat buttermilk pancake recipe). I love making food, and I love that my kids eating only good things that I have complete control of it terms of quality and ingredients. But my kitchen is always a mess (if I haven't JUST cleaned it) and I don't have much counter space. But it's fun most of the time, like this morning when Garrett was helping me juice carrots and cauliflower, parsley, kale, cucumber and yellow squash (the last we grew ourselves!). Sounds fantastic, don't it? It's a chugging sort of beverage.
So anyway, here's the end result of all this craziness: it's easy to find most things in my house, because they have a designated place and get returned there. There are exceptions (has anyone scene my glasses?). We will look awesome for Halloween, and will have a really cool party to celebrate with our friends. We get to see my family, and visit the Magic Kingdom. We will have tostadas for dinner with refried beans I make myself (super-yum!). Our house and yard will begin to actually look like the work we've done there has a purpose. We will continue to be healthy and happy, and my kids will no longer have blisters (from the gluten). Garrett has experienced a life-changing transformation, as the removal of gluten from his diet (along with a more rigid eating schedule-every two hrs-an increase in protein, fish oil, and Cinnamon and addition of magnesium supplements) has made such a marked improvement on his ability to control himself and regulate his behavior. Not that he's been a complete wild-child (for those who haven't met him), but he has a history of what I call "the crazies"-where he will suddenly just lose all sense of judgment and impulse control. When it happens you can see in his eyes that he doesn't like it, but he can't stop it-and I become the mom chasing her kid constantly scolding "Not stop that, don't do that, put that down, let go of that," a chant I'm sure you've all encountered in a crowded shopping mall or playground. What's always been so frustrating is that Garrett is by nature very sweet, gentle, and remarkably smart-but those qualities do not show when he succumbs to the crazies. It's taken a year of diet modifications and supplement experimentation, but we seem to have finally cracked it--and oh, is he a happier child. And oh, are we happier parents.
So while I'm running my hind-end off trying to complete my to-dos, I wanted to take a minute (or ten) to remind myself what it's all for, and that we are so thankful for what we have and who we are. We have so many opportunities to be joyful--I just need to slow down and enjoy my joy.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Fun with sleepy children.
Troy went in to check on the kids last night after they had been in bed awhile. Garrett was having a tough time settling down due to a dream he had about evil pumpkins the night before (he loves Nightmare Before Christmas). Garrett was apparently asleep, with his pillow over his head. When Troy moved it, the following exchange occurred:
G (very groggy): I was under that to hide from the scary ghosts.
T: There are no ghosts here now.
G: What about scary pumpkins?
T: No, no scary pumpkins either.
G: Oh, then what's the problem?!?!
And back to sleep.
This might not translate that well in text, but we thought it was freakin' hilarious.
G (very groggy): I was under that to hide from the scary ghosts.
T: There are no ghosts here now.
G: What about scary pumpkins?
T: No, no scary pumpkins either.
G: Oh, then what's the problem?!?!
And back to sleep.
This might not translate that well in text, but we thought it was freakin' hilarious.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
The return of running water.
Hooray hooray, I say, for the return of running (or rather, draining) water! Seriously folks, we have not been able to use our main bathroom sink for TWO MONTHS. Two months. Ridiculous, right? Two months of hand-washing in the tub spigot, of tromping upstairs to brush our teeth (and holy god, finding my disgusting husband's toothbrush in front of the computer). Would you like to hear the tale of how it could possibly take two months to fix a sink? Of course you would.
Way-a-way back in July, in preparation for my sister's family's visit, I decided to finally tackle the slow-drain issue we had occurring in our main bathroom (we have three, but one is in the basement and the other is impossibly tiny and upstairs by the guest room). I am reasonably competent with plumbing matters, it isn't my favorite household task, but I do what needs to be done. So I set about disassembling the drain to clean out what I was sure was a nasty ole' hair clog. While what I encountered was indeed nasty, and hairy, it was not the cause of our blockage. And by the time I realized this, it was too late to delve any further prior to company coming, so we simply marked it out of order.
Now if you've been diligently reading this blog (and who hasn't?) then you know we've had a very busy summer and our poor sink just didn't rate high enough on the list of priorities to get much attention. We did eventually buy a manual auger (a long metal coiled cable with a screwy-lookin' thing on the end that you run down your pipe and then turn the crank to THEORETICALLY grab the clog and pull it out). Once again we met nasty emissions of sludge and slime and gunk, but still no drain. I can't even tell you how many times we dis-and re-assembled the drain-my fingers twinge thinking about it. And the auger-oh how I hate the auger! It twists and yanks, it's heavy, it fights with you and tries to climb back out, it sprays whatever it's collected ALL OVER if you wind it too tightly (I got it in the face last night), it leaves rust marks in coil patterns in the bottom of your tub, it is evil. And it didn't work. Couldn't move the clog.
This weekend was our last attempt. Last ditch effort. Final hoorang. Troy wanted to turn it over to a plumber weeks ago, but I persisted--why give some stranger hundreds of dollars to do a job we could do? We just needed time, and patience, and pants that sit too low. If this didn't work, we'd call in the big guns. It was a close call. In short, after cutting (yes CUTTING!) the pipe OFF with a reciprocating saw, running many manner of objects into and through the whole drainage system, being splattered with MORE yummy disgusting-ness, and finally ramming an extendable broom handle up the d$&% thing to break through the still immovable clog, then reassembling the whole system with the help of some really handle flexible couplings (nifty doo-dads that hold to ends of pipe together with a thick rubber tube and hose-clamps), WE HAVE DRAINAGE!!! WE HAVE REJOINED THE MODERN ERA OF INDOOR PLUMBING! HOORAY!
And let me say how cool I felt walking into McClendon's Hardware, by myself (which usually elicits odd questioning looks from old men and LOTS of "can I help you find something?" from employees), in my ratty best project clothes, covered in stains, smelling of decades old plumbing rot, and heading straight for the pipe department to get another coupling. Not one person asked if I needed assistance. Not one old man questioned my presence. Today, I was one of them.
Still not sure how I feel about that. But if it means I can use my bathroom sink, it must be good. Very, very good.
Way-a-way back in July, in preparation for my sister's family's visit, I decided to finally tackle the slow-drain issue we had occurring in our main bathroom (we have three, but one is in the basement and the other is impossibly tiny and upstairs by the guest room). I am reasonably competent with plumbing matters, it isn't my favorite household task, but I do what needs to be done. So I set about disassembling the drain to clean out what I was sure was a nasty ole' hair clog. While what I encountered was indeed nasty, and hairy, it was not the cause of our blockage. And by the time I realized this, it was too late to delve any further prior to company coming, so we simply marked it out of order.
Now if you've been diligently reading this blog (and who hasn't?) then you know we've had a very busy summer and our poor sink just didn't rate high enough on the list of priorities to get much attention. We did eventually buy a manual auger (a long metal coiled cable with a screwy-lookin' thing on the end that you run down your pipe and then turn the crank to THEORETICALLY grab the clog and pull it out). Once again we met nasty emissions of sludge and slime and gunk, but still no drain. I can't even tell you how many times we dis-and re-assembled the drain-my fingers twinge thinking about it. And the auger-oh how I hate the auger! It twists and yanks, it's heavy, it fights with you and tries to climb back out, it sprays whatever it's collected ALL OVER if you wind it too tightly (I got it in the face last night), it leaves rust marks in coil patterns in the bottom of your tub, it is evil. And it didn't work. Couldn't move the clog.
This weekend was our last attempt. Last ditch effort. Final hoorang. Troy wanted to turn it over to a plumber weeks ago, but I persisted--why give some stranger hundreds of dollars to do a job we could do? We just needed time, and patience, and pants that sit too low. If this didn't work, we'd call in the big guns. It was a close call. In short, after cutting (yes CUTTING!) the pipe OFF with a reciprocating saw, running many manner of objects into and through the whole drainage system, being splattered with MORE yummy disgusting-ness, and finally ramming an extendable broom handle up the d$&% thing to break through the still immovable clog, then reassembling the whole system with the help of some really handle flexible couplings (nifty doo-dads that hold to ends of pipe together with a thick rubber tube and hose-clamps), WE HAVE DRAINAGE!!! WE HAVE REJOINED THE MODERN ERA OF INDOOR PLUMBING! HOORAY!
And let me say how cool I felt walking into McClendon's Hardware, by myself (which usually elicits odd questioning looks from old men and LOTS of "can I help you find something?" from employees), in my ratty best project clothes, covered in stains, smelling of decades old plumbing rot, and heading straight for the pipe department to get another coupling. Not one person asked if I needed assistance. Not one old man questioned my presence. Today, I was one of them.
Still not sure how I feel about that. But if it means I can use my bathroom sink, it must be good. Very, very good.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Babies are stealing my summer.
Our weather has finally decided to warm up and be sunny--for the whole two weeks we have left before fall falls upon us. We have been frantically attempting to take advantage of it, as we still have mountains of things to finish and not much time left for finishing. It has not helped our scheduling that my last client decided to labor for 41 hours (no, I am not exaggerating, though I wasn't there the whole time, only the last 37 hours of it) or that exactly one week later I was called in to help out my partner who had two clients break their water the same day. So it the course of eight nights I spent 3 of them not sleeping. And hello, I should really get some sort of prize for heading home after last weekend's birth long enough to shower and change then head back out for an advanced doula training (I was over an hour late, but none of the other doulas held it against me ;) ). I then insisted Troy and the kids meet me that afternoon at our birth center's annual alumni picnic, at which I spent most of the time laying on a blanket on the ground. Again, it's a pretty understanding crowd--my midwife had also been up all night at a birth. She apologized to Troy for my being, "hooked on birth" and suggested he get together with her husband to complain about us.
The unfortunate side of this whole doula biz is that while, in general, birth is wonderful and fantastic and I arrive home exhausted but buzzing from the energy and joy of it, sometimes it doesn't go right and it leaves a deep emotional dent in me. This last birth went that way--due to a medical "oops" (read: neglect and ignorance) the client had to be delivered by c-sect. This is a young, single girl who had wanted beyond anything to have a gentle, interference free out-of-hospital birth and was only in the hospital because her midwife felt she needed a little help getting into labor (I won't get all technical, it's a standard protocal sort of situation). This girl had prepared herself fantastically well despite the fact that she had no one helping her, and all control was taken from her. And there wasn't anything I could do to help her out of that situation, I could merely try to help her through it. So I've been pretty frustrated and sad this week, which is really too bad as it eventually affects the kids-but they are troopers and love being able cheer me up. And Troy is at his best when I am at my worst, so I know I always have a pillar to hold me up. It amazes me how intuitively supportive he is, and how much he has picked up about pregnancy and birth from listening when I don't think he is. I start to lauch into an explanation of a certain procedure or term, and he'll jump in and finish it often surprising the pants off me. And I'm pretty sure by now he'd make a great lactation consultant (I actually overheard him discussing breastfeeding with a friend of his).
I am glad for the exposure to birth the kids are getting-they are growing up knowing that it is a healthy, normal process, difficult but gratifying. They love watching the videos of their own births (G calls them the "being born" movies) and marveling over how they once were such tiny, squirmy creatures. G asks lots of question when I get home from a birth, wanting to know how big the baby is and what I did that helped the mommy. I have to pat myself in the back for assuming that someday he's going to be a great support for whomever he becomes a parent with.
The unfortunate side of this whole doula biz is that while, in general, birth is wonderful and fantastic and I arrive home exhausted but buzzing from the energy and joy of it, sometimes it doesn't go right and it leaves a deep emotional dent in me. This last birth went that way--due to a medical "oops" (read: neglect and ignorance) the client had to be delivered by c-sect. This is a young, single girl who had wanted beyond anything to have a gentle, interference free out-of-hospital birth and was only in the hospital because her midwife felt she needed a little help getting into labor (I won't get all technical, it's a standard protocal sort of situation). This girl had prepared herself fantastically well despite the fact that she had no one helping her, and all control was taken from her. And there wasn't anything I could do to help her out of that situation, I could merely try to help her through it. So I've been pretty frustrated and sad this week, which is really too bad as it eventually affects the kids-but they are troopers and love being able cheer me up. And Troy is at his best when I am at my worst, so I know I always have a pillar to hold me up. It amazes me how intuitively supportive he is, and how much he has picked up about pregnancy and birth from listening when I don't think he is. I start to lauch into an explanation of a certain procedure or term, and he'll jump in and finish it often surprising the pants off me. And I'm pretty sure by now he'd make a great lactation consultant (I actually overheard him discussing breastfeeding with a friend of his).
I am glad for the exposure to birth the kids are getting-they are growing up knowing that it is a healthy, normal process, difficult but gratifying. They love watching the videos of their own births (G calls them the "being born" movies) and marveling over how they once were such tiny, squirmy creatures. G asks lots of question when I get home from a birth, wanting to know how big the baby is and what I did that helped the mommy. I have to pat myself in the back for assuming that someday he's going to be a great support for whomever he becomes a parent with.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Fun of Funder
We had a tremendous thunder storm roll through Monday afternoon (what is with all the electrical storms this summer?). Really tremendous, like Hollywood storms-never-really-sound-like-that tremendous. Woke both kids up from their naps. They were in seperate rooms, as napping together is currently an unsuccessful endeavor, and M woke first-I went to her (she's still in her crib, much to her dismay-when we've let her try sleeping in G's bed, we eventually hear her knocking on the door as their knob is too high for her to reach), got her up, and laid down in G's bed with her to see if I could lull her back to sleep. No luck. Every time the thunder would rumble, she'd curl in to me, quivering-I assured her all was fine and all that, but she often chooses no to believe me. She finally asked what the noise was, and I told her it was thunder up in the clouds. "Oh, it's funder?" "Yes, thunder." "Oh, it's jus funder. It's funder." G joined us a few minutes later, and was reassured, "Buh-buh, that's funder. It's only funder. It's ok, it's funder."
I couldn't get them to relax, and as it was daylight it wouldn't be any fun sitting in a window to watch (as we normally would), so to try and get them to relax about the whole thing we geared up Seattle style (no umbrellas) and headed out into some of the heaviest rain I've ever seen. Our street (on a hill) was nearlya rushing river, much to the kids' delight as they ran up and down it, racing leaf boats to the bottom.
It was during this hour of soaking-wet craziness that I was forced to come to grips with my illness. What drivers and passers-by must have thought, seeing me and my kids in the pouring rain--this is what I imagine them saying to themselves, "That horrible woman, making her children get soaking wet just so she can edge her lawn." I couldn't help it. I was outside, the edger was just leaning there, we always have so much yardwork to do, I just couldn't help it. Plus the ground is really soft when it's wet. I may need to enter some sort of program. At least they weren't worried about the "funder" anymore.
I couldn't get them to relax, and as it was daylight it wouldn't be any fun sitting in a window to watch (as we normally would), so to try and get them to relax about the whole thing we geared up Seattle style (no umbrellas) and headed out into some of the heaviest rain I've ever seen. Our street (on a hill) was nearlya rushing river, much to the kids' delight as they ran up and down it, racing leaf boats to the bottom.
It was during this hour of soaking-wet craziness that I was forced to come to grips with my illness. What drivers and passers-by must have thought, seeing me and my kids in the pouring rain--this is what I imagine them saying to themselves, "That horrible woman, making her children get soaking wet just so she can edge her lawn." I couldn't help it. I was outside, the edger was just leaning there, we always have so much yardwork to do, I just couldn't help it. Plus the ground is really soft when it's wet. I may need to enter some sort of program. At least they weren't worried about the "funder" anymore.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Garrett's Photography.
We got a new camera several months ago, and Garrett asked if he could have our old one. Figuring I could just dump the digital images when he was done, I let him have a go. Here are a few of the 50+ shots he took (I omitted ones we could have titled "wall" and "leg of chair"). I had no idea when he gave me back the camera what I would find.
Make-up in Mirror
Down the Whirley-Tube
Self Portrait
Cake In Dome
Experimental Picture-posting
Stone party! (Dubbed "stones" by my niece when she was 2, not called such because my scones are rock hard, as has been suggested in the past.) Stone-baking is a long-standing tradition for my niece and I, on this occasion joined and assisted by the peanut gallery. You would not believe the amount of deliberation that went into the choosing of each child's add-in--William really thought that, at some point, someone would tell him he really couldn't put chocolate chips in his. 
Oh-ho the Wells Fargo Wagon is a-Comin' down the street...the kids and Troy got to ride the stagecoach in the Mercer Island Summer Celebration parade-I can't tell you how bummed I was that I had a client meeting and had to take off right after snapping these shots. Troy was uber-thrilled to ride "up top." And I'm not joking. You should have seen him vault himself up there.
Oh-ho the Wells Fargo Wagon is a-Comin' down the street...the kids and Troy got to ride the stagecoach in the Mercer Island Summer Celebration parade-I can't tell you how bummed I was that I had a client meeting and had to take off right after snapping these shots. Troy was uber-thrilled to ride "up top." And I'm not joking. You should have seen him vault himself up there.
Friday, August 22, 2008
House Work in High Heels
Sounds like a country song, doesn't it? The other day I took the kids to Value Village to pick out some dress-up things for them. Morgan of course went immediately for the shoes, and we picked out two pairs of heeled slides, and actually, they're pretty cute. They also happen to be my size (honestly, that was a coincidence). Morgan LOVES them. Loves them so much she wants to wear them always. The GREAT thing is, there are two pairs, so she doesn't have to wear them alone! She will come charging towards me, arms full of shoes, and announce "Mommy, put on your pretty shoes! Dere's a mon-ter (monster) coming!" She has not explained how the pretty shoes assist in the fending off of a monster-maybe it will only eat you if you are un-fashionable.
So yesterday, as I hurried around doing chores before I had to leave for a client meeting, I was compelled to do my house work wearing two inch heels. Meaning if I took them off she would yell at me, and then follow me around trying to slip them on my feet every time I took a step. When I asked her if I could take them off yet, she would reply with a resounding, "Not YET!" Oh well. Now I can empathize with June Cleaver.
I finally came up with a compromise. I could take them off for awhile if Garrett would agree to wear them. Not surprisingly, he was thrilled at the idea.
So yesterday, as I hurried around doing chores before I had to leave for a client meeting, I was compelled to do my house work wearing two inch heels. Meaning if I took them off she would yell at me, and then follow me around trying to slip them on my feet every time I took a step. When I asked her if I could take them off yet, she would reply with a resounding, "Not YET!" Oh well. Now I can empathize with June Cleaver.
I finally came up with a compromise. I could take them off for awhile if Garrett would agree to wear them. Not surprisingly, he was thrilled at the idea.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Troy's input and Morgan's idea
Troy really felt I should put this particular interaction betwixt Morgan and I here:
(Scene: in that bathroom, Morgan has announced she needs to go potty but is refusing to do it herself as is the norm)
M: Can't get my seat! (her padded potty seat insert, goes on the regular toilet)
S: Yes you can, it's right there.
M: No, I can't get it!
S: Honey, just reach down and get it.
M: No I can't! Daddy say me no!
Troy has no recollection of ever telling her she couldn't get her seat herself, and really appreciates it when the kids blame him for not doing things I tell them to do. Early in the morning, she had announced (after donning a coat and shoes over her pajamas):
"Come on guys! Follow me! I got an idea!" Keep in mind she's two and a half and often sounds as though she's speaking with food in her mouth-this however, came out loud and clear. What else was I to do? I followed her. She led me to the hall closet, which she opened and announced she needed her hat. I presented her with her pink floppy hat, which she insisted wasn't hers (she wears it all the time) and continued to search for a more suitable selection. Unfortunately this disrtacted her from her original quest and I was never to find out what her "idea" was.
She has also appointed herself the household personal trainer-we recently aquired a Wii Fit, and have been using it almost nightly (for those not in the "know" it's a video-game based work-out system, you stand on a small board that measures your stance and balance for a variety of games that work on balance and posture, strength training, aerobics, and yoga). Her favorit game is the ski jump, wherein you must bend your knees while leaning forward togain speed, and then straigten your legs at just the right time to make your character jump, then hold your balance steady to make the jump good. She has succesfully managed to do this one out of about 15 tries-usually she just refuses to stand up. So now when we're playing, regardless of the game, she will come running, position herself next to you, and announce, "Ok, BEN(D) YOUR KNEES! Ben(d) you knees, mommy! Like dis! (demonstrating perfect position, which she doesn't assume when she's actually playing)." I can't tell you how helpful and motivating this is when I am, say, trying to stand perfectly still in a one-legged yoga stance. Especially when she will then come behind me and push me knees forward, once again asserting the importance of "ben your knees!"
Physical fitness is very important to her.
(Scene: in that bathroom, Morgan has announced she needs to go potty but is refusing to do it herself as is the norm)
M: Can't get my seat! (her padded potty seat insert, goes on the regular toilet)
S: Yes you can, it's right there.
M: No, I can't get it!
S: Honey, just reach down and get it.
M: No I can't! Daddy say me no!
Troy has no recollection of ever telling her she couldn't get her seat herself, and really appreciates it when the kids blame him for not doing things I tell them to do. Early in the morning, she had announced (after donning a coat and shoes over her pajamas):
"Come on guys! Follow me! I got an idea!" Keep in mind she's two and a half and often sounds as though she's speaking with food in her mouth-this however, came out loud and clear. What else was I to do? I followed her. She led me to the hall closet, which she opened and announced she needed her hat. I presented her with her pink floppy hat, which she insisted wasn't hers (she wears it all the time) and continued to search for a more suitable selection. Unfortunately this disrtacted her from her original quest and I was never to find out what her "idea" was.
She has also appointed herself the household personal trainer-we recently aquired a Wii Fit, and have been using it almost nightly (for those not in the "know" it's a video-game based work-out system, you stand on a small board that measures your stance and balance for a variety of games that work on balance and posture, strength training, aerobics, and yoga). Her favorit game is the ski jump, wherein you must bend your knees while leaning forward togain speed, and then straigten your legs at just the right time to make your character jump, then hold your balance steady to make the jump good. She has succesfully managed to do this one out of about 15 tries-usually she just refuses to stand up. So now when we're playing, regardless of the game, she will come running, position herself next to you, and announce, "Ok, BEN(D) YOUR KNEES! Ben(d) you knees, mommy! Like dis! (demonstrating perfect position, which she doesn't assume when she's actually playing)." I can't tell you how helpful and motivating this is when I am, say, trying to stand perfectly still in a one-legged yoga stance. Especially when she will then come behind me and push me knees forward, once again asserting the importance of "ben your knees!"
Physical fitness is very important to her.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Comments Enabled
Sorry to those who have attempted to comment (I know, my writing is so thought-provoking it inspires endless expounding and pontification, so the inability to log it here must have been unbearably frustrating), I changed the settings and you now have my permission to do so. Happy Monday!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Thunder and Lightening and Kittens, Oh My
So we have a new kitten. She's ridiculously adorable and fantastically rambunctious, as kittens tend to be, and not at all inclined to "respect her elders," i.e Dervish and Nox. They are coping. Troy has named her. After observing her unique hunting style (wherein she crouches in shadows, often on a lower stair than her intended prey's ankles, waiting in silence--devoid of the traditional kitten-y butt-wiggling and over-zealous pouncing--until just the right moment, when she strikes like lightening at the lower limbs of innocent passers-by, then immediately races away to lurk once more in her shroud of darkness like a Ninja), he was most adamant that she must be called "Assassin." I argued she was far to cute to carry such a name. Perhaps we could call her Lucy. He was steadfast. We call her Sassy.
The dark hours of night are of course a playground for those of her ilk, and last night was no exception. The difference came from it being was so hot and so humid in our house that in order to sleep even remotely comfortably, we were forced to leave all the doors (not exterior, of course) and windows open so that our legion of fans could keep the air circulating. Oh, was this a thrill to Sassy. Shortly after 2 AM, I awoke to Morgan's firm little voice ordering, "No! No No NO!" What did I find upon inspection? A frisky kitten, in her crib, had nibbled her toes (in a cute way, of course) until she woke up, then proceeded to try and play with her. Why she would pick Morgan I don't know, as Morgan tortures her-carrying her by her neck, pulling her tail to keep her from running away, typical cat vs 2 yr old interaction. But there she was, waking her up and begging for more. Perhaps she thought this was her golden opportunity to reap revenge. I ousted her from the room and closed the door. Shortly after 3 AM Sassy felt lonely, and decided to join us in our bed. She lay there quietly, but I could feel her tail twitching and knew it was coming. Sure enough, after about ten minutes she could no longer contain herself and was eventually ousted from our room as well.
At 4 AM a tremendous thunder storm rolled in. While I was upset to be woken yet again, I can't resist a good storm and proceeded into the living room to curl up in a chair near the windows to watch. After a few rounds of strike and rumble I went to check the children, as Garrett has a love-hate relationship with thunder storms. Both soundly asleep. I headed back to bed. Not long after, I realized that the chattering on the outskirts of my dream was really happening and woke yet again, this time with Garrett standing by our bed desperately trying to tell Troy, at high speed, exactly what was happening (from a meteorological standpoint). I asked if he was scared and he replied, eyes wide as saucers, "Oh no!" and launched into the same high-pitched rapid fire explanation he'd been giving Troy. After telling him to can it (in the politest 4:30 AM way possible), I pulled him into bed between us where he proceeded to wriggle, poke, prod, lean, and push until I escorted him back to bed a short while later. There I found, AGAIN, a wide-awake Morgan-apparently Garrett had neglected to shut the door behind him and she was being visited by our fury assassin once more. Which was nice, because otherwise she'd have missed out on the storm, and who wouldn't want their entire household awake and animatedly talking about lightening at 4:30 in the morning?!?! All except my husband, of course. He has no recollection of any of this.
Back to bed for all, doors shut, kittens ousted, nearly back to sleep, when we are visited by another of our household-Dervish (our oldest and largest) thumped herself down between us (causing us both to bounce lightly) and proceeded to be just as restful as Garrett. Apparently she'd been snug beneath our bed, and I had unwittingly locked her in the room with us.
Maybe not one of my more restful nights.
The dark hours of night are of course a playground for those of her ilk, and last night was no exception. The difference came from it being was so hot and so humid in our house that in order to sleep even remotely comfortably, we were forced to leave all the doors (not exterior, of course) and windows open so that our legion of fans could keep the air circulating. Oh, was this a thrill to Sassy. Shortly after 2 AM, I awoke to Morgan's firm little voice ordering, "No! No No NO!" What did I find upon inspection? A frisky kitten, in her crib, had nibbled her toes (in a cute way, of course) until she woke up, then proceeded to try and play with her. Why she would pick Morgan I don't know, as Morgan tortures her-carrying her by her neck, pulling her tail to keep her from running away, typical cat vs 2 yr old interaction. But there she was, waking her up and begging for more. Perhaps she thought this was her golden opportunity to reap revenge. I ousted her from the room and closed the door. Shortly after 3 AM Sassy felt lonely, and decided to join us in our bed. She lay there quietly, but I could feel her tail twitching and knew it was coming. Sure enough, after about ten minutes she could no longer contain herself and was eventually ousted from our room as well.
At 4 AM a tremendous thunder storm rolled in. While I was upset to be woken yet again, I can't resist a good storm and proceeded into the living room to curl up in a chair near the windows to watch. After a few rounds of strike and rumble I went to check the children, as Garrett has a love-hate relationship with thunder storms. Both soundly asleep. I headed back to bed. Not long after, I realized that the chattering on the outskirts of my dream was really happening and woke yet again, this time with Garrett standing by our bed desperately trying to tell Troy, at high speed, exactly what was happening (from a meteorological standpoint). I asked if he was scared and he replied, eyes wide as saucers, "Oh no!" and launched into the same high-pitched rapid fire explanation he'd been giving Troy. After telling him to can it (in the politest 4:30 AM way possible), I pulled him into bed between us where he proceeded to wriggle, poke, prod, lean, and push until I escorted him back to bed a short while later. There I found, AGAIN, a wide-awake Morgan-apparently Garrett had neglected to shut the door behind him and she was being visited by our fury assassin once more. Which was nice, because otherwise she'd have missed out on the storm, and who wouldn't want their entire household awake and animatedly talking about lightening at 4:30 in the morning?!?! All except my husband, of course. He has no recollection of any of this.
Back to bed for all, doors shut, kittens ousted, nearly back to sleep, when we are visited by another of our household-Dervish (our oldest and largest) thumped herself down between us (causing us both to bounce lightly) and proceeded to be just as restful as Garrett. Apparently she'd been snug beneath our bed, and I had unwittingly locked her in the room with us.
Maybe not one of my more restful nights.
Friday, August 15, 2008
And by the way, Welcome
So I've been meaning to do this forever, and well I'm just a busy important person with many influential and meaningful things demanding my time. That and it's summer and I'd much rather play outside, thank you.
My hope is to post here frequently, my reality is I'll do it when I think of it. So if you can remember to pop in once or twice a month, you should be good.
Currently we are taking a break from our usual load of projects, and trying to enjoy the last few weeks of summer. We may even dust of the bicycles this weekend if we're feeling extra-wacky. We made good progress on our back-yard modifications (for those who don' t know, when we bought our house our backyard was naught but a very old deck, a fantastically diverse assortment of weeds and grasses, and a hill covered in blackberry and ivy. As we began to cut things back, we discovered a few things-one, that our yard was bigger than we'd thought, two-that blackberries REALLY hurt, and three, that at some point in our home's 90 yr history, someone lovingly and laboriously created a beautiful terraced landscape, complete with many lovely flowering bushes and trees, a Japanese maple, holly, magnolia, and hawthorn trees, all connected by wandering stone borders and two sets of stone steps leading to the top of our little hillside. The past three summers has been like unwrapping a Christmas gift, our very own Secret Garden), extending the stone border to wrap around the integrated sandbox under the magnolia tree, rebuilding the deck (thanks again, Kevin, our framing guru!), digging out and leveling for the small stone patio between the deck and sandbox (yet to be laid), and planting a garden actually in the ground (we'll get around to building the raised beds eventually). Wow, when I write it all out it sounds rather amazing-to us it still looks awfully messy. Keep in mind that all of this is contained in a relatively small yard with not much room to work-it's been an adventure!
And as today is predicted to break records in the temperature category, my computer is upstairs in the hottest part of the house, and the kiddies are chomping at the bit to get into the pool (we finally set it up yesterday), I leave you with this charming dialogue (as we're walking to get dinner last night, along a busy street):
G: Mommy, why are there so many cars?
M: Because there are so many people.
G: No, why are there so many cars?
M: Because it's rush hour and all the people are going home at the same time.
G: NO! WHY are there so MANY CARS??
M: Honey, I'm not sure what you're asking me-there are a lot of cars for people to buy, and lots of people buy them and drive them.
G: NO! You're supposed to say "because they make a lot of cars!"
Well, then, why did you ask??
My hope is to post here frequently, my reality is I'll do it when I think of it. So if you can remember to pop in once or twice a month, you should be good.
Currently we are taking a break from our usual load of projects, and trying to enjoy the last few weeks of summer. We may even dust of the bicycles this weekend if we're feeling extra-wacky. We made good progress on our back-yard modifications (for those who don' t know, when we bought our house our backyard was naught but a very old deck, a fantastically diverse assortment of weeds and grasses, and a hill covered in blackberry and ivy. As we began to cut things back, we discovered a few things-one, that our yard was bigger than we'd thought, two-that blackberries REALLY hurt, and three, that at some point in our home's 90 yr history, someone lovingly and laboriously created a beautiful terraced landscape, complete with many lovely flowering bushes and trees, a Japanese maple, holly, magnolia, and hawthorn trees, all connected by wandering stone borders and two sets of stone steps leading to the top of our little hillside. The past three summers has been like unwrapping a Christmas gift, our very own Secret Garden), extending the stone border to wrap around the integrated sandbox under the magnolia tree, rebuilding the deck (thanks again, Kevin, our framing guru!), digging out and leveling for the small stone patio between the deck and sandbox (yet to be laid), and planting a garden actually in the ground (we'll get around to building the raised beds eventually). Wow, when I write it all out it sounds rather amazing-to us it still looks awfully messy. Keep in mind that all of this is contained in a relatively small yard with not much room to work-it's been an adventure!
And as today is predicted to break records in the temperature category, my computer is upstairs in the hottest part of the house, and the kiddies are chomping at the bit to get into the pool (we finally set it up yesterday), I leave you with this charming dialogue (as we're walking to get dinner last night, along a busy street):
G: Mommy, why are there so many cars?
M: Because there are so many people.
G: No, why are there so many cars?
M: Because it's rush hour and all the people are going home at the same time.
G: NO! WHY are there so MANY CARS??
M: Honey, I'm not sure what you're asking me-there are a lot of cars for people to buy, and lots of people buy them and drive them.
G: NO! You're supposed to say "because they make a lot of cars!"
Well, then, why did you ask??
Ugg Icky Hot
Ugg Icky Heat
My face was stuck to my pillow this morning. Well, maybe not REALLY stuck, but it had that tacky feeling of having perspired against it, then having said moisture cool. Gross. Needless to say, I'll be changing the sheets today. Which seems pointless as it'll be even hotter tonight and tomorrow.And THAT's why Garrett and I will be camping "a little bit" (meaning in the back yard). We had promised him after our "real" camping trip that we could pitch a tent in the yard and sleep in it after the deck was finished. This prompted him, over the course of the last few weeks, to mutter things like, "Is the deck EVER going to be done so we can go camping?" and "Aren't you done with that deck yet?" and the heart-wrenching run-straight-outside-after-nap-throw-open-the-back-and-sigh-dejectedly routine he adopted when I told him he had to sleep so I could work on it. He didn't even believe us when we told him it was ready. He had to go out and look, then walk around on it inspecting its construction before he announced that yes, it was ready. Then I told him we could camp the next night, Monday, or Tuesday if Monday's weather wasn't good. He cocked his head in thought and replied, "Let's do Tuesday. That will be a good day." So glad I fit in his schedule.Ironically, Tuesday was NOT a good day and we wound up setting up camp Wednesday, with much fan-fair and excitement. And much running round and round inside the tent. I believe they were trying to simulate the effects of an earthquake on camping equipment. Then they entombed themselves in their sleeping bags and wouldn't come out until Garrett realized he didn't have a flashlight-we all know how important a flashlight is when you are in your sleeping bag at 1 in the afternoon in August. They were soaked in sweat and wouldn't come out. But they had a flashlight! We got the new patio furniture all set up on the deck, and proceeded to make preparations to BBQ. The kids played in the sandbox and helped water my garden and plants-side note: My squash and pumpkin plants are HUGE, I mean bizarrely huge, leafs the size of my torso, but none of them are flowering. Odd. Anyway, Garrett even put on his "workin' man gloves" and helped me tackle some overgrown blackberry bushes so we could reach the delectable sweetness that is finally ripe (every year Troy swears he's ripping them all out, and he has yet to manage it before August, which is fine with me as it keeps them from overtaking the yard again but we still get to enjoy the world's most delicious blackberries, organic and free!). He even managed using pruners with his gloves on-isn't he accomplished. So anyway, fast-forward to Wed night-we had a lovely dinner, roasted marshmallows for s'mores, and read many books in the tent by flashlight before Daddy said goodnight and headed in (wuss). Morgan lasted about 15 min-she just wouldn't stay in one place. Once she was headed in with Daddy, I took the cover off the tent so we could watch for shooting stars. Stars? What stars? Between the car lot flood lights (who's shopping for Toyotas at 10 PM?) two miles away and the newly risen full moon, we could see everything BUT stars. That combined with our neighbors watching an epic adventure movie at top volume, apparently outside of their house, and Garrett's complete inability to settle down (even after I made him a bed out of chair cushions as it "did not feel well inside this tent, the ground is very hard and sharp and it hurts me"), he and I were headed back in by 11. Oh well. It's no Orcas Island (sigh). We'll try again tonight. At least we got to eat S'mores!A final sidenote-I feel like freakin' She-Ra after doing the deck-sure, Troy worked on it, too, but he always had someone else with him--I did a lot of it ALL BY MYSELF! I love that I am competent with power tools. And I love the look on my mother-in-law's face when I talk about things like chop saws and nail guns. In the words of Mastercard, Priceless.
My face was stuck to my pillow this morning. Well, maybe not REALLY stuck, but it had that tacky feeling of having perspired against it, then having said moisture cool. Gross. Needless to say, I'll be changing the sheets today. Which seems pointless as it'll be even hotter tonight and tomorrow.And THAT's why Garrett and I will be camping "a little bit" (meaning in the back yard). We had promised him after our "real" camping trip that we could pitch a tent in the yard and sleep in it after the deck was finished. This prompted him, over the course of the last few weeks, to mutter things like, "Is the deck EVER going to be done so we can go camping?" and "Aren't you done with that deck yet?" and the heart-wrenching run-straight-outside-after-nap-throw-open-the-back-and-sigh-dejectedly routine he adopted when I told him he had to sleep so I could work on it. He didn't even believe us when we told him it was ready. He had to go out and look, then walk around on it inspecting its construction before he announced that yes, it was ready. Then I told him we could camp the next night, Monday, or Tuesday if Monday's weather wasn't good. He cocked his head in thought and replied, "Let's do Tuesday. That will be a good day." So glad I fit in his schedule.Ironically, Tuesday was NOT a good day and we wound up setting up camp Wednesday, with much fan-fair and excitement. And much running round and round inside the tent. I believe they were trying to simulate the effects of an earthquake on camping equipment. Then they entombed themselves in their sleeping bags and wouldn't come out until Garrett realized he didn't have a flashlight-we all know how important a flashlight is when you are in your sleeping bag at 1 in the afternoon in August. They were soaked in sweat and wouldn't come out. But they had a flashlight! We got the new patio furniture all set up on the deck, and proceeded to make preparations to BBQ. The kids played in the sandbox and helped water my garden and plants-side note: My squash and pumpkin plants are HUGE, I mean bizarrely huge, leafs the size of my torso, but none of them are flowering. Odd. Anyway, Garrett even put on his "workin' man gloves" and helped me tackle some overgrown blackberry bushes so we could reach the delectable sweetness that is finally ripe (every year Troy swears he's ripping them all out, and he has yet to manage it before August, which is fine with me as it keeps them from overtaking the yard again but we still get to enjoy the world's most delicious blackberries, organic and free!). He even managed using pruners with his gloves on-isn't he accomplished. So anyway, fast-forward to Wed night-we had a lovely dinner, roasted marshmallows for s'mores, and read many books in the tent by flashlight before Daddy said goodnight and headed in (wuss). Morgan lasted about 15 min-she just wouldn't stay in one place. Once she was headed in with Daddy, I took the cover off the tent so we could watch for shooting stars. Stars? What stars? Between the car lot flood lights (who's shopping for Toyotas at 10 PM?) two miles away and the newly risen full moon, we could see everything BUT stars. That combined with our neighbors watching an epic adventure movie at top volume, apparently outside of their house, and Garrett's complete inability to settle down (even after I made him a bed out of chair cushions as it "did not feel well inside this tent, the ground is very hard and sharp and it hurts me"), he and I were headed back in by 11. Oh well. It's no Orcas Island (sigh). We'll try again tonight. At least we got to eat S'mores!A final sidenote-I feel like freakin' She-Ra after doing the deck-sure, Troy worked on it, too, but he always had someone else with him--I did a lot of it ALL BY MYSELF! I love that I am competent with power tools. And I love the look on my mother-in-law's face when I talk about things like chop saws and nail guns. In the words of Mastercard, Priceless.
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