Morgan has a play kitchen in the back of our real kitchen. Normally she prepares plates of fake food for us (she's quite the nutritionist--when I was so sick in early pregnancy, she brought me an orange, a fried egg, and a donut with the instructions "I brought you this food so that you can eat it and feel better and be happy"), lets us "munch" on them for a moment, and then snatches them back to the kitchen for a wash, rinse, and repeat. A couple weeks ago she started making cookies (while her cousins were here giving her new ideas). The last few days she's put a spin into her cookie making--she sticks the baking sheet into the oven (we don't have fake cookies, so this is purely pretend--so refreshing to me as Garrett has always been resistant to pretending), stairs at it through the door for about ten seconds, then throws open the oven door exclaiming, "OH NO! MY COOOOKIES!"
Apparently she can't stop burning them. Her imaginary cookies. My daughter is a lousy fake chef. She'll bring us the tray, but if we reach for one she says, "NO! You can't eat dem! They all burned up with fire!" Last night she pulled out a "good" batch just as I walked through the back door--Troy said, "Oh, you're just in time. She's burned the last three batches." I almost wet myself. But not before enjoying a delicious cookie, fresh from the oven.
Garrett is Batman. He received extraordinary things for Christmas-a "power gauntlet" that meekly shoots "batarangs" about three feet, a mask, and THE WINGS. THE WINGS are worn like a backpack, and are black fabric on a black plastic frame. When the wearer pulls the GOLD ring, THE WINGS pop up. The wearer may then strut about the room, looking very cool and heroic (after all, G "only likes cool things"), before pulling the black rings which cause THE WINGS to retract. The buyers of THE WINGS did not realize until after their purchase that the span of said WINGS is just over five feet. FIVE feet. In other words, wider than he is tall. Ornaments were knocked from the tree, cups from the table, kitties launched themselves from their perches in terror--but he learned pretty quickly to retract them before walking through a doorway.
The most fascinating thing about THE WINGS is the reactions received from adult observers. Specifically male adults. I let him wear his getup to Troy's branch's holiday party last weekend. Eyes misted over. Mouths went slack. Eyebrows made that point above the nose. Amidst a grown-up party complete with junk food, alcohol, a pool table and Guitar Hero, the COOLEST THING EVER was my five year old. I had to threaten them that if one more man said, "Oh man, if I'D had those I'd have SO been up on the roof..."within G's earshot, I would maim him (including my husband). But it was so sweet watching G strut around the party, demonstrating his gadgets and glowing under the admiration of so many grown-ups (he had been a little nervous about the whole thing). And Batman saved us a trip to the ER. G was sitting on a swiveling bar stool next to me, swinging his legs and rocking side to side, and (through no fault of his own) suddenly flew out of the seat to land, sprawled face-down, at my feet. His face hit the sharp-edged foot rest of my seat, the whole ordeal absolutely terrifying him (as he would later tell me, "I cried do hard I couldn't breathe. That really scared me.") and the room full of adults witness to it. I scooped him up and ran for the bathroom, sure he'd be gushing blood, to find a mild welt over one eye--and a dent in the (thankfully) thick, squishy mask he was wearing where he'd made contact.
Thank you, Batman. Thank you.
And finally, the third child of cuteness, the baby--whom Troy felt kick for the first time Saturday night. Three lusty jabs in a row, nice payout for the many nights prior he'd spent, hand to my belly, waiting patiently through many a "Did you feel that?" "No." "How 'bout that?" "No." "That one?" "No" "Oh wait, was that it?" "No hon, sorry, just a gas bubble." And he was so happy. So I guess he's pretty cute, too.
Monday, January 12, 2009
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 ;).
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