PDX Mama

For Colleen

2008-10-10T13:52:00.000-07:00

I met Colleen when my now 5-year old son was a baby. We met on a web forum for those trying to get pregnant. There were quite a few of us on that forum who often found ourselves posting in the same threads, with similar ideas on politics, mothering, life. As we disovered our kinship and became friends, we chose to form our own little forum where we could connect on a day-to-day basis with each other separate from the rest of the pregnancy forum.

In this group, we have shared much. Pregnancies, births, losses, deaths of loved ones, day-to-day vents, promotions, birthdays, anniversaries, the full gamut of what you share with friends. A great many of have met in person. We have such ready contact with each other that I “talk” with them more frequently than I talk with most family members or friends. I consider each one of these women dear friends. Although I never met Colleen in person, I always had a good idea of what she must be ike in person. Her wit and spunky personality always shown through. As did her love for her husband and children and wanting to ensure they would always be taken care of.

And now, I am facing the prospect of losing Colleen. In August she was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma, a rare form of liver cancer. She had surgery, but it was found in her lymph nodes. Just last week, she learned the cancer had spread into her abdomen and beyond. The cancer is very aggressive and it pains me, more than I can bear to think about, that Colleen may not have much longer. She has a 5 year old daughter and 2 year old son.

A fundraiser is being held for her and her family on October 28th-November 4th at Tiny Lady Cooperative. There will be a wide variety of knitted goods, yarns, fibers, and other items. Your support would be very appreciated.

Please feel free to "steal" the button for your own blog.

Here is a little more description of what is prompting this event, from the Facebook group "Tiny Lady Cooperative Fundraiser":

As many of you know, our friend Colleen was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma, a rare form of liver cancer, back in August.

You can read more about Colleen's story on her blog at www.spiffyknits.blogspot.com.

Colleen underwent surgery to remove 60% of her liver. At the same time, they removed some of Colleen's lymph nodes. Then, Colleen went on to begin regrowing her liver with optimism and grace. Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago, bad news. On a follow up visit, it was found that there were cancer cells in her lymph nodes. They planned to begin chemotherapy October 3rd. Before chemotherapy could begin, Colleen had a couple more visits to the hospital because of various complications. Last week, the news was more grim. A CT scan indicated that the cancer has spread throughout her body. Chemo is no longer an option she is willing to consider. Mainly because it would take away from her family too much of the time she has left. Plus, the doctors have said that there is a strong possibility that it could even accelerate her deterioration. She wants to approach the time she has left with the strength, grace and dignity that defines her personality.

It has broken all of our hearts to realize that Colleen is most likely not going to be with us much longer. She has taken a "don't ask, don't tell" approach to how long she has, so that she can enjoy everyday to it's fullest. Plus, honestly, the doctors wouldn't be able to give a good estimate for how long she has. Either way, it is not long -- it is just too aggressive of a cancer.

Colleen has touched many of our lives with her intelligence, wit, humor, generosity, talent, and amazing outlook on life. The ladies here at Tiny Lady Cooperative have had the fortune of being business partners with her, and many others have enjoyed her fibers and yarns. Friends from real life, as well as online, have rallied together to show Colleen how much we love, support and admire her.

Please join us October 28th-November 4th as we host an event to raise funds for Colleen and her family. All funds raised will be placed into a college fund for her children.

Thank you in advance for your generosity in supporting this event.

Life is Unfair

2008-04-07T17:02:00.000-07:00

Blogging block?

It's been a little while since I've posted anything. I can't really explain why. Busy? Sure. Lack of inspiration? Sure. Some tough personal stuff? Sure.

Over the course of a month, I dealt with the death of three people I know. I wasn't incredily close to the people who died, but I was close to those most affected by their deaths. My best friend losing her father just a couple months before she was to have her first child. My secretary losing her husband (who was also a coworker of mine) after major surgery to remove a lung ravaged by cancer. All the teachers at the kids' daycare, who lost their daycare center director (who was also the partner of one of the teachers) in a mysterious drowning in a neighborhood pond.

I haven't experienced a lot of death in my life, certainly not that much death in such a short amount of time. The death of my secretary's husband hit me really hard as I had seen him a very short time before the surgery at work and he looked fine. He was a very high level manager and had recently come to talk to a bunch of us about this terrible new performance system we recently came under. He seemed fine. He seemed strong. But he was dealing with a very rare form of aggressive cancer. There was great hope that the surgery to remove his lung would let him lead a normal life. I knew the surgery was very serious, but the news of his death still hit me like a ton of bricks. At work, I broke down several times. Unfortunately, it was usually in the presence of male colleagues, most of whom were in superior positions. It wasn't all my fault. One of them had the nerve to take me aside and ask very sincerely and kindly "how are you doing?" (that's tongue in cheek, I actually hold him in higher esteem now for doing that).

I lose it very easily (I blame you, Mother!). Not a good quality when you're trying to be supportive and strong for those that are mourning the loss of their loved ones.

To sum it up...death sucks. It's unfair (please, don't bother telling me life isn't fair, I actually had someone tell me that when we were grieving for the husband of my secretary, for some crazy reason, those words of wisdom don't help). It makes me think about mortality. It reminds me that there is no guarantee that the people I love most will be around me forever. I don't like thinking about that stuff.

Additionally, at some point, on some blog, I stumbled upon the news of a beautiful little four year old boy who lost his life to brain cancer. 4 years old. My son is 4 years old. I've been drawn to the mom's writings since their son's passing. I don't know why I keep going back to see how she's doing because I lose it almost every single time. I guess in some ways I feel selfish if I don't visit, if I don't share in the remembering of his life, in the mourning of his death. And really, the heartache I feel for that family pales in comparison to what they experienced. Who am I to complain about how it brings me down when I can go home and hug my children? My mind cannot even comprehend what I would do in that mom's shoes. I cannot imagine a pain worse. I have a lump in my throat just thinking about it. It reminds me of how I reacted after 9/11, I couldn't peel my eyes off the television. I felt the duty to mourn, to "never forget."

But I don't think it's good for me to visit that site. I should turn my sympathy (or compulsion or whatever it is) into something productive. Whether it's volunteering time to do something to help little children going through something similar or spending extra minutes with my own children, I need to remove myself from things that make me think about death and concentrate on the good that is living.

The Half Report

2007-12-31T11:30:00.000-08:00

For those concerned about the long absence since my last post before the half-marathon, I am not dead. Although, I was a little concerned that I wouldn't survive the turbulent plane ride home.

I ran the entire 13.1 miles.

We arrived in Vegas on Saturday, the day before the race. It’s strange to be in Vegas and have to use something called self discipline. We ate at a fabulous little restaurant in the Mandalay Bay, called the “Burger Bar.” A mighty fine $20+ melt-in-your-mouth gourmet kobe beef burger was had. Best burger I’ve ever had. If you haven’t had a kobe beef burger, I encourage you to try one. Heavenly. A bit of beer was had as well (I only have so much self discipline).

We turned in early, but a restless night was ahead for both of us. I didn’t really think I would be “one of those” who gets nervous before a race and can’t sleep the night before. But it hit me a bit and definitely hit my husband.

We got up at 4 am on Sunday morning. A mad dash was made for coffee at the 24 hour Starbucks downstairs (no in-room coffee maker!). It was interesting to see the contrast of those up at that hour in Vegas. Most were going to be running in the race. But others were still “out”. Some were still intoxicated. One poor girl was passed out in a wheelchair and being wheeled somewhere by a security guard.

I stepped outside to see how cold it was. Definitely cold (news report said it was 38 degrees).

We drank our coffee and ate our breakfast. After we figured out what we were going to wear and how to put our bibs and timing chip on, we went downstairs to meet a coworker of mine who would also be running. We waited for some time and she never showed, so we left to try to find a spot at the starting line. Sadly, I knew I’d probably not spot her in the crowd of 12,000 or so racing.

It’s hard to describe the energy of the crowd before we started. I think that may be one of the addictive qualities of races – the positive energy. Everyone there has a similar goal – the accomplishment of something you’ve trained hard for.

The race started at 6:07 am at the Mandalay Bay. Fireworks and Elvis Presley music carried us through our muddle to the starting line (with a crowd like that, it took a good 8 or 9 minutes to cross the starting line) and down the strip. I got a tiny bit teary from the rush of it all. Crowds cheered us on. Tribute bands played here and there. The Blue Man Group performed. Numerous runners were dressed as Elvis. Some runners adorned in veils or other wedding gear, even partook in the run through wedding ceremony.

We ran long past the strip and at some point turned around and headed back to the finish line. I felt really good for the first 8-9 miles. I mean, really good. It was sometime after the 9 mile mark that the run began to require a little more effort. It never got to the point of being uncomfortable, but at some point I did feel like the end would be a nice and really welcome thing.

My husband ran along with me the entire time. He’s a much faster runner than me, so I’m sure I slowed him down tremendously. But he tells me that he’s glad he went slower, that it did get tougher for him as well and running slow probably helped.

We finished in 2:24 (my husband would scold me if I didn’t caveat that with the fact that that includes the potty break I had to take). We shuffled through the very crowded exit area and received our medals.

My macho husband didn’t grasp the importance or necessity of the silver “blanket” they handed every finisher. While I enjoyed the benefits of something between my sweaty clothes and the cool temperatures (that was actually quite a surprise to me how beneficial those space age looking blankets are), my husband soon realized a blanket was necessary if he was going to stay outside any longer.

Coincidentally, we located my friend as she was exiting a port-a-potty! She had also finished the whole race.

We all wobbled away together, naps were had, as was a real night on the town.

It was fun. And I hope you don't mind me tooting my own horn, but I blew the lid off my New Year's resolutions last year.

Now my husband wants to do a marathon. And he doesn't want to wait until October for the Portland one. He wants to do the Eugene marathon in May. And then the Portland one in October. Oh boy. What have I created?

The Half is Near

2007-11-25T14:14:00.000-08:00

It's coming. The race. 13.1 miles. In Vegas. 7 days from now.

My husband and a co-worker/friend will be doing it with me. We've all been training. Sometimes together, often separate. My longest run was last weekend. 10 miles. On the treadmill (it was cold out!). Long runs on the treadmill aren't actually all that bad. Especially if you're slow like me. I watched an entire movie and part of Grey's Anatomy.

I'm excited. I'm a little bit scared. I'm nervous. I'm hopeful.

P.S. Oh, and operation lung cleansing? Nearly 3 months. Easiest quit I've ever done.

One Day

2007-10-10T16:28:00.000-07:00

Like any other weekday morning, this morning I entered my son's bedroom with the plan to wake him up and get him ready for preschool.

(Why is that he is the most sound asleep when I need him to wake him up? When it’s 5 am and I’m trying to go for a run, I carefully tiptoe around the house and try to be as quiet as possible so that I do not wake him up. I sometimes hear him thrashing around in his room, kicking the wall in his sleep, and I tense up, afraid he is going to wake up and interfere with my ability to get my run in. But sure enough, when 7:15 rolls around, he is nearly impossible to wake up.)

As I sat there, and then laid there, trying to wake him up, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that one day he will…be a man. I cuddled up next to him, took a whiff of his sweet innocent neck and thought about the fact that one day he will…smell like a man. I stroked his little arms and thought about the fact that one day he will…be hairy and tall and big. As I looked at his sleeping face, still very much a baby face, I thought about the fact that one day when I catch a glimpse of him sleeping, I won’t think “oh, look how he sweet he looks.” One day, I won’t be able to pick him up out of bed and carry him out into the living room. One day he won’t ask me if he can lay on me “like a pillow” as he tries to wake up in the morning. One day I won’t want to nibble on his cheeks or nose or ears. One day he’s going to pronounce his “Ls” correctly and no longer say “wook, mommy, it’s a train!”

I don’t want him to grow up.

A Friend Could Use Your Kind Words

2007-10-04T09:33:00.000-07:00

I appreciate your visit to my poorly neglected blog.

My friend, Jenn, the talented writer at Serving the Queens lost her nephew, Sgt. First Class Matthew Blaskowski. She is creating a card for his parents from comments posted here,
http://iservethequeens.blogspot.com/2007/10/of-america-heroes.html. If you would like to offer your condolences, I encourage you to post there.

Thank you.

One More Reason Nylons are Evil

2007-09-12T10:18:00.000-07:00

I carry a backpack to work. Perhaps not the vision you have of a lawyer going to the office, but it’s really not out of place here. It may be the Pacific Northwest’s version of a briefcase. Or maybe it’s the fact I work for a government agency and things are tad bit more casual than if I worked in private practice. Or maybe it’s the fact that I work mostly with biologists and engineers and I fit in better when I accessorize my suit with a backpack.

The backpack certainly has utility. I need as many hands free as I can get when trying to wrangle two children into daycare, carry a purse, a lunch bag, and a cup of coffee, not to mention on Mondays, I’m also carrying the kids’ blankets and jackets. I have a couple of briefcases and they aren’t deep enough to hold much of anything – it’s so much easier to throw everything in a backpack.

Yesterday was only Tuesday so my hands were not quite as full as Mondays. Not to mention, I wasn’t coordinated enough to get my cup of coffee to go in the morning, so I had one less item to carry. After pulling into the parking garage under my building at work, I gathered the kids and my belongings. I muttered to myself at my forgetfulness to bring sunscreen for the kids (daycare asks that we apply it before they arrive, so I usually keep it in the van and apply it before we go in). We took the elevator up to the lobby saying hello to the security guards and smiling at the people walking through the lobby. I’m sure I even apologized to someone because G ran too quickly through the lobby to the entrance to his daycare.

As I dropped the kids off at daycare, I said my greetings to the teachers and parents we passed in the hall. When I got in the elevator only one other person, a co-worker/high level manager, was inside. We made some small talk on the way to our floor. As we got off, I know I said hello or good morning to at least one other person. I walked into the office, said hello to the secretary and then entered my own office. I slipped the backpack off my back on to the floor. To my utter amazement, I saw that the front pocket of my backpack was completely unzipped, with a flap hanging over revealing (among other things I’m sure) crumpled papers, E’s head band, and one stray nude thigh high nylon (you need a spare!). I gasped and laughed and I’m sure I turned beet red.

No one said anything to me?!?!?!

Courage to Start

2007-09-07T17:30:00.000-07:00

Today I registered for the Las Vegas 1/2 Marathon. The husband will be attempting it with me, but I welcome extra company. Jenn??? Christine??? I whole-heartedly welcome my running mentor, Treadmillista, although I know I'd only see a quick glimpse of her as she speeds pass me.

Also welcome suggestions for 1/2 marathon training plans. I have a few, but can't make up my mind.

Day 4 of Operation Lung Cleansing. Going strong.

Renewed Commitment

2007-09-05T12:09:00.000-07:00

I’ve fallen.

I don’t know when it happened exactly. I believe it started with a few drinks at this wonderful little hotel/lodge/brew pub that sprawls out over several acres near our house. I’m sure there was a nice little warm breeze going in the evening air while we sat talking outside with friends. My inhibitions were down. It sounded good. One turned into two. Two turned into three. Then every time I visited that place, it felt natural to allow it to happen there. That place became the place where I did it. “Just that place” I justified to myself, “I’ll throw them away before I leave.”

And I did. For a while. Then I started taking them home with me.

Naturally, it started to sound good in the evening at home with a glass of wine. “Just occasionally” I reasoned with myself.

Soon, it was on camping trips with a cold beer by the campfire. By the campfire? Well, not actually, usually I was hiding behind the trailer so the kids or mother-in-law wouldn’t catch me. “Just one more camping trip and then I’ll stop” I bargained with myself.

I’m so sick of having to repeat this commitment over and over and over. It's pathetic. And I went something like 6 months free and clear this year. GRRRRR! It’s become quite clear to me that I can not do the “occasional” or “social” thing. My mind loses the ability to think logically and creates faulty reasoning to justify my behavior.

No more.

Day 2 of Operation Lung Cleansing.

Now my attention is focused on whether I can convince my husband to do the Las Vegas ½ marathon in December with me.

Your Writing Sucks

2007-08-22T06:11:00.001-07:00

It's been so long since I've posted anything, I feel a bit of anxiety anytime I attempt to write something. My absence is due to a number of things - we've been camping every other weekend this summer and work has been a killer these last few months. And why does it seem time flies so dang fast? Summer is almost over??? And how is my baby girl already turning two this Friday???

But what better way to jump back in then to bitch about something?

I drafted a brief for one of my cases. Because there is a certain amount of controversy with the issue and the fact that it is a criminal case, it has been reviewed by numerous people - inside and outside my particular agency. Well, comments have poured in, revisions have been made. Brief is due this Friday. Yesterday I received some comments from a section of an agency. I had already received comments from another portion of the agency and their input was incorporated. The main thrust of the comments I received yesterday was that the document had "poor grammar." WTF? How is that helpful to me now? How about showing me suggested edits? Telling someone who authored the document that it is full of poor grammar is pretty damn useless when said author probably thought the document read just fine as is.

Granted, I am not a perfect writer. I know there are areas I am weak (for instance, I've never been able to recognize when I do the whole past tense thing or how to correct it). However, when it comes to legal arguments, I know how to analyze issues well. My arguments flow logically. I've always felt on some level I'm almost good at it (not to mention every lawyer I've worked with has commented favorably on my writing). So when I get some lawyer somewhere in the country put a big red mark on my document and provide me very little in the way of substance, well, it pisses me off! And I'm a bit embarrassed. But mostly irritated.

Why are vacations always more wonderful in hindsight?

2007-07-07T12:18:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. It’s been foreeevvveeer since I’ve posted.

We just returned from 5 nights at Wallowa Lake State Park in Eastern Oregon. Words can’t really describe the beauty, the fun, the relaxation, the memories.

Surrounded on three sides by snow-capped mountains, the remaining side, a view of the lake.

Morning runs along the river and lake when the air is still crisp but you can feel the heat of the day beginning. Paddle boat rides. Lazy afternoons of naps and reading followed by walks to the ice cream parlour. Bike rides through the campsite. Evenings spent grilling and sitting beside the campfire indulging in s’mores.

The highlight for all, especially my train-obsessed son, was the tram ride to the top of Mt. Howard. Sitting on the patio of the restaurant atop the 8,000+ summit, sipping Terminal Gravity IPA, admiring beauty you can’t really put your head around, baby girl too tired to wait for lunch, sleeping on my chest.

Perfect.

I know these memories are the ones that will remain as the other, less favorable ones fade. The 6 hour long drive with a son repeatedly telling us “I’m tired of driving.” Or feeling my husband’s heart breaking as our son tells him he just wants to go home. Or over-hearing my husband complain to my mother-in-law that everyone is so “dang negative” when I know I was the bitchy one that day. Or our daughter going temporarily insane during our attempt at a small hike because it is nap time.

Vacations are not all roses and sunshine all of the time. And I know sadly, I am to blame at times. It never fails that I have my moments of irritation. And we now know that the kids are not always going to enjoy what we enjoy.

But I am smart enough to snap myself out of joy-stealing moments. I know to savor lunch atop mountains and paddle boat rides and afternoon ice cream cones. At times I am an outsider looking in on my own life, wondering how things could possibly be better.

Can I Go Right Now? Can I?

2007-06-22T13:23:00.000-07:00

I'm just a tiny bit excited. I've made an overnight reservation for my husband and myself (yes, just the two of us) at this place:

Our view from our little cliffehouse (their spelling, not mine!) will be this:

And our package will be as follows:

Remember when your dates ended with breakfast?

Remember conversations with no interruptions?

Reconnect with your special someone - one night for two in a Cavern guest room with a king size bed, a bottle of premium wine and two unique wine glasses presented in a keepsake cedar box. Based on availability, upgrade to a One Bedroom Cliffehouse for an additional charge. This package includes tax and gratuities.

Ah, the future looks good. Only 48 more days.

The post where "BFF" is fitting if the term didn't make me want to throw up

2007-06-15T13:50:00.000-07:00

My husband and I had dinner with my best friend last weekend (the one who is a frequent participant in my imaginary conversations). She was down from Seattle to attend her niece’s graduation. I don’t see my friend all that often anymore. But when I do see her, it’s like no time has passed at all. We fall into easy conversation. And each time I see her, I remember why I adore her so much.

We grew up about a ½ mile from each other. We met at the ripe old age of 9. I don’t remember too many details of our relationship in those early years, but some details stand out. Her authentic bowl haircut and her need for a bra (I seem to recall the age of 9 or 10 her chest was already bigger than mine is now). When her dog Mickey died. The boy we both liked – her “going out” with him first, then me, then everyone else in our class.

We went on to the same junior high and high school. Had many of our “firsts” within a very short time of each other. She was the kind of friend who you could have deep conversations with(deciphering the lyrics of that Cure or Depeche Mode song is heavy stuff), and cry with but she also the kind of friend who you often laugh with so hard that your tummy hurt (listening to "Blister in the Sun" for the first time is a moment that comes readily to mind). She was often the life of the party, the social butterfly. A sharp contrast to my reserved, introverted demeanor.

There were periods of time during our college years where we seemed to grow apart. We ran in different circles – different majors, different groups of friends (her with the nature-loving science “geeks” (I mean that in the most endearing way) and me with the money hungry business majors (not so endearing)). There were times I mourned the fact that I didn’t seem to fit into her world. Times that I thought I should just quit trying to keep our friendship together when I didn’t feel any effort was being made on her part. But finally, I came to the realization that I treasured her so much in my life that I was just going to be happy with the times I did get to spend with her. Oh, and trying not to take things so damn personally (major weakness of mine) helped too.

That was a good move. We grew closer again as she moved on to veterinarian school and I to law school. The challenges and intensity of our respective programs gave us some additional common ground. She was my maid of honor at my wedding. And although she lived nearly 300 miles away in Seattle, she threw me a baby shower when I was pregnant with my son.

Every time I see her, I admire who she has become even more than I already did. Her passion for her work. Her zest for the outdoors. Her spontaneity. Her energy. Her quirky tastes in music, movies, and books. Her focus on doing anything she can to help the people she loves. Her willingness to drop everything to drive down to Portland whenever her family needs her.

I don’t think of her as just my oldest and dearest friend, she is truly a part of my family. She is the sister I never had (without the sibling rivalry).

I so wish we lived closer. I’d have a running buddy. I’d get to play auntie to all the children she will one day have.

I love you, Deb.

One for the baby book

2007-06-10T13:31:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago, hubby was giving the kids a bath. I was putting some clothes away in the other room and overheard my son say "eeeww, ick" and then hubby got him out of the tub. I heard some mention of "boogers." When hubby walked back in to the bathroom our daugther was saying "eeeww, ick" right as she scooped up a big pile of poo and put it on the bathtub ledge.

My goodness what a process that followed - disinfecting the tub, trying to quarantine the kids so they wouldn't rub the potential film of poo on their bodies on ANYTHING, putting screaming kids back into the tub to rebathe.

Down

2007-06-08T15:20:00.000-07:00

I think it’s fair to say people would normally consider me a pretty positive, happy person.

I don’t know where that girl is anymore. I’m not coping very well. I’ve been under a constant stretch of deadlines at work over the last few weeks and I’ve barely been able to come up for air. It feels like most of my waking hours anymore are spent working. My chest feels tight more often than I’d like, my tummy is restless, I sigh a lot. I often feel on the verge of tears, but nothing comes out. I don't feel like talking, reading blogs or posting. I’m feeling distant from my husband. I long to be able to play with my kids without the nagging feeling that I should be working.

I hate, hate, hate feeling this way.

I met a discovery deadline today (reading 400+ permit files is fun, I tell ya!) and so I’m feeling a little lighter. I may even be able to avoid doing any work this weekend. Maybe.

I’m leaving work early now. I’m going to go for a run in the sunshine and attempt to brush this off.

Seven Things

2007-05-29T12:30:00.000-07:00

So you’re visiting my little teeny tiny blog and you’re wondering “hey, I wonder what 7 things I could learn about PDX Mama today?” Or maybe it’s just Christine and Jennifer wondering that. Whoever it is that wants to know, here goes it:

One

Whenever someone asks me the question “if you could be whatever you wanted to be and get paid for it, what would you be?” the answer is: professional college student. I have fantasies of majoring in just about everything and acquire numerous degrees. I’d love to study biology, psychology, sociology, environmental science, English, I could probably go on. Unfortunately, I sold my soul in college and majored in Business (Finance, in particular) thinking it would be the most useful degree. If I had only known I was going to law school (where it really doesn't matter what undergrad degree you acquire), I could have stuck with what I really enjoyed.

Two

I love wine. Only red. I’m not very educated about wine, although I would like to be (the local community college has a certificate course, I’m nerdy enough to have aspirations to complete it one of these days in my spare time), so although I know wines that I like very much, I can’t really tell you why. I can’t explain that it’s because it’s full bodied, woody, or the like. But here are two favorites: St. Josef Pinot Noir and McMennamins Edgefield Pinot Noir Vintage Select. Both from local wineries.

Three

I’m married to someone with a green card. Shocking, eh? He hasn’t renewed his card yet, so it’s still a picture of a cute little barely English-speaking 8 year old Romanian boy. And no, marrying a citizen (that’s me) doesn’t make you one. He received no special citizenship privileges by marrying me since he was already a permanent resident. Some day when he gives a crap about voting or getting a passport, he’ll get his butt in the long ass queue to take the test and become what his children already are just because they were lucky enough to be born here.

Four

I think I’ve officially caught the running bug. Last week I actually got excited that I was able to squeeze in some time to run after work. I have a Word document on my computer of all the races in the area over the next year and I get butterflies in my tummy thinking about which ones I can do and when. Before you start thinking "she must have lost a ton of weight," I am bummed to report, I haven’t lost a damn pound since I took this up in January. Please no “muscle weighs more than fat” comments. Some of my pants actually got tighter around the thighs. Sure, maybe it’s muscle – but I don’t know many girls that actually want to get BIGGER. My husband tries to tell me he likes muscular legs and can't stand skinny legs, but like any sensible woman, who believes what their mate says about what they find attractive? Nevertheless, I’m going to keep at it because the thought that maybe one day I can run the unthinkable, a marathon, is an accomplishment I get very giddy about.

Five

I have a lot of guilty pleasures that I indulge in. I look forward to Fridays, not just because it means the weekend is coming, but because the new People Magazine is available. It may be full of a lot of useless information, but occasionally, it serves a purpose – I can usually score pretty well in pop culture trivia games. I like just about anything on VH1. “Best Week Ever” is particularly entertaining, but I stoop so low as to even watch the Flavor Flav spin offs (what is up – New York is having another show??? Things didn’t work out with what’s-his-face? Shocking!).

Six

Sometimes I think I engage in too much retail therapy. I have a ritual of going to Target every weekend. I love Target, by the way. I try to justify it by saying it’s all stuff we really need, but I’m beginning to think I just like buying stuff. I always feel a little guilty afterward. Me thinks a spending diet is in my future.

Seven

Next to camping, probably our favorite outing, with or without the kids, is going to brew pubs. Have we officially become trailer trash? Perhaps. When we camp in Pacific City, it's the Pelican Pub. When we camp in Newport, it's the Rogue Brewery . When we camp in Sunriver, it's Deschutes Brewery. I suspect when we camp in the Columbia River Gorge area, it will be the Full Sail Brewery. When we're around home, it's McMennamins. There's just something about going to one of these brew pubs, which typically is located in a nearly idyllic setting (on the beach, on the bay, overlooking the river), looking at the view, having a good microbrew and a hearty lunch. They're also pretty family friendly, so we don't get overly embarrassed when our kids start whining or throwing things (or maybe it's the beer goggles that make it all seem a little better).

So, two of the 7 relate to alcohol? Is that Meredith Viera I hear "tsk, tsk, tsking" me in my head?
I tag Fairly Odd Mother and I'm going to branch out and tag one of my new favorite blogs, Serving the Queens (of course, I don't know her too well and she writes so dang eloquently, not sure if she'll join in on such silliness) to join in on the fun of spilling 7 things about themselves.

(Not) Working 9 to 5

2007-05-21T05:41:00.000-07:00

I should be working right now. It's 5:40 am. I'm at home in my PJs. But I'm not working at the moment because I am a procrastinator. One would think that a habitual procrastinator would learn what that does to oneself. But we don't, do we? What is it? Do we thrive under pressure? Do we a get a thrill out of putting something off for a few more minutes? Does it remedy the perfectionist tendencies because "ooooh, I have to get this finished right now, I don't have the time to read it one more time?"

Last week was one of the busiest weeks I've had in a very long time. Instead of waking up to run in the morning, I woke up to work before I got into work. Why? Because I hate working in the evening. When I get home from work, my brain turns to mush.

But I almost feel guilty for whining about it because I know there are a great many lawyers out there who have those weeks, every week. And I'm not even a trial lawyer. I'm in house counsel at the beck and call of those trial lawyers in D.C. Last week, there was a lot of beck and call.

I am not cut out for long hours. I get very resentful and pissy. See, out of law school, I chose the lesser paid path. I chose to work for the government. One of the rewards was basically, a 40 hour work week. Of course, there are times when the work cup runneth over. Last week was one of those. And this week doesn't look much better. Except that I'm taking Friday off so we can go be trailer trash for the long weekend.

OK, really must do some work now.

Damn Ovaries

2007-05-11T11:03:00.000-07:00

I was just checking in with Mom-101 to see if she had her baby yet. She is being induced today, perhaps even having her baby as I write this.

I felt a little jealous as I was reading her last post before the birth of her second child. Jealous? Isn't that crazy?

I remember the anticipation before the birth of my babies. The excitement of the entire birthing process (see, you do forget the pain!). The emotion that involuntarily pours out of your body after the little one is born. Meeting your child for the first time. Inspecting every inch of their body. Does he/she have daddy’s ears? Mommy’s eyes? The attention you get from all the well wishers who want to come congratulate you and see your newborn. The doting nurses who bring you water bottles with crushed ice (let’s just gloss over the ones that wake you at 1 am to give you another bag of antibiotics in your IV). The peri-bottle (am I the only one who didn't mind it?). That foggy state in the first few weeks when I had little appetite for anything other than a smoothie and I watched The Wedding Singer every single day.

I have this very romantic recollection of it all (interesting how the NICU, c-section complications, nursing struggles, pumping, baby blues, and lack of sleep have faded from their former prominent place in my memory). Which, on one hand, is nice. Who doesn’t want good memories to pull up every now and then?

On the other hand, it’s very bad for my ovaries. It makes them ache. I get an actual physical craving for a baby. Similar to a craving for chocolate, complete with that tingle in your mouth and the extra saliva. Only, it’s worse because I really don’t want to hold a big bar of chocolate. My arms begin to feel empty and I want to fill them up with a tiny little body whose shape molds to the contours of my arms. I want to hold his/her scrunched up little body with those little legs tucked up under his/her tummy against my chest. I want to take a nap with a sleeping baby snuggled up to my neck. I want to hear his/her little grunts and squeaks. I want to bury my nose in the folds of the baby’s neck and take a big sniff of that incomparable new baby smell. I want to rub my cheeks against his/her baby soft face.

The problem is, I don’t really want to do hold someone else’s baby (which I will be able to do come November with the birth of my niece or nephew). I want that baby to be mine.

Must focus on the hubby’s irritating sighing and complaints about never having enough time to accomplish anything. Another child will NOT remedy that.

Who knew fatigues were so hard to explain

2007-05-07T18:30:00.000-07:00

I haven’t been faced with many awkward conversations with my children. I know they will come. The inevitable: “How are babies made?”, “Why does Billy go to church and we don’t?”, “Is Santa real?” I figure I still have a little time to bide before those come up.

But I never anticipated how to respond to the “What is the military?” question. Without going into too many details, I work amongst military officials. In fact, they are the top leaders in the organization I work for. After I picked up the kids yesterday and headed towards the parking garage, two of them were in the hallway dressed in their military uniforms. G notices and says “who are they?” As I approach, one of them asks in a pleasant, friendly manner “what did he say?” I repeat what my son said and the men reply, “we are [insert your favorite military branch] men!” Naturally, being an inquisitive three year old, G then asks me, “what are [specific military branch] men?” I was able to distract him a bit when one of the men started serenading the kids with a military song. The entire trip in the elevator.

G continued to ask me questions about them as we separated from the men and walked to our van. I was slightly surprised at how awkward I found the whole conversation. My mind went blank on how to explain who/what they were, in terms understandable to a three year old, without references to fighting, war, bombs, or guns. How do you explain the military to your children? I brushed it off superficially with reference to their uniforms and somehow made the illogical leap to submarines. Saved for the moment, although it's only a matter of time before it comes up again.

Loss for Words

2007-05-03T21:45:00.000-07:00

I got nothing. I’d say I have writer’s block, but doesn’t that sound presumptious, that I’m a “writer”?

So what's been happening in my little world?

A few weeks ago, I ran a 5K. It was fun. I have the bug and I want to do something longer. Maybe a 10K in June and then we'll see. I have aspirations for bigger challenges, but I'm afraid to admit to them, afraid I'll never be able to accomplish them, so I'll stop right there.

I did resolve the issue I was a big crybaby about. I got myself invited to the meeting. Which is good professionally, not so great personally, as it means a trip out of town. However, Seattle is the destination, the home of my bestest friend in the whole wide world, so it won't be all bad personally.

We took another trip out in the camper, spent a long weekend at the coast. It was nice. We're going to have one busy summer, I think we may be trailer trash every other weekend.

I also was nominated for something! Christine, a wonderful friend, and the beautiful, intelligent, talented author of Watch me! No, Watch Me! nominated me for not one, but two Blogger’s Choice Awards.

The very obvious award, to anyone who comes in to contact with me:

I mean, the one and only picture of me on this blog sporting a PFD and ginormous goggles obviously says that I’m one hot mommy blogger.

Thank you. It’s very rare anyone uses the term “hottest mommy blogger” when referring to me. Actually, this is a first. I will accept the nomination. However, I’ve seen some pretty hot mommy bloggers out there, I think the competition may be tough. I’m not even going to link to them, lest you betray me and go vote for them. Not withstanding the fact that I may be a very hot mommy blogger, I predict this nomination will remain just that, a nomination.

And so, come November 10th (anyone else think that is an awfully long wait time before award?), I am sure I will echo those who have lost out on an Oscar, Grammy, Emmy, or MTV Music video award (except Kanye West or Eddie Murphy) by saying “it was just a pleasure to be nominated.”

Additionally, I was nominated for:

Again, I appreciate the nomination immensely. I’d say “I all but guarantee”, but I’m going out on a limb and say “I guarantee” that I will only be saying “it was just an honor to be nominated.” A glance at virtually any of the blogs I link to shows the competition is fierce.

Thank you, my friend. It was a nice little ego boost to be nominated even if you will be the sole voter!

Weak Moment

2007-04-18T18:00:00.000-07:00

I cried today at work, because of work. In front of a co-worker. The co-worker actually had his “friend” hat on at the time, so I don’t feel completely unprofessional, but still. I feel so very weak and wimpy when I cry at work (which has, so far, only happened in the presence of people with their “friends” hats on). I try very hard to maintain the illusion that I’ve got it together at work. I don't think there are a lot of people who view a woman crying at her desk as showing strength in the workplace.

I won’t go into the full details, but I broke down because I was NOT asked to attend/participate in something, which I had always assumed I would attend. I found out that it had been scheduled in a roundabout fashion. When I probed further and said I wanted to attend, I got a fuzzy response about not knowing whether or not I’m “invited” at this time. There are very logical reasons why I SHOULD be invited and if I was completely rational about the whole thing, I would look at it as a slight for my agency that I wasn’t invited and pursue it from there.

But no, I take it personally. What did I do wrong that would cause them to think I was so indispensable? Are they mad because I procrastinated on certain tasks? Have I not been a strong enough advocate so that I come across as worthless? I immediately focus on all my insecurities and fear they see them too and that is the reason for this slight.

I have a plan, all based on the logical thing to do, that should remedy the slight and get me to the table. But how do you remedy deep seated insecurities? How do you stop taking everything personally?

Evolving Inspirations

2007-04-13T14:29:00.000-07:00

I was reading Chicken and Cheese’s touching piece about who has inspired her to make some healthy changes and it got me thinking about who/what inspired me to make my own changes.

At the end of 2006, I made some resolutions, geared toward making healthy lifestyle changes. I vowed to quit smoking and start exercising on a consistent basis.

I am pleased to report that I am not a statistic. I keep my resolutions. All the boring details of the journey chronicled here.

Not one cigarette has been smoked since Dec. 31, 2006 at approximately 11:58 p.m. Even though I spent 5 nights in Vegas in February. Yes, Vegas. Getting through Vegas without smoking is an accomplishment all on its own. And I’m not ashamed to give myself props for that.

Additionally, I have been waking my ass up most mornings before the family wakes up so that I can squeeze in some exercise. I am NOT a morning person. It is really hard to get out of bed when you know you could easily just turn off the alarm and get another hour of sleep. But I get up, get some coffee, wake up with a little me-Internet-time, and then hop on the treadmill.

Why do I do it?

Initially, I used my kids as the reason or the inspiration. You know, set a good example for them, practice what I preach, blah, blah. And of course, the general desire to be healthy.

Currently, my reasons have morphed into something I did not anticipate. Specifically, I’m talking about my reasons for running. I consider the smoking thing to be over and done with. I don’t need any further inspiration or reasoning to refrain from lighting up again. But running is anything but passive and requires effort to keep up.

You have to understand, I had very little confidence in whether I could be a runner. I have never thought of myself as particularly athletic. I’m slow. I could lose a few pounds. I have always thought running was boring. I thought people that ran long distances were crazy. I thought I’d injure myself. And where am I going to find the time between working full time, raising two young children, and tending to that little thing called a marriage?

I now run 3 miles a few times during the week with a little longer run on the weekend. I don’t look at myself the same way I used to. I’m doing something I did not believe I would be able to do. I’m setting goals that I would like to achieve. I’m looking at possible races I’d like to complete. Never in my life did I think I would want to attempt a marathon and now I’m pondering “when can I be ready?” I think about what it would be like to complete one. Would I collapse? Would I cry? Would I spew out profanities to all the naysayers who thought I couldn’t do it?

When my father was my age, he was wondering why his legs kept giving out on him. In less than a year, he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, which slowly robbed him of his ability to walk. Most of his adult life, running was an impossibility. It is not for me.

Probably the most welcome surprise of all of this is that I've finally found something that is 100% for me. Like most moms, I’m busy. My card is full of obligations and responsibilities and "shoulds" and trying to do the "right thing." Running is my time.

Meddling Coworker Vignette #2

2007-04-09T11:00:00.000-07:00

I don’t know if “meddling” is the right word. “Sanctimommy” comes to mind. As does “mind your own business, you old bag.” I get little nuggets of mothering advice from a certain coworker from time to time and I think it’s fitting that periodically, I memorialize those nuggets. After all, you never know when it might be helpful to another mother out there.

Edited to add -

Another Mom Creation's comment reminded me that the conversation actually started with her asking me if I was sick and when I said no, she then asked me if my daughter was sick, which was a perfect lead in for...

Coworker: (smiling) “I saw your daughter outside the other day.”

Me: “Really?” (perhaps she is going to tell me how beautiful and adorable she is?).

Coworker: “Yes, it and it was so cold.”

Me: “Uh huh” (hmmm, I bet I know where this is going).

Coworker: “Yes, and did you know she wasn’t even wearing a hat?”

Me: “Hmmm.”

Coworker: “And her nose was all red and she was crying. I told those teachers she should be wearing a hat! The people with me said I shouldn’t do that, but I told them ‘that is Misty’s daughter.’”

Me: “Oh.”

Coworker: “My kids always wore hats. If they took them off, I made sure they put them right back on.”

Me: “Yeah. I must go to lunch now.”

I have a feeling it probably wasn’t even my kid anyway.

An Ode to RVing

2007-04-04T12:43:00.000-07:00

My husband checks the weather channel several times a day. For the Portland forecast, you ask? No. He’s checking for the extended forecast in Sunriver or Pacific City or Newport to see if a camping trip is in our future this weekend. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen him as excited about anything as he is about hauling our travel trailer to campgrounds.

I was considering using his upcoming birthday as an excuse for a quick little getaway for just the two of us. Maybe stay at a hotel at our favorite beach. Spend some time at the local brew pub. Do you know what he would rather do? Go camping with the kids and I.

We’ve gone three times since the beginning of this year. Three times during the winter – what do you think that means for our summer? I suspect we’ll be going every other weekend.

I have a suspicion that there are those out who think staying in trailer in a campground is about the worst idea for a vacation/weekend getaway ever. Or maybe you’re thinking “isn’t that something old people do?”

There was a time I might agree with that sentiment.

I was not raised in a family of outdoor enthusiasts. There were a handful of camping experiences when my step-father was in the picture during my teen years. A couple here and there with friends. It was fun. But never anything I went out of my way to encourage happening. I wasn’t a real outdoor kind of gal. Once I had a say in vacation planning, hotels and fine dining were prerequisites. So understand, this camping thing is not ingrained into my being.

But now? I think differently. Camping has become one of the easiest and most fun methods for us to vacation as a family now. No doubt it helps that we have all the creature comforts of home in our trailer. A flushable toilet. A bathtub/shower. Real beds with sheets, even! A television. A refrigerator, stove, oven, microwave. A couch. A table with booths.

Although I might not rise to the level of my husband’s passion for thinking this is the best way to vacation ever, I do think our trailer was one of the best things we’ve ever gone in debt for.

Here are the Top 10 Reasons RVing is Good Fun:

10. It’s a good excuse to leave work early on Friday.

9. It provides one of the most simple and fun family activities at night: Campfire & S’mores.

8. It’s a good reason not to do house work/yard work.

I think this is a huge reason why my husband likes to go so often. It feels like we’re sneaking away from all the responsibilities back home. But the house is always still intact when we get home. The laundry and dust patiently wait for us. But for the 2 or 3 days that we’re gone, we have no choice but NOT to do house work or yard work. Relieves some of the anxiety we often feel when we’re sitting around the house thinking of all that we should be doing. And without that stuff hanging over our heads, we all get to spend time together without our attention divided amongst other things.

7. If you like lists, you have the opportunity to perfect the “perfect” list of “items to leave in the trailer,” “items that need resupplying,” and “items that need packing before every trip.”

I know, I’m a mega dork, but I really do enjoy refining and coming up with the “perfect” list. My hope is that we'll get this getting ready thing down to a science.

6. If you don’t mind the fact you have to drive there, you can vacation just about anywhere.

Is there an area of the state or nearby states you’d like to visit? Maybe a national park you’ve always wanted to visit? No need to scout for a decent hotel, just hook the trailer up and go. You can find a campsite virtually anywhere. Of course, I'm anal retentive and like to do a little planning. I want to know exactly where we are staying and I prefer we have a reservation.

5. If your family really likes to get away to certain spots (i.e., a certain beach, resort town), you can go quite often on the cheap.

Prior to getting our trailer when we went to the coast, we’d rent a house, but at $150-200 a night, the weekend wasn’t cheap and we couldn’t do it all that often. Even with a monthly trailer payment, it's a fraction of what a weekend cost renting a house and we can go as often as we want. All three of our trips this year have been to our favorite beach on the Oregon coast. Now that we can go just about as frequently as we want, we’ve developed a routine of what we do there (including the necessary visit to the brew pub for lunch on Saturday). I tend to develop certain attachments to places, especially those in which we develop routines/rituals. Because of that, this beach has a certain "home" feeling to it. Now, if we could just buy a home there someday...

4. The family gets a healthy dose of exposure to the outdoors and the opportunities that the outdoors provides.

In most cases, all you need to do is open your trailer door to have ready access to places to go for walk, hike, swim, bike, fish. Or take a short (or long) drive without the trailer to whatever attraction, swimming hole, or hiking/biking trail you’d like to see in the area.

3. The anticipation of “getting away.”

Getting up early is always more enjoyable if it means you are getting away for some fun. And isn’t it more fun to think you’re taking off for the weekend FOR FUN than having to deal with the long list of “to dos” at home?

2. If the kids aren’t screaming the whole time, the road trip can actually be a little fun.

There’s often nice scenery. You have TIME to catch up on your trashy magazines or that huge stack of parenting magazines you haven’t read yet (so long as car sickness doesn't get the better of you). And since you’re trapped in the vehicle with little else to do, you might even have a nice little conversation with your significant other.

1. Memories.

I'll refrain from my instinctual desire to get all sappy. But you know what I mean here.

The latest report from my husband is that the weather looks good in Sunriver this weekend. So at 2 pm on Friday, I’ll head out of work, go downstairs to the daycare to pick up (and quite possibly, wake up) the kids. We’ll stop at the little market in the building to pick up some treats for the road. Then go outside to wait for Daddy to arrive in his big ass truck, carrying the big ass trailer, and be on our way.

Now, off to consult my lists and see what we need to do to be ready.

Google Fun

2007-04-02T06:34:00.000-07:00

I realize that learning where visitors to your blog come from can be a blessing and/or a curse. It can also just be good fun.

To the person who is wondering "is Portland humid," the answer is yes, when it’s raining. Otherwise, no. When it’s not raining and we think it’s humid, those just about anywhere but the west coast who really know humidity would roll their eyes at us silly people.

To the person who googled "examine penis," I’m sure you were disappointed that this site wasn’t more helpful. My son doesn’t quite know how to examine his either, unless by "examine" you mean hands in your underwear any chance you get. I wish you luck.

To the person who googled "withe my finger i feel my self," I assume you were sorely disappointed this site wasn’t more instructive or “productive.” But I am confident that you figured it out.

To the persons who are wondering about "frequent braxton hicks contractions," I feel you, I really do. No doubt, I googled that many times myself during my pregnancies. I will resist giving out any medical advice, but from my experience, there are times that what feels like braxton hicks are not just "practice contractions" but are the beginning of the real thing. Trust your instincts, call the doctor if you are concerned.

To the person who is looking for the origins of that saying, "motherhood is having your heart walk outside of your body," yeah, I couldn’t find it either. But it is true, I promise.

To the person who is wondering how many "calories pumping nursing," I like to think just as much as if you were nursing. Just remember, when you stop pumping, you need to stop eating so much. I made the mistake of not adjusting my food intake downward and here I am, months later and 5 lbs heavier. Damn, pumping/nursing was a good weight loss plan (for me, I recognize not everyone else gets the same benefits).

There were some eye-popping googles that somehow got someone here, but I am too prudish to note them and I would feel dirty if someone googled them again and got right back here.

It’s All in Your Head

2007-03-16T12:30:00.000-07:00

Goal: Run 30 minutes or approximately 2.5 miles

Starting my run: “Hey, didn’t I just read that the first 15 minutes are the hardest? Is that really true? If I can just get past that, I’ll be fine.”

2 minutes into my run: “My chest feels funny. Am I getting sick?”

5 minutes into my run: (listening to baby monitor) “Do I hear E on the baby monitor?” (mulling over in my head whether that would be a bad thing) “If she wakes up at least I can quit running.”

8 minutes into my run: “I am so tired.”

10 minutes into my run: “I could always stop and run tomorrow.”

12 minutes into my run: “Man, I’m tired. Am I getting sick?”

13 minutes into my run: (cheap mp3 player breaks down on me, turn on TV to one of the digital music stations and pray for some decent music)

16 minutes into my run: “What’s that saying? ‘Don’t put off today what you could do tomorrow’? No, that’s not right. ‘Don’t put off tomorrow what you could do today.’” (sink in, sink in, sink in)

18 minutes into my run: “So I passed 15 minutes, why isn't this getting easier?” (checking baby monitor) “Nothing? Oh, please wake up. Not only will I get to stop running, but I can milk it and make hubby feel guilty that he went to the gym and left me with the kids.” (Ooops, did I just admit that?)

20 minutes into my run: “If I could just make it to 24 minutes – that will be 2 miles. This could be my easy run for the week and I can always run further tomorrow.”

24 minutes into my run: “OK, 2 miles completed. Let’s take this one minute at a time. Only 3 more minutes and I’ll be at 2.25. I've been doing that for the last couple of weeks, so it's not that out of reach.”

27 minutes into my run: “I can go 3 more minutes and get to 2.5 miles. And I was going to quit?”

30 minutes into my run: (Carrie Underwood “Before he Cheats” comes on, sadly this is the best song they’ve played yet) “I was going to up my mileage this week, maybe I can push it and reach 2.75 after all.”

33 minutes into my run: “I have just ran the farthest I’ve ran in years. If I just go 3 more minutes, I will reach 3 miles (which was my ultimate goal at the beginning of the year).”

36 minutes into my run: 3 miles completed, although the body feels like it could do more, must stop to get ready for work.

I hate to boast, but I’m pretty damned pleased with myself. Not much more than 10 weeks ago I was smoking every night, never exercising, and the thought of running any distance was something I thought was reserved for crazy people that for some bizarre reason enjoy running (yes, Heather, I thought you were crazy).

A 5K actually sounds realistic to me now. A 10K still sounds like an awful lot of running, but I'm still going to shoot for doing one in August.

Now why does the friggin’ scale tell me I’m up one pound? And please don't try to make me feel better by saying muscle weighs more than fat. It's so not comforting.

Real Moms Think Their Children are Beautiful, Sometimes

2007-03-14T09:49:00.000-07:00

There was another “real mom” set of truths that I considered posting initialing, but I didn’t want to put a damper on the lightness and fun of the meme going around. So, this is separate.

Real moms think their children are the most beautiful children in the world.

I remember when my son was born, I truly felt he was most the beautiful baby in the whole world. Without a doubt. Never. Seen. A. Cuter. Baby. I could not believe how perfect he was. His head was lovely and round. He had rolls in all the right places. He had a nice color. Looking back on his baby pictures, I still think he was adorable, but the most beautiful baby in the whole world? He’s just gotten so much cuter, so much more handsome that his newborn baby pictures pale in comparison to what he looks like now.

I can honestly say though, right now, he is the most beautiful little boy in the whole world. Without a doubt.

A darker truth: sometimes, real moms don’t think their children are the most beautiful children in the world.

My daughter arrived unexpectedly more than 6 weeks before her due date. I caught a quick glimpse of her after the c-section before they whisked her off to find out what was wrong with her. The only thing I remember about the way she looked is that she wasn’t as tiny as I thought she might be and she had a head full of dark hair. Hubby brought me a Polaroid shot of her while I waited in the recovery room. At under 5 pounds and 18 inches long, I don’t think there was an ounce of fat on her body. She was skinny. One of her eyes was closed. When they wheeled me into the NICU to see her, she was naked and looked so tiny. She still had some lunago. Her back and ears were especially fuzzy. Tubes were everywhere. I told her she was beautiful, because I felt that is what I was supposed to say. But the truth is, it hurt to look at her. The early photos of her are part of her history and so they must be in her baby book, but I still don’t like to look at them.

But now? Oh, undoubtedly the most beautiful little girl in the world.

Real Moms Sacrifice Fashion

2007-03-12T21:15:00.000-07:00

Perhaps it's going days without showers (thank goodness for pony tails!) or walking around with a maternity t-shirt (6 months post-partum) that has drool, spit up, pee, poo, and possibly other fluids on it or perhaps it's putting on goggles, a hard hat and a strange life preserver vest (that looks like it is in need of a breast uplift) to help bring home the bacon, whatever it is, we all do it from time to time.

Real Moms. Making fashion don'ts the new fashion.

I was tagged by Fairly Odd Mother (who was tagged by Kristen at The Mom Trap). I tag Heather, i obsess, Chicky Chicky Baby, and Lawyer Mama.

The "how to": write a post "Real Moms [insert what you do here]", followed by an explanation, a picture, and a "Real Moms. Making ....". Then tag five people.

February ROFL Awards

2007-03-08T19:46:00.000-08:00

When Chicky Chicky Baby announced the call for nominations for the February ROFL awards, which she and Metro Mama and IzzyMom are taking the helm of, I knew exactly what who I wanted to nominate.

I found myself patrolling the talented, hilarious, and glowingly pregnant Suburban Turmoil one day while at the office. Mistake. Post after post, I found myself having to stifle the giggles. Some chuckles could not be stifled, but hopefully my co-workers just figured I was laughing at Justice Scalia's creative use of the dictionary to craft new law.

I nominated her post, Oh Cringe. I have to be honest, I could have nominated a number of her posts (this was a close second), but I settled on this one in which she takes a trip down memory lane to the days of Generra and Forenza by sharing an intimate (for 13) and hilarious post from her diary. Except for the fact she was getting heavy at 13 (I was deep in dork-dom at that age, only just realizing that you do not buy your clothes at K-Mart) her journal entry could have come from one of my own! Thank you for making me laugh time and time again, Lindsay!

Dear Me

2007-03-05T06:30:00.000-08:00

This letter is part of the "Dear Me" project started by Miscellaneous Mom, I got wind of it from reading the lovely GingaJoy.

Dear Me (February 21, 2005):

I know it’s a little odd to be getting a letter from your future self, and it’s only your future self 2 measly years from now. But when I thought about anything I wish I could go back and tell myself, this was the first and only date that came to mind. The only thing in my life I truly wish I could go back and change.

I know you are very busy. You’re probably running after G right now. But wishing you could just sit down and rest and that the morning sickness would subside. It will subside. A little more morning sickness this time around, huh? Wonder what that could mean? :-)

Did you check your voicemail? There is a message from Dad. He left it on Saturday, the day he got out of the hospital. Listen to it.

You have the day off today. I know you were contemplating visiting him. But it feels like a burden and you’d rather just hang out with G. You’re thinking about going to Target, aren’t you? Dad is practically across the street from Target. Not much of an effort to get there.

No matter how much you try to talk yourself out of going, please go visit him. He just got out of the hospital and as you’ve learned from the voicemail, he knows you’re pregnant. Go share the good news with him in person. Maybe even bring that early ultrasound picture, I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that. Bring G over there for a short visit with his grandpa. Tell your dad that if he ever has to go to the hospital again, to call you and let you know. And for good measure, go tell the people at the foster care home that you want them to call you if he should ever have to go to the hospital again.

And tell him I love him.

Love,

Me (2007)

To the one or two readers who might read this - I've been waffling on posting this so close in time to the letter to my dad. I don't want to cause anyone worry that I'm not coping well. I am really, really fine (although I do love you for caring). It's just that with the anniversary of his death, he's been on my mind more than usual lately.

Cute boy clothes, really

2007-03-02T06:29:00.000-08:00

Occasionally, there are boy clothes I almost cannot resist (but in this case, I must since G will be 4 in 4 months, it's not T-shirt weather yet, and it only comes in 3T) compliments from Babystyle.com:

I'm also a little partial to this one, although I feel a little reluctant to speak for my son, also from babystyle.com:

That came out of my mouth?

2007-03-01T07:30:00.000-08:00

When did the word “hard core” become such a prevalent part of my vocabulary?

I noticed I use it fairly frequently these days when I was talking to a manager I work with. He's a good 20 years older then me. I can’t remember what he said, but I called him “hard core” and then after I said it, I realized I’m using some sort of a trendy phase. I then became very aware every time I thought about uttering the phrase (which I soon found out was oddly frequent). Now, my self consciousness often gets the best of me and I refrain from saying it.

*****

When I used to go down and nurse my son in daycare, I’d often call down first to see if he was awake, hungry, etc. One day, when he was around 10 months old, I called around lunchtime to check on him. He was eating some solid food. For some reason I felt compelled to share with the daycare provider that I would then “go eat, myself” but it came out like “I’ll go eat myself.”

Feel free to assure me that I'm not the only one who makes an ass of myself.

Girlie Stuff

2007-02-27T11:16:00.000-08:00

Today I had my annual girlie exam. I thought about changing what I call it for purposes of this blog. As a woman, I should be perfectly comfortable with the correct name for the procedure, right? Sure. But if I were conversing with you in person, I’d call it a girlie exam. So, I’m just trying to keep it real.

Although I should be used to the experience by now, I still feel dreadfully uncomfortable once that damn speculum comes near me. And then I find myself doing awkward things with my hands while it is happening as I anticipate the dreaded scraping that is about to happen. I might tap my fingers on my tummy or rub my hand over that noisy paper on the bed or put my hands on my head and squeeze my fingers. Often, the midwife or OB will ask me if I’m OK. Of course, I say “yes” often followed by a nervous chuckle. But the truth is I find the whole experience ICKY. I’m sorry, I can’t come up with a word that better fits how I feel about it. Did I mention the dreadful scraping? Ick.

So, as someone who probably finds the experience irrationally more uncomfortable than the average woman, what to my delight should happen today? It seemed she was taking quite a while to tighten the implement. She moved that damn speculum in every different direction. I started having irrational thoughts about what she was seeing in there that was delaying the inevitable. Well, it seems she couldn’t find my cervix. She asked if anyone had ever had trouble finding it before. Well, every year, it’s been her that has done this and I don’t recall it being an issue. I swear, this process took a good couple of minutes. Eventually I did some tilting and she found it up high somewhere near my throat or something.

Ugh. Can’t wait for next year.

Dear Dad

2007-02-23T06:25:00.000-08:00

Today is the second anniversary of your passing. In some ways it doesn’t feel like it could possibly be that long ago. I still have the last message you left me in my voicemail inbox. Every 100 days, an automated message tells me that the message has been saved for 100 days, plays the message, and only then asks me if I want to save or delete it. I wish it would give me the option of saving it before it played the message. Hearing your voice makes it seem like only yesterday you were here.

But it wasn’t just yesterday. I was about two months pregnant with E at that time. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself that I was pregnant with your second grandbaby. I know you would harbor no ill will, but I still very much regret it.

She is now 18 months old. You would have been fascinated with the story of her dramatic birth. I can almost picture you telling the story every time you were to show a picture of her or introduce her to someone. You would adore her. Mom tells me she looks like me when I was that age. She’s got the same curly hair, although it’s a little lighter in color than my own. But she has blue eyes! I’m thinking they may stay that way. She’s a petite little thing. At her last doctor appointment, she was still in the 3rd percentile for weight. She babbles quite a bit and some words are even understandable (“mama” is my personal favorite, although the emphatic “ohhhhhhhhhh nooooooo!” is also quite endearing)! She’s a sweetheart. She seems to be a bit more fearless than myself. I like that.

The last time you saw G, he must have been about 17 or 18 months old. He is now 3.5. Like you and I, he loves watching TV and movies. He also loves trains. And he’s just recently become enamored with jigsaw puzzles. You can almost see the wheels spinning in his head as he tries to put the pieces together. And he’s so very proud of himself when it’s completed. I am especially delighted that he is starting to say “I love you” so much these days. And nearly every day he tells me in a very sincere voice “I like you, Mom” often followed by “you’re my friend” or “you’re my best friend.”

It makes me sad that they will never know you and you them. They do have a couple of other grandpas. One is as crazy as the dickens, the other, who is married to Mom, is a good grandpa.

I think you’d be happy with how much they are loved. I think you’d be happy to know that no one, who ever claims to love them, lays a finger on them.

The boys? They’re doing OK. N is taking some classes at a community college. Mom says he’s a terrific writer. Maybe one day we’ll have a screenwriter in the family! C is working full time, at the same place Mom is working. He’s living with his girlfriend. I think the boys are both doing OK, but it’s a hard age and they’re still trying to figure out what they want to do with their lives.
I know you’d probably ask how Mom was doing. She’s doing well. Probably the happiest I’ve seen her in years. Her hubby takes great care of her. He’s an exceptionally nice and patient man.

As for me, I’m doing really good. I feel like I’ve become a lot more relaxed and laid back over the years. Perhaps something other than my looks that I inherited from you.

The kids keep me plenty busy. We’ve been getting them outdoors, taking them on camping trips in our travel trailer. We have quite a few trips lined up for the summer. I know you’d probably ask what we’re pulling the trailer with. I’d leave that to Hubby to fill you in about his truck, how much horsepower and torque it has, and other “guy” details I like to ignore.

Work is going fine. I know what you’re going to ask. No, I’m not an environmentalist. I just work on environmental matters as an attorney. You’ve heard about wetlands? Well, my work often involves those. And no, I don’t make that specific, milestone, amount that you always asked me about. Maybe in a few years. Remember, I work for the government, I don’t make as much as I would have had I worked in a big firm.

I’ve taken up running. I think you’d be proud of that. Others in the position you were might feel a pang of jealousy, but you were not that way. I know you would want me to take advantage of my working legs.

I know what you would ask next. And no, I will not tell you how much I weigh now. Perhaps the boys would be willing to share their weight with you.

One further thing, I hate to disappoint you, but you can no longer brag to your friends and acquaintances that I have no cavities. I have one now. I’ll blame it on chocolate consumption during my pregnancies!

So, that’s what’s been going on here.

I think about you, especially around the holidays. Especially in February. And when I drive past the adult foster care home you lived in. And when people complain about aches and pains or when my father-in-law wallows in his own self-pity. I can’t help but think “Dad would never have said/done that.”

I like to think that wherever you are, you’re up walking around. Easily. Free of pain. With a head of thick bushy dark hair and that big jolly smile on your face. Perhaps with a big cheeseburger in your hand or a “malt-ball” blizzard (I should really try to order one in honor of you, but I fear the giggles would get the best of me).

I miss you. I love you.

Love,

“Meenacaddarie”

Where did the blogging bug go?

2007-02-21T18:00:00.000-08:00

I’m going through a blogging lull right now. I haven’t even kept up with the usual blogs I read. I guess it’s natural. Surely, someone has blogged about the phases of blogging, no?

I was excited about it for a while. It felt good to have a creative outlet, something of a hobby that was just for me. I felt a little rush every time someone would leave me a post. Then I’d get a little sad when days would go by with no love. Then I’d give myself a pep talk, reassure myself that I’m likeable and that I should be doing this blog because I enjoy writing/journaling, etc.

Lately I just haven’t been all that interested in blogging.

Maybe it’s because I have developed a new interest in my life. I posted at the end of 2006 some new year’s resolutions . I’m proud to report that I’ve been very successful.

One of the resolutions - a pretty major healthy lifestyle change - I drag my butt out of bed in the morning to exercise a few days a week. I actually look forward to it and like I said previously, I am NOT a morning person.

I never imagined myself a runner and I think I’ve always questioned my physical ability to do it without injuring myself. So I eased myself into it. Very gradually. A few minutes of running, a few minutes of walking, repeat, repeat, repeat.

I’m now running 2 miles straight. I plan to gradually increase the distance so that I can run 3 miles easily.

I’d like to do a 5K in April or May. My big goal is a 10K in August. And sometime after that, a ½ marathon.

So, that’s a little bit where my head is right now. I’m feeling really good about the progress I’ve made. I’m excited about my race goals. Life is good.

Tangent: Another thing that pops into my head lately - what the hell is going on with Britney?

Back from the City of Sin

2007-02-14T12:30:00.000-08:00

Well, my little blog, I’ve neglected you. I still feel like I’m trying to dig myself out from some huge heap of “catch up” since returning from trip last week.

I only realized last night that I had neglected to buy anything for the kids or hubby for Valentine’s Day. Even forgot to get the list of the kids’ classmates for the cheap-o Valentine’s Day cards that I had planned to give out. So, no Valentines were given to their classmates. I’m trying to assuage my guilt by reasoning that the cards would probably have gone completely unappreciated by said classmates and isn't it really for the parents enjoyment at this age anyway? Then my mom caused the guilt to resurface by calling me today and asking if the kids had delivered their Valentines

Vegas was fun. Vegas was tiring. Vegas was expensive ($6 for a bottle of Heineken? or was it $8?). Vegas smells like an ash tray (why is that non-smoking hotel rooms can be permeated with the smell of smoke?).

Hubby did come and join me on the third night I was there. We walked through many hotels on the strip (Bellagio is my favorite, Caesar’s is his, but the Wynn may be the nicest of all). Sipped on an overpriced margarita on the patio of a bar in the Bellagio and watched the water/light/music show. Spent a couple of nights being cheaply entertained at the dueling piano bar at Harrah’s. Caught a show (La Reve at the Wynn). Caught a stomach bug from the only restaurant we could find open at 3 am. I thought the whole city was open 24/7, but apparently during weeknights places actually shut down at 2 am.

One “celebrity” was spotted…big head…full head of white hair. Any guesses? That would be Newt Gingrich. Smaller stature than how I envisioned him.

And if you were wondering, I did not have any cigarettes. I believe I’ve now been smoke free for 45 days. I’d like to think that since I survived Vegas without smoking, I can really stay smoke-free forever.

Oh, and the professional reason I was there was productive and educational.

I was happy to return home and see my kids. I think they were happy to see me, although they seemed more excited to see their dad. Perhaps they had given up on me returning.

Travels Away From Home

2007-01-30T13:47:00.000-08:00

This morning on the way to work I was telling my son that I was going to fly in an airplane on Sunday. He got a concerned look on his face and said “I don’t want you to jump.” He knows that I once jumped out of an airplane, he has seen the video, and he doesn’t want me to do it again. No worries there, my son. I have no idea who that person was who jumped out of that plane!

Next week, I will be going to a training class in Las Vegas. I’ve been looking forward to this trip. It’s been nearly five years since I’ve been to the City of Sin and undoubtedly there have been changes that will be fun to see. For heaven’s sake, the hot spot, Britney/Paris-frequented Pure is now there!

You really can’t visit Vegas and not have a good time. I don’t even like gambling. But I do enjoy walking through the massive themed hotels and shops. I enjoy people watching. I enjoy the variety of food. And I enjoy the feeling of rebelliousness of walking down the street with a drink in hand at 3 am or 3 pm.

So, I know I will have some fun. And the dear hubby is flying out to join me the last two nights I will be there. That will ensure some good (long-awaited) times for the hubster and I.

I’ll be gone five nights. This is the longest I’ve ever been away from my children. Vegas helps compensate for that, but still. As I was talking to my son about it this morning, I got a tinge of sadness. And when he said “I don’t want you to go,” I realized my little mama’s boy is probably going to miss me. E will undoubtedly miss me in her own way too – her frequent calls for “mama” will be hushed with “mama is not here, daddy’s here to play with you.” But it just seems a little more heart wrenching to think of leaving my son since he's older, more cognizant of what is going on, and can express what he’s feeling. Perhaps I'll win big at the slots and that will make up for my time away! :-)

OK, I'm done fretting about that, now I must fret about what to wear. My daytime business wear is far too conservative and stuffy and my non-business wear attire is far too Pacific-Northwest-outdoorsey-no style-won't-get-into-Pure. Hmmm...must do some shopping.

thirtysomething

2007-01-29T08:00:00.000-08:00

Remember that TV show? I used to watch it. Doing a quick internet search, I learned it was on from 1987-1991. This would have meant I was in junior high/high school during its run. Given the fact that I was a teenager at the time I watched the show and couldn't possibly relate to the struggles of the characters, I have no idea why I watched it.

I don’t remember a lot about the show. I recall something about that Timothy Busfield’s character having an affair. And I remember thinking Ken Olin was handsome. I also remember thinking the characters were all so…old and grown up.

I don’t know what I’m more unsettled by: the fact that I thought being 30-something was old or the realization that I could now be one of those characters?

I should watch one of those episodes again and see how much of it I can relate to now. Were they all just a bunch of self-indulgent, whining yuppies? Or were they realistically depicting some of the same struggles we all go through about growing up, dealing with spouses, children, family, work, etc?

Now I have a third thing I’m unsettled by: I want to watch a rerun of thirtysomething?

Perhaps my trip to Vegas next week will help me tap into my inner wild child. It's there, isn't it? If it never was there, is there any hope? :-)

To Delay or Not to Delay

2007-01-26T12:15:00.000-08:00

Kindergarten, that is.

My son will turn 5 in June 2008. That makes him eligible to start kindergarten in the Fall of 2008 (in Oregon students must be 5 years old by September 1st). So, we register him for kindergarten, right?

Apparently, not so fast. There is a trend to hold back younger kids, in particular boys with summer birthdays. Why you may ask? Apparently:

Some educators, like James Uphoff, Ed.D., the author of Real Facts From Real Schools (Modern Learning Press), believe that in many instances children can use an extra year to mature socially, physically, emotionally, and cognitively. "It's the gift of time," he says. This especially applies to boys with "late" birthdays. Fred Brown, former president of the National Association of Elementary School Principals, adds, "Generally, there is a developmental delay of at least six months between boys and girls, so a boy with a late birthday may be at even more of a disadvantage."

Maybe I’m being insensitive to my child’s well being here, but this whole notion of delaying kindergarten really irritates me.

Do not get me wrong, I want what is best for my children. I want my children to succeed in school and in life. I want them to have every opportunity available to them to learn and excel. Heck, we are contemplating moving into another school district because I am not comfortable that the schools in our current school district will give them the opportunities they deserve.

And I am not saying there may not be good reasons to delay the start of school.

But it rubs me the wrong way that we need to worry whether our five year old is competitive enough. It rubs me the wrong way that this trend may not really be about whether a child is ready for kindergarten, but more about whether delaying may give the child a significant advantage over his or her classmates.

Surely there is a fall out from this trend? Apparently there were some articles in the NYT which discussed the backlash and problems delaying kids may cause. I haven't been able to get my hands on those articles yet.

Some of the issues I see with delaying are:

* How will this impact the kids that meet the cut off date - are they now going to be "disadvantaged" because so many of classmates are older/more mature?

* Cut off dates typically create no more than a 12 month age gap between any student in the same grade. If the trend is to delay, then the age gap could be much greater.

* Are the older kids going to get bored with the pace of the class?

* Oh, and the small microcosm issue of what it will do to my husband and our marriage if we delay kindergarten. He has been looking forward to the elimination of daycare costs since our son was born, so all he can see is the dollar signs adding up if we contemplate delaying. I feel some of his pain because I really want us to move and we cannot afford a bigger house payment with our current income/expenses.

But in the end, I want to made an educated decision and do what is right for our child. And for me, the ultimate question is: "is he ready socially, physically, emotionally, and cognitively for kindergarten?" We won't know the answer to that for a while.

Speechless

2007-01-22T12:30:00.000-08:00

The scene: Yesterday morning, 3.5 year old son had just woken up.

Son: "My penis feels kind of funny"

Me: "Oh, really?"

Son proceeds to pull underwear down to examine penis.

Son: "It's kind of long."

Me: "OK, let's go out in the living room."

Immunity Challenge - I'll Pass

2007-01-17T13:13:00.000-08:00

“Daycare is good for children’s immunity, by the time they’re in elementary school, they’ll get sick less often than those kids who never attended daycare.”

Have you heard this? I find ZERO comfort in that load of crap.

I would rather it be my 6 year old that is sick than my 1 year old. My 6 year old could probably tell me if their throat hurts or their ears or their tummy. My 6 year old might be able to warn me that they feel like throwing up. I probably wouldn’t worry that my 6 year old would cough so hard in their sleep that they’d throw up and suffocate in their own vomit. My 6 year old would not have to be restrained to get a chest x-ray.

My 16 month old has her 3rd ear infection in ONE MONTH and pneumonia. I’m a little pissed off. But there's nothing I can do about it other than spew some frustration here.

Serenity now.

P.S. Got the shoes. They're frickin' adorable. Although, they do have a funky white sole with yellow patches.

Cannot. Resist. Cuteness.

2007-01-10T17:01:00.000-08:00

I have very, very little self control when it comes to buying shoes for E. Here is what she should be getting in the mail shortly (from www.puddlejumpershoes.com). They're chocolate brown w/pink polka dots.

I think she has more shoes than me. And they're all definitely a lot cuter than mine.

Do Overs

2007-01-08T12:40:00.000-08:00

I don't have many regrets. I try to make choices that I think are the right ones or ones that I think I can live with. If they were the wrong choices, I hope that I learn from them. And some choices set certain things in motion that if I had the opportunity to do them over, my life may not be the same. For instance, if I had gone away to college instead of attending the local city college, I probably would not have ran into the man who is now my husband, we would not our beautiful children.

However, there is one thing I really wish I could do over. One day actually.

My relationship with my father collapsed after he and my mom separated. When I arrived home from my first day of the seventh grade, he was waiting for me with his bags packed. He had to wait for me to get home so that I could take over caring for my brothers (who were 2 and 3 at the time). It was not completely unexpected that he would leave and to be honest, I knew it was for the best. I remember very intense fighting between my parents when I was young, which I hated. I hated it so much that I sometimes wished they would divorce.

Although their separation did not come as a surprise, what did come as a surprise was that his action of driving away that day also represented him driving away from his role as a father. I spent many years, well into adulthood mourning the loss of that relationship, feeling disappointed in him, angry at him, sad.

When I saw fathers walking their daughters down the aisle, I cried. Not just because it’s a moment of significance – a father giving away his daughter – but because I knew that would never be me. I was envious. Father/daughter songs or Father’s Day cards, worked they same way – they only highlighted what I didn’t have with my own father.

And yet, I also felt a lot of guilt. What I haven’t mentioned about my father is that he had numerous health issues. Multiple Sclerosis slowly robbed him of his ability to walk. At first he used canes, then a walker, and then sometime when I was in high school, a wheelchair. And whether it was the M.S. or the drugs for the M.S., something about his mental faculties changed. He would ask me the same questions every single time we talked. I can’t think of a better word for it, but our conversations were very “simple.” Something was missing. He also developed diabetes, probably brought on by the weight he gained from his confinement to a wheelchair and a love of food that never left him. A few years ago, he cut his foot badly. It became infected and because of complications from the diabetes, his leg below his knee was amputated. After that, he moved into an adult foster care home. He was 52.

His physical and mental state weighed on me. The fact that he lived alone, without a partner weighed on me. The fact that he was in an adult foster care home weighed on me. The fact that he was a whole generation younger than the other residents in the foster care home weighed on me. If I was a “good daughter” I would try to keep up communications more. I would go visit more often, after all he lived probably not more than 2 miles from home. I was full of so many conflicting emotions – the more I reached out to him, the more I was disappointed that he could not give me what I wanted. It was a vicious cycle, the guilt would creep back in – if I was a good daughter, I would suck it up and visit with him more often, if only to bring him some joy, in a life that by all appearances carried very little.

Eventually, I developed some semblance of peace with the relationship. I resolved to do what I needed to do to not feel guilty. I visited him on his birthday and on Christmas. Sometimes on Father’s Day. Occasional phone calls.

In mid-February 2005, I learned from my mother that dad had been in the hospital. He had been throwing up blood and his stomach was distended. I cannot recall the details of what the doctors did, but they attempted to find the source of internal bleeding and did some kind of “fix.” He was released and back home on Saturday, February 19th.

Monday, February 21st was Presidents Day, which meant I had the day off. I had planned to take my son (who was 1-1/2 years old at the time) over to visit his Grandpa. My dad hadn’t seen his grandson for a few months and the last time I had visited with him was Christmas Eve. Monday rolled around and I got lazy. A visit seemed like a hassle, so I didn’t go. I seem to recall even taking my son to the Target that was right across the street from the foster care home my dad was living in.

On Wednesday, February 23rd, the phone rang in the middle of the night. I vaguely recall hearing it ring, but I did not get up to answer it. When I awoke, I checked the caller ID and saw that the hospital had called. I checked the voicemail. The first message was from my dad. He left the message on Saturday, the day he was released from the hospital. He was checking on me and had heard from my mother that I was pregnant and wanted to find out if that was true. His last words were “love you.” By some strange twist of fate, I saved the message.

The next message was left at 3 am (the call we did not pick up) from a doctor at a hospital asking me to call back to talk about my father. This made me nervous. I called back, a nurse or receptionist answered and when I asked about my dad, the receptionist told me that my father had been released. I thought it was peculiar, but I was relieved. I tried to phone my dad on his cell phone, but I got no response. A short time later, the phone rang. It was the hospital and a woman was asking me about arrangements concerning the “death of my father…” Time froze at that moment. I became hysterical and could no longer continue the conversation. Hubby had to take the phone from me and take down the information.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve wished I could go back to Monday, February 21st and visited my dad. I wish I hadn’t been so selfish. I wish he could have heard directly from me, that yes, I was pregnant again and that he was going to have another grandchild. I wish I could have let him see his grandson one last time. I wish I could have talked to him one last time, to see how he was doing after getting out of the hospital. Maybe if I had gone I could have asked him to call me if he had to go to the hospital again. Maybe then I could have been there for him when he died and he wouldn’t have had to die alone.

I still have my dad's message on my voicemail. Periodically, when I listen to my voicemail, I get a warning that this message has been saved for more than 100 days. Before I can re-save it, it plays the message in its entirety. I listen. I hurt all over. And then I hit "save."

Coffee Talk

2007-01-04T12:39:00.000-08:00

Co-worker: So you must be looking forward to the long weekend to spend time with those kids! Bet they can't wait for you to get home.

Me: They're actually downstairs in daycare.

Co-worker: Oh, they are?

Me: Yes, if you see me here, that means the kids are downstairs.

Co-worker: How do they handle that? Being dropped off? Isn’t it hard?

Me: They’re fine. They’ve gone through some phases of of separation anxiety where they didn’t like being dropped off, but they’re fine now.

Co-worker: Oh really? I could never do it. My daughter just cried and cried when I left her with my mother-in-law. I couldn’t take it.

Me: Uh huh.

Co-worker: It started to make problems between my mother-in-law and myself because I would get so jealous. I didn’t want her to see her first steps, hear her first word, get to experience all the "firsts."

Me: Uh huh [with a fake empathetic nod].

Co-worker: So after three months, my husband told me I should just quit.

Me: That's nice [if I only I was also so blessed to have an alcoholic husband who made me iron his underwear].

I've had similar conversations with this co-worker. When I was younger, I was more easily offended, but now I just chuckle inside with the knowledge that I am far superior to this insecure woman more than double my age. Did I just say that? :-) But seriously, it is interesting to see passive-aggressiveness in action (I am guilty of it myself at times). It's fun to think of the things they really want to say, but are just too polite (ha!) to actually say it.

The Journey That is About to Begin

2006-12-29T12:12:00.000-08:00

I've decided to start a separate blog, Journey to Healthy Mama, that will chronicle my progress with my resolutions/lifestyle changes. It is my hope that it will help keep me honest and keep me motivated. The blog is bound to contain some really mundane, boring information (i.e., miles ran, weight lossed, healthy recipes) that only those on a similar journey can appreciate, so no worries if you have no interest in visiting it.

Cha-Cha-Changes

2006-12-27T18:30:00.000-08:00

I make resolutions every New Year. I know many are cynical about the whole idea of making New Year’s resolutions. “Most people quit their resolutions by February.” “If you really wanted to make changes, you wouldn’t have to wait for the New Year to do it.”

Yeah. Yeah.

The New Year is but a few days a way, so what’s wrong with setting January 1st as a new beginning? It’s not like I’ve been waiting all year to make these changes.

Still, I enjoy making resolutions at this time of year. I do it for a number of reasons. Probably first and foremost is that I like setting goals. I like striving for something, challenging myself, and succeeding. I also like taking steps to make positive changes in my life. Whether it’s physical, mental, or emotional – I like trying to make my life better.

I have two resolutions for the New Year:

1. Quit smoking
2. Exercise a minimum of 3 times/week

The Reason Behind the Madness

I’ve already had one naysayer balk at the idea of trying to tackle two big goals at the same time. Well, I’ll tell you why they must be done together. When I smoke, I do not want to exercise. Whether it’s logical or not, to me, smoking is the complete antithesis of exercise. I believe that exercising will actually help me not smoke. I’m not sure if I’m alone in this, but when I exercise, I actually crave things that are healthy for me. After a good workout, I don’t crave a greasy hamburger or fries, I often crave fruit or yogurt or something similarly healthy. When I exercise, I feel my lungs working, in a good way. I think I will be less likely to want to smoke if I start an exercise program (especially the one I plan to start, more below). So, I feel that I must do both at the same time to better my chances for succeeding at either of them.

It’s really a no-brainer why I need to quit smoking. There are millions of reasons I should do it for myself. But perhaps even more importantly, I have children and I have a responsibility to set a good example for them. I’d prefer to actually practice what I preach rather than the whole “do as I say, not as I do.”

I would be mortified if my son saw me smoke. I don’t want to “sneak” outside to have a smoke anymore and hope he doesn’t see me doing it. You can only hide something like that from your children for so long. And how about this stat – kids are twice as likely to become regular smokers by the time they’re 18 if one or both parents smoke. My mom has smoked for the majority of her life. All three of her children smoke. I would like to reduce the chances of my kids ever picking up a cigarette.

The reason I need to exercise is pretty much a no-brainer as well. I haven’t incorporated exercise in my life on any kind of a consistent basis since I was pregnant with G. That was almost four years ago. Four years of being out of shape, soft, and unfit. I want to be healthy. I could stand to lose a little weight. I would love to get rid of some of the chub around the middle (however, I am the lovely shape of an “apple” and no amount of exercise or dieting is going to change that, but perhaps I could be a slimmer apple). I wouldn’t mind challenging my body to accomplish something it’s never done before.

And then there is my daughter. I feel that in the area of body image, the responsibility to set an example for our daughter falls on me. My son has his dad as an example of a man who has a fairly healthy body image (other than the periodic “I’m getting fat” comments, which he sickingly can remedy with just a few days of eating healthy and exercising, GRRRR) and who makes exercise a priority. I’m glad our son has such a good example. But, I need to step up for our daughter. I want to lead by example and show her that exercise should be a part of one’s life.

The Plan of Attack

Smoking: It must be a clean break. No “just one while I have a drink.” No “just one while I visit my mom.” I’ve quit a handful of (or more) times before. In some ways, it wasn’t that hard to quit. I’ve gone a week or two numerous times – which one would think would get you past that critical craving point. I’ve gone a whole year, with each of the pregnancies and birth. Clearly, I was past any critical craving point then.

What caused me to relapse every time was thinking I could “have just one.” Usually, the trigger was alcohol. I’d have a beer or a glass of wine and my self-control and willpower flew out the window. I know now that I can’t “have just one” – one turns into another and then another. Pretty soon I rationalize that I can have a couple on the weekend, a couple on Friday night, then a couple after a stressful day of work, etc.

What I need to do is prevent myself from getting into the situation where I foolishly think I can “have just one,” especially the first few weeks. I will need to limit alcohol. Avoid smoky bars. Find other ways to relax or grab a few minutes of “me time.” Suggestions appreciated!

Exercise: My plan is to ease myself in and just set an initial goal of 30 minutes of exercise three times a week. I’m going to do this in the morning, before getting ready for work. I am NOT a morning person and I know it’s going to be a struggle to sacrifice sleep so that I can exercise. But if I don’t do it in the morning, I’m not sure I’ll do it at all. Hopefully it will wake my arse up and be a nice start for the day.

I’ve been reading “The Courage to Start” by John Bingham. The author was in his forties, overweight and either a smoker or former one when he finally decided to start running. He has since run over 25 marathons. He’s down to earth, not what you would consider a traditional "athlete," and describes his running style as that of a penguin, because of his short legs and slow speed. When reading it, you naturally think, if he could do it, I could do it. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I want to be a runner because well, I’ve never thought I was good at it or that I looked the part and frankly, part of me wonders if I can really do it. But that’s why this book is so fitting for me because it’s helping me to see that there is no good reason I can’t do it.

And when the going gets tough, and I forget why I’m doing this or I try to talk myself out of it, I’m going to whip this quote out to remind myself of the reason why I need to not let myself fail:

“Be the person you want your children to become.”

All I Want for Christmas...

2006-12-20T16:40:00.000-08:00

I am not a praying person, but if I was, I would be praying right now.

I would be praying in the hopes that that prayer would be answered and our upcoming holiday trip to Sunriver would be enjoyable and fun.

I would be praying in the hopes that that prayer would be answered and I would not have to hear that this trip to Sunriver is going to be a big waste of money (if said prayer is not answered).

I would be praying in the hopes that that prayer would be answered and I would no longer have to hear that he thinks he is getting the flu and that if history proves anything, he will have it for two weeks, and this is only day 5, and it only gets worse toward the end.

Please make hubby feel better before we leave for our trip on Friday.

Why I Almost Have Something in Common with Paris Hilton

2006-12-15T21:14:00.000-08:00

So what do Dido, Annie Lennox, Jimmy Buffet, Sissy Spacek, Barbara Mandrell, Sir Isaac Newton, Paris Hilton's Great-grandfather, my friend Kara's husband, and myself have in common? If you guessed that we share our birthdays with Jesus, then you are right!

I still get carded quite frequently. Now that I'm about to turn 32(!!!), I find it flattering (of course, when it doesn't happen, I question whether I'm actually starting to look old, I've always looked younger than my age, and it's only recently that I've come to appreciate that). But it almost never fails that when the person looks at my ID, they make some remark about my birthday: "Ah, a Christmas baby!?!?" or "Oh, that must suck" or "You must get gypped on the presents" or they tell me about someone they know who has the same birthday and hates it.

While growing up, I never really minded the fact that my birthday was on Christmas. My parents always kept my birthday celebration and presents separate from Christmas. The tradition has always been that Christmas evening is all about my birthday. My family never gave me birthday gifts that doubled as Christmas presents. So when I was growing up,when people told me "it must suck to have a Christmas birthday" - I usually told them it didn't. Heck, I got double the presents of everyone else!

There were some issues with the birth date. It wasn't really practical to invite friends over for a party on the 25th. So parties could never occur on my actual birthday. And turning 21 was a bit anticlimactic - turning 21 is one of those milestones that should be celebrated on the actual birth date. But with a Christmas birthday you have to deal with the awkwardness of the decision to go bar hopping on Jesus' birthday, not to mention trying to find a place that is actually open. And your friends are likely spending time with their families, so it's not that easy to round up a posse to celebrate with. 30 was a recent milestone birthday. Whereas I threw a surprise birthday party for my husband's 30th birthday (a nice April birth date) - I got no such return celebration for mine. We'll just pretend he couldn't round the troupes up because of the holidays.

And a note about the presents. Although you do get a boatload of presents when combined with your Christmas presents, those presents have to last you all year long - because you ain't get nothing for a whole year.

Now you might have caught on that I said "While growing up..." I never had a problem with my birthday. That might have tipped you off that somewhere along the line I developed a problem with my birthday. I feel a bit petty for saying this, but what sucks about having a Christmas birthday is that eventually, as you get older, people tend to forget about it. I must give my family credit though, they would never forget (nor would I let them). But my friends? They sometimes forget or don't acknowledge. Whereas I feel perfectly comfortable whining to my family about my birthday wants and needs, I just can't do that with my friends.

In reality, maybe the problem is less a function of having a Christmas birthday than just the nature of adult hood - our lives get busy and some of us come to view birthdays as less important as we get older (although, personally I do not understand why they should ever lose their "specialness"). Perhaps we settle in to thinking that birthdays are special novelties reserved just for children.

So now that I've just made myself out to be petty and immature "because no one remembers my birthday, waaaahhhh" - I will remind myself what my mother has told me frequently over the years:

"You were the best Christmas present I ever received."

And now that I'm a mom, I know that she wasn't just saying that.

Slowing Down

2006-12-11T18:00:00.000-08:00

This weekend we did our annual, fancy-pants, holiday dinner with another couple. We spent five hours at a restaurant! How do you do that? Well, I’m ashamed to say multiple bottles of wine contributed. Good food and conversation was had as well.

But I can’t stop thinking about one thing we discussed. This couple also has two children, both of whom are in elementary school. Both parents work. Mom is heavily involved in the kids’ school and extracurricular activities – PTA, girl scouts, etc. I’m often in awe of how she can keep up the stamina for all that she is engaged with 7 days a week. I do not know if I would be able to do it. I’ve alluded to or explicitly written about the fact that I am, sometimes, lazy. She, most definitely, is not.

Anyway, her hubby was getting a little mushy talking about the kids and the wife mentioned that she never gets “mushy” or “sappy” about the kids. I asked her about that and she said she’s always so caught up in what needs to get done, there’s no time to get mushy.

That made me sad. For her, for other moms like her.

Not to say I haven’t felt that way at times. That feeling of being in survival mode, just trying to check items off your to do list, barely having time to catch your breath until your head hits the pillow. And it’s not to say that I’m not going to feel like that when the kids start school, get involved in extracurricular activities, and I have to juggle conflicting schedules.

I think my mom was like my friend, at least while I was growing up (she has relaxed tremendously over the last few years). Constantly cleaning, constantly moving, barely able to sit through a movie without getting up to do “something.”

I don’t want to be that mom/person. I don’t want to just go through the motions, full speed ahead, and have the years pass me by. I’d like to actually enjoy THIS stage of my life and my children’s lives and when we hit the next stage, I’d like to enjoy THAT stage of my life and their lives.

I think that's why I let myself be lazy, why I put things off. I often let the house go more than I should. I scurry when company is coming over so that I can make the house look more presentable (sorry FlyLady!). We go on our silly camping trips when the weather is decent and get away from the to do list, which allows us to relax and engage freely with the kids. Sure, my to do list is freakishly long and never gets done. Sometimes it irritates me, sometimes it irritates my husband. But, maybe it's a fair trade.

Peevy

2006-12-08T20:45:00.000-08:00

Just so you don't think this sappy, glass-half-full gal doesn't ever get irritated with anything, I've compiled a short list of things that make me peevy (not sure if that is a word, but just go with me).

1. When thigh highs quit. For the uninitiated, that's when the elastic at the top of the thigh highs gives out and the damn stocking slowly creeps down your leg. Walking exacerbates this. So the more you walk, the faster the stocking will march on toward your ankle. Since this is #1 on my list, you may have guessed this happened to me recently. It happened a couple of weeks ago while I was walking downtown. I had to make an emergency purchase of stockings at the mall because when I tried to discretely pull up the elastic cuff behind some baby clothes in Baby Gap, I put a gigantic hole in the top of the stocking, which triggered, yes, you know…a gigantic run. I thought the pair I put on today was the “new” pair, but something is awry because I’ve spent much of the day hiking the thing up and trying to avoid walking anywhere.

2. The way hubby brushes his teeth. He froths. And, for some reason he cannot contain the froth in his mouth. He stands over the sink with froth continuously dripping out of his mouth. The problems with his method of tooth brushing are many. First, he hogs the sink for the entirety of the tooth brushing because of the aforementioned continuous froth drip. So one must avoid simultaneous tooth brushing unless you’re willing to risk getting drooled on as you periodically ask to use the sink to spit. Second, with all the froth and rapid open mouth tooth brushing so close to the sink and mirror, there is much splattering of toothpaste on the mirror. Third, at the end of the session, he has frothy toothpaste all over his chin. Does he use water to wipe it off? No, he uses the dark blue bath towel hanging on the towel rack. Personally, I don’t like reaching for a bath towel after a shower which has toothpaste crust all over it. Nor do I think guests appreciate viewing toothpaste crust on said towel.

3. When hubby suggests that we build a house on a piece of land next to his mother’s house. Picture this: a rectangular piece of land – a piece of crap house on one end (MIL is currently living in and we used to live in at one time) and an even crappier piece of crap house on the other end (rented out by pure trash). In the middle, land. Hubby with his beer goggles or rose-colored glasses on sees: land, land his mother would gladly give us, that we could build our dream home on! Isn’t that everyone’s dream? How could I be so stubborn about this? Who wouldn’t jump at the chance to build your dream home next to houses that arguably should be torn down? To live right next door to your MIL? To live on a lot with an uneven, gravel drive way (which gets super muddy in the winter)? To live in a school district (that we went to) and agree we don’t want our kids to go to? Sounds like a great idea to me. Have no idea why I'm stubborn at this one.

4. When I’m at the grocery store waiting in line with a full cart of groceries and the person behind me with only a few items puts subtle pressure on me to let them go first. If I’m in a good mood, I may let you go. But if I have a cart full of groceries, I’m probably not in the best mood. I probably want to hurry up and get out of the store (particularly if I have one of the kids in the cart with me). If I let you go, where do I draw the line when the next person with just a few items comes up behind me? There are express lanes meant just for your type.

5. Calling to cancel a service. Be it an internet service provider (hmmm…AOL) or some service protection plan that you were duped into signing up for the “free trial,” I find it very frustrating when it comes time to cancel because the job of the person on the other line is to be as pushy as possible. I wish I wasn't so nice and could be ruder, but usually I am my polite self and just continuously repeat “no, I’m not interested.” Now to avoid that level of confrontation, I say “no, I’m not interested” to those sometimes attractive free trials which claim to be easy to cancel so that I can avoid the whole cancellation process.

For those interested in learning more about what peeves others off: http://www.peevepile.com/

Is It Worth It?

2006-12-05T00:01:00.000-08:00

I don’t know if I should admit this, but occasionally I have imaginary conversations with people. I don't know how common that quirk is since I've never mentioned it to anyone. I'll stop right there and not embarrass myself about the breadth of the people I've had such conversations with. Except one. Repeatedly, I’ve had a certain imaginary conversation with my best friend. She recently got married. She does not have any children and she's not sure if she ever wants to. Although since she got married, she has admitted the wheels are turning in her head. In my imaginary conversation we are talking about the realities of having children. She wants to know what it’s “really” like and what the biggest impact on your life is. And so, I lay it out there for her. Prefacing it by saying, I can only speak for my experience, other people may have a different perspective.

THE DIRT

Challenge #1: The beginning is tough and exhausting and demanding and all-encompassing

The first few weeks after the birth, it’s easy to be completely absorbed with your children. 24/7. They are a bundle of needs and you spend most of your time trying to figure out what the need is and how you can meet it. Your days become an endless cycle of feeding, changing diapers, getting baby to sleep, getting baby to stay asleep, trying to squeeze some sleep in yourself all while in a haze of sleep deprivation and hormone adjustment.

Did you know that babies eat every 2-3 hours AROUND THE CLOCK? Did you know that “every 2-3 hours” means every 2-3 hours from the beginning of one feeding to the beginning of the next? That does not mean you get a 2-3 hour break between the feedings. You may have a leisurely eater who likes to take his sweet time or more likely, a sleepy baby who falls asleep in the middle of the feeding and you must spend time and energy keeping baby up to finish eating. So you might get an hour break, maybe even 2 between feedings.

Hopefully the little one is spending time sleeping during these breaks and this is when you are supposed to sleep – “sleep when baby sleeps.” Which can be difficult if you actually want to spend a little time doing something else – oh, like housework, cooking, shopping, showering. It is no joke that it is a good day if you get a shower in. But sleep is so very precious to a new mama and you will likely fantasize about sleep, like you used to fantasize about George Clooney. Like I said, those feedings every 2-3 hours occur AROUND the clock. So, your nighttime sleep is now broken up into multiple naps. If you’re lucky, you might get a 2 or 3 hour stretch of sleep at a time. Sometimes, you won’t be so lucky. Sometimes the little buggers actually like to be awake at nighttime. Oh and how can I forget? There is a chance your babe could be colicky or experience something the "experts" call the "witching hour." See, some babes have periods of the day, usually in the evening, in which they are inconsolable. You can tell your sweet angel is exhausted beyond belief, but something possesses them to fight sleep off as hard as they can. I've never understood why they torture themselves (and their poor parents). You've heard of people putting their kids in the car seat and taking them for a drive? Or putting them in the car seat and setting it on top of the drier? This is why. Parents can become desperate and will try ANYTHING to quiet the baby and get some precious sleep.

On top of dealing with exhaustion, frequent feedings, constant rocking, and hormones, you will notice that suddenly every one in the world has an opinion on how you should parent your child. Whether it's how you're feeding your baby, how you're dressing your baby, how you're putting baby to sleep, someone, somewhere will want to share with you the "right" way you should be doing it. A quick glance at the parenting section of any bookstore gives you some idea of the realm of opinions out there. It’s easy to feel insecure with your choices in the beginning because it’s all so new and you feel you have so much to learn.

The good news: Eventually, baby will sleep for longer stretches and you’ll find yourself saying to someone with glee “I slept for 4 hours in a row last night, it was heaven!” Oh, and colic is temporary, it will pass. As for actually "sleeping through the night," well it could happen after only a couple of months (if you are lucky), but it often takes longer. My son was well past a year before he blessed us with that milestone. However, my daughter was kinder to us. As for the busy bodies, as time goes on, you'll feel a lot more confident with your choices and those people won't bother you so much.

Challenge #2: Going back to work is hard

Again, I must preface this by saying this was MY experience. Not every woman has a hard time going back to work. Some women actually look forward to it. I was not one of those women. Before having kids, I never contemplated how attached I would feel to my baby when maternity leave was about to end. I had always been career minded and never thought for a second I'd want to stay home with my kids. That all went out the window after having my son. But If you think about it, by the time you go back to work, baby has either resided inside your body or on top of it for a good part of a year or more. Then all of the sudden you are expected to cut ties and be away from your baby for 8 hours or more a day. No wonder it's an adjustment.

Dropping my son off at daycare for the first time was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I didn’t just tear up, I bawled. And I bawled all the way into the office, which was just 10 floors up. Luckily I have a door that I could shut. I holed myself inside my office for about two hours to gain my composure.

The good news: The first day was the hardest and the only day I cried, it really did get better with time.

Challenge #3: Your marriage can suffer

This has been the biggest impact for me about having kids. Kids require attention ALL DAY LONG, sometimes ALL NIGHT LONG. It’s very, very easy to get completely absorbed with your children – either simply because they require so much attention or because you are so in love with them. Your “break” comes either when the child falls asleep or some nice person gives you a break or you go ballistic and demand a break. Sometimes when you get a break, you don’t think “ah, now I can spend some cuddle time with my hubby.” More likely you think “ah, now I can sleep” or “ah, now I can shower” or “ah, now I can read People magazine.” It’s very, very easy to let your relationship slide. You have to actually make time for each other; it doesn’t just fall in your lap. Gone are the days when you could spend a lazy weekend morning lying in bed. Gone are the days you two could have a spontaneous date night. Gone are the days you'd stay up "talking" into the wee hours of the morning. And if you allow your darlings to sleep in bed with you, let's just say you need to get creative with "couple time."

The good news: After seeing your husband evolve into a father, you may very well develop a new appreciation for him. He may even appear more attractive! I still get weak when I see a father holding his baby. You may also feel closer to each other and feel like more of a "family." Although your spontaneous couple time may be no longer, you may actually feel your marriage is stronger.

THE FLIPSIDE

If you know me at all, you know I can't just leave it at that. Sure, I used to get a lot more sleep, I used to get a lot more alone time with my husband, I used to get a lot more alone time, period. But I would never go back. There are times when being a parent can be frustrating and exhausting and sometimes not very fun and sometimes you want to walk away. That's what friends, a massage, or a glass of wine are for.

Why does every parent tell you “it’s worth it”?

Because of this:

(my boss claims this picture, which he received in a Christmas card is the reason he now has a grandson)

And this:

Because you have no idea, absolutely no idea, how much you will love this little person. It does not compare to anything else you have ever felt. It is crushing. It is the very reason for the term “unconditional love.” You fall in love with this little blob of needs, who has no real ability to show you love or appreciation back. And yet, you love. Fiercely. With all of your heart. I remember reading a quote describing motherhood as "your heart walking around outside of your body." Exactly. And when they do learn to show you love? You will fall into a little puddle and understand why so many of us want to eat our children.

Because they grow and each little development and milestone - the first smile, first giggle, first time they crawl, first time they stand, walk, say “ma ma” – seems like the most amazing, unique thing in the whole world.

Because they develop a personality. And you see a little person, separate from you. With their own opinions. You learn they have their own likes and dislikes. You learn what makes their eyes twinkle and what makes them scared. You learn what puts a big smile on their face and what makes them sad. You learn what makes them laugh and what makes them angry.

Because you get to see the world through the eyes of a child. Again. They make you remember why you used to get excited for Christmas and your birthday. They make you remember that it was fun to play with legos and lincoln logs and play dough and Mr. Potato Head. They make you remember why you wanted to go to Disneyland or play in a fort.

If you think I'm trying to put a gloss on the whole thing so I can recruit you into the Parenting club, a la Dana Carvey's standup, I'd be happy to give you more juicy details. We can talk about stretch marks, c-sections, breastfeeding, tantrums, anything you desire! This is just my generalized perspective on the challenges and rewards of being a parent. And I've only been doing it a short time, I don't pretend to think big challenges don't lie ahead.

But I doubt I will ever change my mind. It is worth it.

Holiday Meme

2006-11-30T10:26:00.000-08:00

I like memes. I've only recently come to the realization (while writing 101 things about me, me, me, me) it's probably because I'm self-absorbed. I used to just think memes were fun and a way to acquire really useless knowledge about your friends. Anyway...feel free to take the challenge of completing this fluffy meme.

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? It’s a tie.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just place them under the tree? Neither, Santa leaves unwrapped presents by the fireplace.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? Colored.

4. Do you hang mistletoe? No.

5. When do you put your decorations up? Most, the day after Thanksgiving; but some trickle in after that.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Green bean casserole.

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child: Laying in bed thinking I heard Santa outside.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? From a friend at school – maybe 3rd, 4th grade.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? We open all gifts on Christmas Eve and then we get Santa’s stuff in the morning.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree? Lights first, then all the ornaments that we have collected over the years.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it? Love it – I still get giddy about “snow days” (bummed today was not one)

12. Can you ice skate? Have you ever fallen on the ice? Yes (I took lessons when I was in the 3rd or 4th grade), but it’s been a long while. Definitely fallen on the ice.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? No, isn’t that terrible? But I do remember one gift I was disappointed with – in the 3rd grade, my parents got me a homemade cabbage patch kid doll – it was NOT the same as a real one.

14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you? Traditions, being with family.

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? Where to begin? Fudge, cheesecake.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Going to a Christmas tree farm to cut down a tree; shopping and picking the "perfect" gift; gathering with my family on Christmas Eve and opening gifts.

17. What tops your tree? A lit star.

18. Which do you prefer giving or Receiving? Giving.

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? Carol of the Bells (I like the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's rocking one, which is called "Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24").

20. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum? The first one is OK, but after that, yuck.

Daycare Issue Resolved

2006-11-28T12:27:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we visited the daycare Hubby has been so eager to switch the kids to. We took the kids along so they could see the place and meet the teachers. The Director was not in because of the snow (did I mention? We got snow!!!). So somebody else, who couldn’t answer a lot of my questions, gave us a tour.

We visited the preschool first, which looked OK. The class size is a little bigger than the class Toddler Boy (who shall hereafter be referred to as "G") is currently in. I was not that impressed with the teachers. They seemed really young. I should have asked how much experience they had (something I forgot to put on my checklist to ask). At this point, I’m feeling “OK” about the center.

Then the visit went downhill. We visited the Wobbler room, which would be Baby Girl’s (hereafter “E”) class. I was VERY unimpressed. In fact, I had to pull myself together so that I wouldn’t start crying. The room seemed small and confined. The children sleep in pack-n-plays (E sleeps on a mat at her daycare) and they eat in high chairs (E sits on a chair and eats at a table). The kids all seemed younger than her. It just seemed a step backwards for her. I then visited the Toddler class that she would go into soon and those teachers seemed very young also. They said they do art projects sometimes, but the wobblers don't (which made me sad because E does do art projects in her Wobbler class).

You know that at this point I’m writing this daycare off. But I keep going because I feel I must still ask the questions I came here to ask, so that Hubby cannot say I didn’t give this place a chance. We visit the outdoor playground. Hubby initially used this as a selling point (the kids’ current daycare has an indoor playground). But it was near freezing and everything was wet. So that wasn't that impressive. It did make me appreciate that the kids have an indoor playground – especially since it rains 9 months out of the year here.

So after doing my obligatory Q&A session, I told Hubby we could go. The moment we got to the van, I broke down crying. I love the kids’ current daycare. I have such a level of comfort with the center and the teachers. And now, I really have a new found appreciation for the place. To be honest, I’m not sure if any other place would really compare.

Hubby told me what I wanted to hear: we don't have to move them. And that I shouldn’t let his eagerness to make the move make me feel bad. Luckily, he also did not like certain aspects of the daycare. Although he did throw out there “don’t the kids have to go there someday anyway?” This was one of his selling points for moving the kids now – so they could adjust now, when it may be easier, rather than later. I retorted that kindergarten will be a big transition time period all around. The woman giving the tour couldn’t tell me whether they offer after school care for the kindergarten the kids will likely go to, so I don’t even know if they’ll end up going to that daycare anyway. Who knows? Maybe we’ll move into a different school district by that time and it will be a non-issue (paranoid hubby has been wondering if our house is making us sick and raised the idea of a new house this weekend, to which I retorted “and move the kids to yet another daycare?” HA!).

An additional thing that bothers me about this place - no waiting list. In fact, they offer the parents of students enrolled there a referral bonus of $300 or $400 if they refer someone to the daycare and they sign up. Are they desperate for kids? Do kids not stay? Why so few kids in the Wobbler room (they only have four right now, but can have up to 8)?

Feeling VERY relieved that the kids can stay put. Although, you know from time to time I'll get the "we could have saved $300 a month.” Well, we could probably save that if I just stopped drinking wine. :-)

How I'm feeling about the whole issue right now.

When Did Weekends Start to Suck?

2006-11-27T11:41:00.000-08:00

I have always loved the weekends. I eagerly await their arrival all week long. I look forward to lazy mornings, lots of cuddling with the kids, a relaxed pace, “VH1 Best Week Ever.” Then they get here. And my husband ruins them for me.

My husband has a very tough time letting himself relax, unless he is on vacation or drinking. He can’t let go of the running list of things we should or need to do to our 1950-ish ranch home. So the weekend becomes a series of “to do” items. And most involve a fair amount of labor and power tools, so the “to do” responsibilities tend to fall on him.

And then he gets tired. Not sure if the fatigue sets in before he remembers the to do list or after. You’d think this man has no kids with the level of energy and amount of sleep he seems to think he needs. Before we had kids, he frequently took a nap. Every day. People warned me that he might not function well after having kids because of the sleep thing. I just assumed he’d acclimate. I guess I was wrong.

And if he doesn’t have enough energy to begin his “to do” list then he mopes around the house, boredom oozing out of every pore of his body. He gets antsy. He periodically will burst out with “I just can’t sit around the house and do nothing!” I guess caring for the two little children running around the house is “doing nothing.”

How could I forget? Another one of his “to dos” is to go to the gym. He is very devoted to going to the gym. He goes nearly every day. But again, he views it as another “to do” which he usually doesn’t want to do. So, he gets tired. Or if he’s already tired, then he whines because he doesn’t have enough energy for the gym. He needs a nap. And if I do any eye rolls, I hear for the umpteenth time how frickin’ important the gym is to him. Yes, I get it. My life is definitely better if you just go and get it over with and quit bitching to me about it. But dear hubby, when are you going to learn that that hour or two that you spend at the gym is your “Me” time that you should be thankful I help facilitate???

So, it seems I spend much of the weekend trying to align the planets so that he has enough energy to feel he can accomplish something around the house (because caring for the kids doesn’t count, you know) and has a decent workout at the gym. I shouldn’t look forward to Mondays.

Do you see why I relapse into my bad habit over and over again?

That Time of Year

2006-11-24T12:30:00.000-08:00

It’s confession time. No, I am not talking about yet another relapse into bad habits (it’s now a New Year’s resolution). No, I am not going to reveal my real name (Meena is actually how I pronounced my name when I was a toddler). What I am about to share is something that is perhaps shunned more than gushing that your child sleeps through the night or revealing that you’re back to your pre-pregnancy weight.

I am the polar opposite of the Grinch (the pre-heart-grew-three-sizes Grinch).

So there, I’ve outed myself. From today until Christmas Day is my favorite time of year. A whole month of festivities, anticipation, listmaking, decorating, baking, shopping, wrapping. I get dizzy thinking about it all. And not dizzy, like I might want to flee to some deserted island to get away from it all, but dizzy because I get too excited. The kind of excitement, where if you think about it too much, you suddenly have to pee. Does anyone else have to pee when you’re in Hallmark? That store does it to me, every time.

I think my mother has it worse than me. For the last few weeks, she has been planning the meals, decorations, events that will take place during our four night stay at a house in Sunriver over Christmas. The topic has surfaced in nearly every conversation I’ve had with her lately. I think she may already be packing.

Since having kids, my affection for this time of year has only gotten worse. Now, I get excited not only for me, but for them. And it’s so fun that Toddler Boy now seems to comprehend what Santa is all about (although would you be a doll, dear boy, and please let us have a picture of you with Santa this year? You refused the last two years). Up until our purchase of the movie Cars last week, he was watching The Polar Express daily. It makes me think back when I was a child and eagerly awaited Santa’s arrival and thought I could hear his sleigh on Christmas Eve. Now, I get to see all of this excitement through the eyes of my children.

So in order to keep that Christmas Spirit alive for the next month, I am going to try to squeeze the following in:

* Next Week: Polar Express Train Ride

* Next Weekend: Chop down Christmas tree at a tree farm. Not sure which farm we’ll visit, but I prefer one that has a gift shop and offers hot cocoa.

* On a rain-free evening: Take the kiddos to see the Oregon Zoo Zoolights

* Mid-December: Visit Peacock Lane

With the exception of the tree cutting, these will be events we have not yet done as a family. There are many reasons I love this season, but I think creating and carrying out family traditions is what makes this time of year special to me.

P.S. If you're on the prowl for an advent calendar that is neither too cutesy/immature, too expensive (I can't quite justify the $$$ for this wooden one from Restoration Hardware), or too cheap, Starbucks has a terrific reusable advent calendar. It's durable (not flimsy cardboard) and in the shape of a tree. Each drawer has a truffle filled chocolate bar. It's only $15.95, but I was shocked (my naivety showing, perhaps) to find out they're selling for nearly double on ebay. I did get the last one at a Starbucks store today, so they might be in short supply.

Thankful

2006-11-22T14:11:00.000-08:00

10 Simple Indulgences I am Thankful For

1. That first cup of coffee in the morning. The second cup is no where near as good.

2. Music. One of the things that makes the commute much more tolerable. And it can drown out the sounds of whiney/screaming children. Also makes work more tolerable when Dave Matthews and Chris Martin are crooning out of your computer.

3. People magazine.

4. A glass of wine in the evening. St. Josef’s Pinot Noir is getting heavy rotation right now.

5. Grey’s Anatomy & The Office.

6. Chocolate.

7. Lemongrass Chicken from the Thai food roadstand cart across the street from my building at work. The place may look sketchy, but the food is good and it’s served with the best peanut sauce I’ve ever tried (the closest thing to liquid peanut butter you can get).

8. Rock and Roll sushi rolls dipped in the perfect ratio of wasabi to soy sauce.

9. An opportunity to sit down and attempt a Sudoku or crossword puzzle. Actually completing one is another story.

10. Aveda Hand Relief.

10 Moments I am Thankful for (in order of chronology, not significance)

1. When Hubby cried during our wedding ceremony.

2. When I learned that I passed the Bar Exam. I’m not sure I’ve ever screamed/jumped up and down as ecstatically as I did that day six years ago.

3. When I saw my first positive pregnancy test. A mixture of relief, excitement, and worry.

4. When I first heard Toddler Boy cry after he was born.

5. When the kids were babies and would fall asleep on my chest. There were times I resented the fact that they would ONLY sleep in this position, but at the same time I knew the stage wouldn’t last long. I miss it. (Note: I have multiple pictures of Hubby with baby sleeping on him, but only one very ugly picture of myself with baby sleeping on me, taken 7 days after his birth).

6. When Toddler Boy was a baby and we’d fall asleep together while he was nursing.

7. When the ultrasound revealed Baby Girl was a girl. I feel a little shame that I was so excited to find out I was having a girl, but it was a wonderful moment.

8. When I first heard Baby Girl cry and got a glimpse of her after she was born. We were told we might not hear her cry or even get to see her depending on how serious her condition was.

9. When we bid our adieus to the nurses and walked out of the hospital with Baby Girl after her 2.5 week stay in the NICU.

10. When the kids “get cozy” with me on the couch in the morning.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

I Love a Rainy Night

2006-11-21T12:30:00.000-08:00

I was reading a fabulous post about the lack of seasons in Southern California. And it got me thinking about this place I call home, this place I grew up. I have a certain affection for Portland, which I may gush about from time to time. There are many reasons why I chose to keep my roots here, one of those reasons is the weather.

For those who have never been to the Pacific Northwest, you might have heard it rains here a bit. That’s really an understatement. It rains. A lot. The locals here will tell you that you might see blue sky in July and August, but that’s about it. That’s a slight exaggeration. One of those tall tales cranky Portlanders tell out-of-towners so that they don’t get the crazy idea to move here. But it does rain. A lot. For most of the year. It actually rained on my wedding date, August 7th – one would think you’d have clear skies in August.

There are people who have lived here all or most of their lives and still have a hard time dealing with the amount of rain, the grey skies, the lack of sun. There’s even a disorder that might explain their moodiness. I can’t tell you the number of times a day someone complains to me about the rain.

It’s rare that you will hear me complain about the rain. It might be partly due to the logical part of my brain, which tells me that much of the beauty of this part of the country is driven by the color green, which requires a fair amount of water to sustain. But I think another reason I don’t complain about the rain is that I’m lazy. Not too lazy to complain, fear not, I do have energy for that. Rather, I like staying home, lounging in my sweatpants and fleece sweatshirt and warm socks, snuggling under a blanket with whoever will let me snuggle with them, watching TV or a movie, drinking hot tea or wine, cooking and eating comfort food. Rain makes me want to hibernate. It’s not the best thing for my waistline, but the comfortable, relaxed attire helps cover the extra chub. And the onset of rain reminds me that it’s that time of the year...yes, it’s slightly embarrassing for me to admit, but I become slightly childish at this time of year waiting for Christmas.

Anyway, back to the topic of weather and seasons. I just realized after reading GGC’s post that we do have seasons. Our fall started out beautifully. Still plenty of sun, but cooler temperatures, and the landscape took on beautiful yellow, orange and red hues. The hues are now fading and the branches are mostly naked now, but again, it’s that time of year.

Our winter is not marked with much snow. I don’t recall ever having a white Christmas, just grey ones. Since snow is so rare, when it happens, the town almost completely shuts down. We may know how to drive while temporarily blind after oncoming traffic hits a puddle that splashes gallons of water on our windshields, but we’re totally clueless when it comes to snow. And forget ice. Of course, snow was great fun as a kid because it almost always meant school was going to be closed. Even as an adult, I get giddy when it snows and cross my fingers as I call the work hotline hoping to find out they have closed my office.

Lest you think I hate summer and sun, I think I speak for most here in P-Town that we appreciate and adore the sun. Since we see grey skies more often than blue, we don’t have the opportunity to take the sun for granted. The first day of sun markedly lifts the moods of almost anyone you come in contact with. And naturally, it is the sun that allows us to get out and enjoy the beauty of this part of the country. But the mood is only lifted so long as it stays under 90 degrees with little to no humidity. Although, I will tell you that when someone here says it’s humid, I know they’ve never experienced true humidity. About five years ago, I went on a business trip that took me to West Point, NY. I had the opportunity to visit Manhattan and fell in love with the city. BUT the humidity almost killed me. I was a sweaty, red-faced mess. So attractive when you’re walking down the street, trying to look somewhat chic and non-out-of-towner-ish and you have nothing to wipe the sweat off your brow or dab the sweat that has made the sides of your head wet. And why didn’t someone tell me to avoid the inferno that is waiting for the subway? That trip taught me that we have no idea what true humidity is. And yet, I’ve heard from those who have been or lived in the south that I still don’t know true humidity. Ugh. I will take rain any day over that.

I recall one night during a business trip to St. Louis hearing rainfall outside. I opened the windows of my hotel room and felt a strange sense of comfort. When it comes right down to it, rain means "home" to me.

Territorial, Mommy Style

2006-11-17T12:39:00.000-08:00

We just received a notice about the rate increase at daycare for 2007. It’s about a 7% increase, a little over $100 more a month. Completely washes out the discount we got for Toddler Boy when he moved up to the young preschool class in September.

It’s a little irritating, but at the same time, anticipated. It goes up every year. In the notice, they compare daycare tuition rates for daycares in the vicinity. And they’re very comparable, even cheaper than some that don’t have the benefit of a federal subsidy being that the daycare is in a federal building. However, I do work downtown and these rates are probably higher than if you compared the rates to centers in the suburbs.

Husband is very irritated with the rate increase. Even though he should be well accustomed to it since he’s seen four rate increases since Toddler Boy started daycare there.

Husband is very bottom line oriented. Things have been tight for us financially and he handles the bills, so he is intimately familiar with how tight things are. Yesterday, he contacted the daycare that is relatively close to our home and found out their rates. This is the same daycare that our good friends’/Husband's business partner's kids have gone to. We actually had this daycare as a backup option if the kids did not get into the daycare in my building at work. And we’ve always assumed our kids would eventually need to go to this daycare for the after school care they can provide when the kids start kindergarten.

Husband has often made comments in the past about this daycare – about it being cheaper, about their nice vacation time policy, and about its proximity to our house. I’ve always shot him down when he made comments like this because there was no way I would entertain the thought of transitioning to that daycare. I had good reason – I could go down and feed the baby during the day. I could go visit and play. It helped assuage the guilt I had when going back to work to know my baby was in close proximity. And, if I’m being honest, I always thought daycare choice was MY decision because it was ME that was most impacted by returning to work after having the babies.

So dear Hubby prepared some talking points as to why he believes we should switch to this daycare. He knew he wasn’t going to get a very receptive audience in me and that it would likely just piss me off. So he listed off all the positive things. Savings of almost $500 a month…8 vacation days a year…he can be involved in the drop offs and pick ups…getting to work/leaving work would be easier for me…closer proximity to home…they’re open on many federal holidays that I have off so I could even send the kids to daycare if I wanted a “me” day…transitioning now might be easier than transitioning when they hit kindergarten.

Immediately I attack. $500 savings? That’s based on the kids only going for 7 hours. He mistakenly calculated that meant 9:30-5:30, to which I pointed out, no, 7 hours from 9:30 is 4:30. So, I might have been successful in bursting his bubble a bit about the extent of the savings.

We were in the car driving to a restaurant for dinner when he made his pitch. Other than pointing out that the savings might not be as big he thought, I sat in silence for most of the drive. Normally, I would get a little more emotional/angry and try to shut the idea down because, this is an area he has no say in, right?

I don’t know if it’s fair for me any longer to say he has no say. The kids are no longer little babies that need me to feed them. I can’t even visit Toddler Boy anymore because once he sees me he thinks we’re going home. I visit Baby Girl on most days but I know that sometime in the near future, that will have to end because it will be too traumatic when I leave her to go back to my office. I know Hubby has some valid points that I should give some consideration. I haven’t even mentioned that this other daycare has “Parent’s night out” every other Friday. They also have a swimming pool. Without doing drop offs and pick ups, I’d probably get into work earlier and get home earlier. And the evil part of me would like to see the tables turned so that Hubby can fully appreciate what it’s like to do drop offs and pick ups every day.

But still, my babies, (yes, I still think of them as my babies) are in close proximity to me when I’m at work. I can go see them during the day, if I choose to. I get to visit when they throw birthday parties for the kids (granted, only once a year). I can easily attend field trips (granted, only once or twice a year). I like the teachers, I know the teachers, I am comfortable with everything about the daycare.

So here is what it comes down to, I am emotionally attached to the daycare. My husband is not. At all.

Random Thoughts

2006-11-15T18:45:00.000-08:00

Annoying issue of the day: The elastic on one of my thigh highs decided to give today and periodically I could feel it creeping down my leg. During my lunch break at work, I walked to the mall downtown on the hunt for some PJs for Toddler Boy and Baby Girl for The Polar Express Train Ride in a couple of weeks. The walking expedited the nylon’s slide down my leg. I tried ever so nonchalantly to pull it up while in Baby Gap and I put a hole right through the nylon. Luckily, being in the mall already, I was able to purchase another pair of nylons and change.

Good news/Update: Baby Girl’s separation anxiety has waned significantly. She no longer cries when I drop her off at daycare or when I leave. Does a mommy's heart good. And dang if her "ma ma" chant when I pick her up doesn't elevate my spirts too. Toddler Boy took a long time to say "ma ma," so I'm feeling pretty special that she picked it as one of her first words.

Deal of the Day: While shopping for a replacement pair of nylons, I decided to try on some bras. Tried on a Maidenform bra, originally $32, marked down to $16. Decided to purchase, it rang up as $6.40! If I weren’t in such a hurry to get back to work, I would have stocked up!

Latest List-Making Obsession: Amazon's Gift Organizer. Not only can you keep a wish list for yourself, but you can keep lists of gift ideas for everyone on your gift list and Amazon will even give gift idea recommendations. Dangerous stuff since the holiday season is exacerbating my ADD enough as it is!

Stranger Danger

2006-11-06T12:11:00.000-08:00

Seems Baby Girl is going through some separation anxiety. She’s over 14 months now and this is the first bout of it she’s really had. For a long time she could care less if I dropped her off at daycare. Generally, she’s OK when I drop her off in the morning. It’s usually snack time then and she loves to eat. Except this morning. She had a full blown melt down when I tried to drop her off. Perhaps being Monday didn't help things. Typically, the melt downs happen if I visit her during the day. The moment I make a motion to go or say I’m going, she clings to me. She can be freakishly strong sometimes. She stretches her tiny little arms out to me as I pass her to the daycare provider. She cries big tears out of those eyes that are still too big for her face. Does anyone not feel like their heart is being ripped to shreds when their kids do that? I guess she’s been melting down when any of her usual teachers go on break or to lunch. When the teacher leaves, a sub comes in and she clings to whatever teacher she knows best. Poor bubby.

Toddler boy went through multiple phases of this, and I know most other kids do too, so I know it will pass. But it still tugs at my heart to think of what must be going on in that little head of hers to want to cling to someone so badly.

I took her in to Kiddie Kandids this weekend to get her pictures taken. The pictures almost didn't happen because she would not stop clinging to me. If I tried to sit her down, her eyes would well up, and she'd pull that puppy dog look. I was ready to get up and leave when she spotted a ball and pointed at it saying "bah." Once I gave it to her, she cheered up, and pictures were accomplished! Yay, now I am free from guilt for a while. You know, the guilt of not having as many pictures of the second child. "And she's a girl, she's going to actually want to look at those pictures." Thank you, Mom.

Where it all began

2006-11-05T13:51:00.000-08:00

1990: Spot future Hubby in the hallway in high school. He’s a Junior! A whole year older! He’s got an exotic name that I don’t learn how to properly pronounce for a long time. He’s insanely cute, even with his (small) mullet and rolled up, tight ankle jeans. But he’s dating homely girl with big hair and bad teeth. Develop crush from afar.

1991: Future Hubby sits behind me in high school speech class! Crush deepens since I actually speak to him and discover he’s is funny and nice, which makes him even cuter.

Early-to-mid 1991: Future Hubby begins working with me at crappy fast-food restaurant. Makes crappy job a little more enjoyable.

Mid-1991: A girl’s got to date, so I enter relationship with already-went-to-rehab-kicked-out-of-private-school-bad-boy.

Mid-to-late 1991: Future Hubby and homely girl break up. I fail to view this as my opportunity because I am in what I don’t know yet is a doomed relationship and instead, set future Hubby up with girlfriend of mine.

Late 1991: Cut off friendship with future Hubby’s girlfriend. Thereafter, since I no longer work at crappy fast-food restaurant and girlfriend is now former-friend, don’t see much of future Hubby.

1992: Future Hubby graduates from our high school. Will I ever see him again?

September 1993: For some unknown reason, I’m still dating bad-boy, but very unhappy and ready to get out. While driving to the college to buy textbooks for start of freshman year, I spot future Hubby working as a valet at swanky hotel downtown. Make mental note to walk by said hotel some day and say “hi.”

Mid-September 1993: Walk by hotel on way to “go jogging” on waterfront. Catch up with future Hubby. He is still dating former friend. Find out that he works out at a specific gym. Make mental note to join such gym.

Mid-September 1993 – early November 1993: Work out at future Hubby’s gym on regular basis (the frequency of which will never be repeated again until I start actually going to the gym again). We converse while working out. Regularly subject myself to donning swimsuit in front of future Hubby while we relax in gym’s Jacuzzi hot tub after our workout. Occasionally our knees brush against each other. Fortunately, neither one of us is electrocuted. We occasionally talk on the phone. He often picks me up from work and drives us to the gym and then drives me home. Tummy always full of butterflies.

Late October: Ask future Hubby if he’d like to go with me to watch a movie at the house my best friend is dog sitting at. He picks me up in his purple Subaru Impreza and looks very handsome in jeans and button-up shirt. I can smell his cologne. We watch “School Ties.”

November 3, 1993: I break up with my boyfriend. Tell future Hubby and then blow off studying for math test to go attend party at future Hubby’s house.

November 4, 1993: Future Hubby breaks up with his girlfriend. Invites me to go see a movie with a friend of his. We go see “The Good Son.” Don’t ask.

November 5, 1993: Hubby and I go on our official first date. Chinese take out. Rent “Indecent Proposal” and “Children of the Corn Part-something.” I know, don’t ask, although Indecent Proposal was my pick. I don’t recall watching much of the movies.

Many, many, many fun weeks follow.

Today is the 13th anniversary of our first date.

It is fun to remember the butterflies, the accidental physical touches before it was OK to touch, that “look,” and the smell of his cologne.

But you know what, even though that time was fun as heck, I distinctly remembered wishing that we’d move past all that and get to that place of comfort and security and trust, where our memories would be memories of “us.” We’ve now shared over a 1/3 of our lives together. Our memories are definitely mostly memories of “us.” And we’ve definitely hit a place mostly consisting of comfort, security, and trust.

But there are occasions, particularly if I meet him somewhere out of the ordinary (such as meeting somewhere to go to lunch together) or if I look at our wedding photos (the man is sickingly photogenic - just take a look below, apologize for the photo of a photo), that I feel those butterflies all over again.

Love you Swa. (not his exotic name, but some embarrassing nickname we developed for each other that I can no longer remember the origins of)

Super Bug

2006-11-03T11:46:00.000-08:00

I have a terrible habit of not blogging enough. Is it too late to report on Halloween? Toddler Boy missed out on Trick or Treating. Poor kid. Had a fever of 103 at daycare, came home, immediately threw up on the floor, and spent the rest of the night laying on the couch. It was cold as heck outside (yes, it does sometimes get cold here in the city of liquid sunshine!) and he must have felt miserable, because he made no requests to go trick or treating. And this boy loves candy. So, we dressed up Baby Girl in her ladybug costume (will post pictures later) and carried her from door to door to collect candy for her big brother. It’s a good ruse, I tell you. People were generous! Often received double the candy! Medication kicked in for Toddler Boy sometime after we got home and he had a great time going through the candy, touching them, fantasizing about what kind he’d eat “too-morrow.” Baby Girl didn’t even know what happened – she did all the work and her brother got all the rewards! Although she too loved picking candies out of the basket and trying to hold as many as she could in one hand (that is, when her brother wasn’t looking, or else he’d scream at her).

Also on Halloween, I was hit with strep. AGAIN. I had it 3 weeks ago and it was just a little over a week ago that I stopped the antibiotics. No one else in the family has gotten it, although several teachers at the daycare as well as other parents had it, but no kids! Go figure! One of the parents got it around the same time I initially did and just came down with it again this past weekend. So I feel a little less like a freak that I got it again so soon.

I fear I’ve been hit with it again as payback for some unhealthy indulgences of late. A way of my body trying to communicate with me, scream at me to stop such bad habits. Why do I keep backtracking??? I’m tired of talking about it because I fear others will just roll their eyes at my repeated pledge to get healthy. I think I need to just get militant about it and pledge to never, ever have one again. I don’t think there is any other way. I have one and it soon turns into another. And once you have one, you can’t really say “it’s been X amount of days since I’ve had one.” So even one breaks the feeling of pride of quitting. If anyone is in the same boat or knows someone in the same boat, I highly recommend this resource: Why Quit. The philosophy is complete cessation, abruptly. No relapse allowed. I’ve looked at other resources, but I keep coming back to this one because it’s so strict. It doesn’t tell me to set a quit date a week from now. I don’t want to keep doing this for a week, I want to stop NOW. It doesn’t open the door for relapse, it rules it out. The site contains many sources of motivation, education, and support. All free. It’s a little hard core, but I think it’s what I need.

So, I’ll keep on movin’ on and keep myself accountable.

4 days and counting.

Now will the strep super bug leave me before I really pay the piper and Hubby gets it??? This morning he said he had a bit of a sore throat. Please don't let it progress or my weekend will be hell!!!

The Wild

2006-10-24T12:10:00.000-07:00

Who knew that taking a peak at African wildlife LIVE would be so much fun?

Potentially very addicting:

Africam

Healthy Mama Revisited

2006-10-19T17:19:00.000-07:00

I had strep throat last week. Although I had numerous bouts of tonsillitis growing up (little known fact: I probably have the largest tonsils known to exist), I never had strep. It is painful. The most painful sore throat I have ever experienced. If you have never had it, it feels like sharp objects are almost constantly jabbing your throat. You do what you can to avoid swallowing because swallowing is especially painful. Talking even hurts. And the accompanying fever made for its own level of discomfort.

I am very happy to report that no one else in the family got it (although Baby Girl currently has had a fever for the last couple of days – but doctor’s report today is that she does not have strep!). Especially happy Hubby avoided it. It’s another post all together, but suffice it to say that as manly and strong as my Hubby appears, when he has any kind of a bug he reverts to a five year old.

The “updside” of being sick last week…I have once again quit what I said I was going to quit. It’s been a week. I am not going to turn back. Something about that raw, inflamed feeling in my throat made smoking sound very, very bad.

Now that I’m feeling almost 100% and committed to staying “quit” I feel like I owe it to myself to become that healthy mama I would like to be.

Step One: I’ve joined Weight Watchers again. I tried Weight Watchers earlier this year and although I did not follow it to a “T,” I did lose weight since I made an effort to modify my portion sizes and food choices to get as close as I could to my allocated points. At the time I was pumping for Baby Girl. When you are pumping/nursing, you are given extra points since you need more calories while pumping/nursing. Although I did not attain my goal weight, I did get fairly close and actually weighed about 10 pounds less than I did just prior to having children. Well, I’m not pumping anymore. Yet, I am eating the same amount I did while pumping. So, you know what that means…the scale is evil again (not too evil, but enough that I recognize I should reduce how much I consume!).

Step Two: In part due to the illness last week, I have not been drinking as much alcohol. Now I know what some of you may be thinking. It’s not like that. I swear! I don’t drink a lot. But many evenings I do have a glass of wine (sometimes two) or a beer (or two). But obviously, there are some negative repercussions from drinking – predominantly, it's been a trigger for ciggy cravings. Additionally, it conflicts some with step one (unless I skip dinner and save my points for alcohol!). Hubby is trying to lose some weight too, so he’s also trying to cut back on the alcohol too. We’ve actually been drinking tea in the evening! That doesn't make me sound old, does it?

Step Three: This is the hard one. I need to start exercising. Will post plan for doing so at a later time. Procrastinating? Maybe.

So I don’t need to add the ½ Dove chocolate bar I ate to my points total for today, do I? Dang nice coworker gave it to me. How can one say "no" to such delicious creamy chocolate?

Off on another “camping” adventure this weekend. This will be our 4th excursion in the beloved RV since the beginning of September! One last trip to the coast before the weather takes a turn for the worse. Will ponder the fit mama vision and how I can get there.

Musings When I Should be Working

2006-10-04T15:01:00.000-07:00

I’m feeling a bit scatter-brained right now. Different thoughts keep creeping into my head as I’m trying to get work done. I’m a horrible procrastinator as it is and these thoughts are not helping.

Camping trip this weekend to the coast…the discussion with Hubby this weekend that he might want a third child…reflecting on our unconventional sleep arrangements after talking to two new moms yesterday who are either trying the cry-it-out approach or actually using their crib…my desire/need to adopt a healthier lifestyle…my need to get motivated and crack down the whip on myself at work to be more productive…

So what will it be? OK, stop pulling my arm. Let’s talk babies.

Why does it just come up when we’ve been drinking? We were having some margaritas in a very smoky bar (don’t ask, I’ve woefully failed my earlier pledge) at our neighborhood Mexican restaurant and somehow the discussion veered off into whether we would want to have any more kids. I think I prompted it by talking about whether we should get rid of some of the kids’ toys/clothes/equipment that they have outgrown. Half joking, I said “well, what if we have more kids?” He’s not that opposed. This is dangerous. Telling your wife, who has a teeny tiny case of baby fever that you may actually be interested in having another child increases said baby fever. His main concern about having more children is money. The cost for two kids in daycare is a few hundred dollars more than our monthly mortgage. We both look forward to the day when we won’t have the cost of daycare – think of all the “extra” money we’ll have!!! No way could we afford to have three in daycare. Any third child will have to wait to make its presence until after Toddler Boy is in school. So it would be a couple of years before we'd even think of embarking on the “trying” thing.

I’m still on the fence – I think I’m right on top of the fence.

On one side of the fence…children growing more independent, children sleeping through the night, we’re getting closer to having our bed back to us at least part-time kid-free, the two-children thing is becoming more manageable, all those great vacations with the kids to look forward to, the NICU experience is becoming more and more of a distant memory, mama’s body is almost back to normal (sans extra mushy tummy, stretch marks, and lovely c/s scar), I’m not feeling as fuzzy in the head anymore – actually thinking of things I want to do, some day being free of daycare costs, vacation time can be used for vacation (not hoarding for maternity leave).

On the other side of the fence…a pregnant belly to rest my hands on, feeling and watching baby move in my tummy, the exciting baby-moon period, the possibility of nursing a baby again (I conveniently erase all memory of the problems I had nursing my other two), that baby smell, maternity leave, the possibility Baby Girl could get a sister, a bigger family to love.

The list could really go on and on for either side of the fence. Those are just the more positive factors of either choice – naturally there are some negative factors. But it is a teeny bit fun to think about. It’s nice knowing the option may be out there. One of the things I’ve felt sad about when thinking we may never have more children is – is that part of my life really over? The baby-making, the pregnancy, the newborn phase, the small children – is that really over? I’m not ready for it to be over quite yet.

But then again, ask me in a few days and I may just change my mind!

Outdoor Adventure #2

2006-09-22T10:05:00.000-07:00

We’re off to Sunriver today for a fun-filled weekend of camping. Yes, I said “camping”. And yes, I said “fun”. This will be our second trip with the fam’. The first trip was to the beach and broke us in. We had a good time.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned the trailer we camp in, it’s this model: http://www.keystonerv.com/divisions/common/imgpopup.php?div=cougar&year=2007&image=304BHS. Hubby is proud of its length and number of slides. Yes, he is ALL man.

I’m sure the hard core campers out there are probably shaking their heads and rolling their eyes and thinking “that is SOOOO not camping.” Well, it’s the kind of camping we do now. It a good thing for all ages, but it’s very nice for the child who is not yet walking. Baby Girl can crawl, cruise around inside the trailer and not get dirty! Sure some of you may be able to do without a microwave oven when you’re camping, but our Toddler Boy wants his microwavable “little pizzas” and by golly, we’re going to give them to him! The fact is, it gets us out “there”. We can do the fire and s’mores thing at night and see all those stars you can’t see in the city. We all get some fresh air. We get to experience the outdoors (when we’re not inside watching TV).

We’re bringing mother-in-law. Yes, I said mother-in-law is coming too. We’ve learned that vacations with the kiddos are much easier on us if we bring an extra pair of hands. She came last time and slept on the bottom bunk, while Toddler Boy slept on the top bunk. In exchange for the help we just have put up with the occasional “oh, he’s such a good boy” accolades when we are attempting to reprimand Toddler Boy. Yes, she says it right in front of him. Grrrr.

Quit Day

2006-09-07T14:41:00.000-07:00

I am more than ashamed to admit what I am about to admit. I usually try to hide it (as far as I know, mother-in-law is still not aware). But I feel there is a good reason for me to “out” myself. I smoke. I probably needn’t qualify that with the following things (which seek to minimize that statement): I only have a few a day, mostly in the evening after work, and mostly just when I drink (although sometimes I start the drinking to justify the cigarette, which does sometimes cause me to drink more often than I should).

The reason I’m outing myself is that I want to quit. For good. Forever. Myriad of reasons for wanting to. It’s one of those strange things in life you don’t really need to justify the reason for doing so because most of us agree it’s a pretty darn good thing to do. But I will share one reason. I really would like to be one of those healthy mamas who eats good and jogs and hikes and has that healthy glow and very little jiggle. Maybe I could be one of those mamas that run in the Hood-to-Coast or run in 5Ks to raise money for worthy causes.

I can’t be my version of a healthy mama if I smoke.

No-brainer here, but there’s no good reason for me to smoke (note: here is where I’m trying to convince myself there is no good reason to do it). I believe I do it because I associate it with relaxing, with “taking a break,” with having a moment all to MYSELF. It’s these associations that keep sucking me back when I attempt to quit. Sometimes I even trick myself into thinking I enjoy the act of smoking.

Of course, I will need to come up with some alternative relaxation techniques. Or at least something to distract the cravings when they arise. I think figuring out how to incorporate exercise into my life will greatly help because I do not associate exercise with smoking – to me they are completely incompatible with each other.

I have no more cigarettes in the house. I am not going to buy anymore. Today is my quit day.

OK, so my next challenge: how do I incorporate exercise into my daily life???

Going Away

2006-08-31T15:31:00.000-07:00

Hubby and I are about to do something we have not yet done since having kids.

We are spending two nights apart from the kids.

We have done about (3) one night trips since we became parents over three years ago. But two whole nights? I think that will be as much as I can handle.

Last night Hubby said to me that he was not really looking forward to the trip. That he was sad about leaving the kids. We’re planning to take the trailer out for our first camping adventure the following week and he said he wished we could all just go camping this weekend.

That’s why he’s my husband and the father of my children!

My mom will stay with the kids. I am going to try to quash any anxiety I may have about any number of things…how will she manage to get them to bed at night…will she feed Baby Girl enough…what about Toddler Boy’s potty training progress. It will be her problem to worry about, right? Right?

So why are we spending two nights away from the kids? Another thing we have not yet done since having kids – seeing the Dave Matthews Band perform at the Gorge Amphitheater in George, Washington. If you have not heard of or seen this amphitheater, it is nothing less than amazing. Located on a bluff above the Columbia River Gorge. Breathtaking views.

What can I saw about the Dave Matthews Band? They are so very, very good live. The first time I heard them live, I was a convert. They are much better live than in the studio (and those albums aren’t too shabby!). Not to mention that Dave guy is so very nice. Hubby met him back in the day when Hubby was a valet at a hotel downtown. Dave was conversational and nice and even obliged when Hubby was so bold as to ask for an autograph (for my brother who was obsessed with him at the time). He filled an 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper with a drawing and his signature. So, he holds a special place in my heart for being one of those rare breeds – a nice celebrity. And if he plays “Watchtower” one of the two nights he will be endeared to me even more!!!

So we leave on Friday morning with another couple who also will be leaving their toddler and baby for the weekend. We will have fun. We will walk briskly after they open the gates to claim the best spot we can find on the lawn. We will drink outrageously over-priced beer. We might even wave a lighter and groove to the music at the appropriate moment. We will sleep in. Yes, sleep in. Maybe even past 8:00 am. And we will miss our babies.

Who is PDX Mama?

2006-08-30T12:21:00.000-07:00

So who is this person starting this blog? Why would you want to read what she has to say?

I don’t know. I don’t claim to be any more interesting than anyone else. Although I know I’m pretty darn special to a few people.

I think I share the title of “most favorite person” (with “Hubby”) to our 3 year old son, “Toddler Boy,” and one year old daughter, “Baby Girl.”

And I think I may still be “Hubby’s” favorite person even though this transformation into a mama might not have been what he had in mind when we fell crazy in love with each other back in 1993.

Other things that may, or may not, interest you… I was born and raised in one of the most beautiful cities I have ever been to, Portland, Oregon…I work full time as an attorney for a government agency…yet I am introverted and I hate conflict or confrontation…my dream job would be that of a nicely paid college student allowed to acquire as many degrees as I choose…I have mostly quashed the guilt of going back to work after having babies…we just purchased a travel trailer, so we are about to embark on some serious RV’ing with the family, which I’m sure will be the subject of many posts here!

I think I’m finally starting to emerge from that mental fog that comes with having babies. I think those of you with children can understand what I mean by “fog.” It’s that period of time when your central focus in life is this human being whom you now have full responsibility for. The constant feedings. The struggles with breastfeeding. The annoyances of pumping. The repeated attempts to get baby asleep. To stay asleep. Whether to cosleep or not to cosleep. How to stop cosleeping. The parenting doubts and insecurities. The desire/need to do read everything about babies and parenting. The desire/need talk only about babies and parenting. The desire/need to talk about or think about or process baby’s birth. The desire/need to defend every parenting action that conflicts with someone else’s parenting advice.

The fog seemed much heavier after my son was born, but then after having my daughter, the fog was complicated by the fact that I had two little human beings needing and wanting my attention. Oh, and then there’s Hubby’s needs and wants too.

So, now that the fog is lifting, I’m actually starting to think about developing interests for myself that don’t necessarily involve my children (or having more children). Maybe I’ll start exercising or jogging. Maybe I’ll take some wine or cooking or photography classes. Maybe I’ll start scrapbooking. Maybe I’ll start writing.

So here I embark, on perhaps one of my new found interests, this mysterious world of blogging.

A year ago...

2006-08-29T15:10:00.000-07:00

Over the last few months, I’ve sporadically spent some time writing about Baby Girl’s birth and NICU experience. For months after her birth, something would trigger me to replay the events of her birth over and over. Sometimes I’d find myself remembering a certain detail I hadn’t previously thought of. Sometimes (usually after a couple of drinks), I would start to talk to hubby about it. He’d get a little teary and say with a smirk “dude, you’re bringing me down.”

For some reason, it’s only me that finds the need to replay the events and talk about it. Maybe because it was me that was pregnant? Maybe because it was me that went into labor that day? Or maybe, and this is probably it, it’s because Baby Girl’s birth was, for lack of a better word, traumatic.

Throughout my pregnancy with Baby Girl, I was much less paranoid about the pregnancy and birth than I was with Toddler Boy. I completely took for granted the fact that I’d have a healthy baby. I recall that my focus was much more about the impact of having a second child on our family. Would Toddler Boy be jealous? How would our lives change? Could I really love another child as much as I loved Toddler Boy? Would I get quality time with Toddler Boy or would I have primary responsibility for Baby Girl and Hubby for Toddler Boy? Would Toddler Boy develop a preference for Hubby over me? For these reasons, I was in no hurry for the pregnancy to end. While other pregnant friends would say they couldn’t wait for their pregnancy to be over or for their baby to arrive, I felt the complete opposite.

On the morning of the day Baby Girl was born, at just two days shy of 34 weeks pregnant, I awoke to some mild, albeit frequent, contractions. I chalked them up to Braxton hicks and went off to work to prepare for a 10 am meeting. But the contractions kept coming about every 5-10 minutes. Knowing the pre-term labor drill, I did everything I could do – all in the confines of my office – drank lots of water, put my feet up, tried to relax. But they wouldn’t stop. And I started to feel achy, like a fever was coming on. I began to wonder whether I should go to my scheduled meeting or not. I thought about calling the preterm labor nurse who called me weekly to check in on me. I anticipated her first question: “is baby moving?” When I thought about it, I hadn’t felt her move that morning. So I did what I could to encourage movement – I poked, I laid down on my office floor, I rolled side to side. Nothing. That’s when I really began to worry.

I decided not to go the meeting. While struggling to hold back tears, I informed a male coworker who was going to the meeting that I couldn’t make it. He’s an interesting fellow, often cynical and cranky, sometimes too abrupt, but underneath it all, he is a very sweet, caring man. I remember the kindness in his eyes and genuine worry for me. Whenever anyone says anything negative about him, all I can think about it is how kind he was to me that morning.

On the way to the hospital, I remembered that a friend’s early contractions were caused by a bladder infection. I was hopeful that was the reason. I was very anxious as they hooked me up to the monitors. Anxious whether they’d find her heartbeat since I still hadn’t felt her move all morning. Initially I was relieved when they picked up her heartbeat. But that relief was quickly overshadowed by more worry when I saw that her heart rate was over 200. I knew that wasn’t a good sign. The nurse confirmed a mild fever on my part and my pulse was 114 (don’t ask me how I remember that number!).

The monitor showed the contractions were coming about every 2-3 minutes. When the doctor checked me, I was nearly 3 cm. Although I had start dilating and effacing early with Toddler Boy, I had weeks of Braxton hicks contractions that at least forewarned me something was happening. I became increasingly concerned about what was going on.

The doctor speculated that a uterine infection might be to blame and mentioned the possibility that Baby Girl may need to be born that day. Amniocentesis was also mentioned, which strangely, scared me more than a possible birth, because I didn’t really believe Baby Girl would be born that day. After all, I had 6 weeks left in the pregnancy.

The test results for the bladder infection came back negative. Reality set in that things were more serious. The doctor recommended that I be transferred by ambulance to St. Vincent’s, another hospital across town, because of its NICU facility.

They gave me magnesium sulfate before the ambulance ride. I can’t really recall why and I’m not sure that I even questioned it then – I believe it was to help to slow the contractions. I recalled others’ experience with it and was a little nervous. It made me incredibly hot, but fortunately, not nauseous, which probably wouldn’t have been a good thing in an ambulance!

The ambulance ride was quite an event – my first and hopefully, last! Hubby followed the ambulance in my car. The baby’s heart rate remained high and the contractions kept coming.

At St. Vincent’s a team of OBs gathered at my bed to discuss my “case.” It could have been a scene straight out of a TV medical show. All concurred that a uterine infection was likely to blame. They left to discuss options. When they returned they recommended that they deliver baby immediately. I asked if we could delay it for a few days, perhaps get antibiotics instead and allow her lungs to mature. But they all agreed it was safer for her to come out right then than to stay in any longer. They explained that babies born at 35 weeks gestation typically do very well. No one would take my word for it that she was not yet 34 weeks. My mind couldn’t quite grab hold of what was happening. All I knew was that delivering now meant the baby would spend time in the NICU. Immediately I thought of some friends’ experience with the NICU, how traumatic it was for them, how it took them a long while to bond because of the “what ifs”. I did not want to go through that.

I asked whether we’d be able to see her after she was born and they couldn’t promise that. It would depend on how she was doing. All through this, the contractions kept coming and were getting more intense.

I had an ultrasound before the surgery to check for abnormal fluid around the heart and brain, fortunately, all looked well. When I returned to my room, my water broke. If it hadn’t sunk in that this baby was coming today, it surely did now! The contractions were now rather intense and it made the walk down the hall to the OR quite uncomfortable. I remember thinking that it was quite unfair I should have to go through labor when I was just going to have a c-section! Shouldn’t that be one of the benefits of having a c-section?

Hubby soon joined me in the OR and unlike my surgery with Toddler Boy, I don’t recall us joking this time or laughing much at all. I remember saying that I’d be thrilled if she weighed 5 pounds and hoping, hoping, hoping she would be OK.

At 4:53, Baby Girl was brought into this world. And she cried. And I cried. And Hubby cried. I remember when I first heard Toddler Boy cry, and I realize this is a bit sappy, but I thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. And I remember the burst of emotion that came out of me when I heard it. There is so much relief in hearing that cry. It’s like confirmation that everything is OK. I didn’t know what Baby Girl would do when she was born. I knew she’d be tiny and I knew she was probably sick, but I didn’t know if she’d have the strength to cry. I didn’t know how well she’d even breathe. So to hear her cry was more than I could have asked for. We even got a quick glimpse and remarked that she looked bigger than we thought she’d be. We soon found out she was 4 lb 13 oz.

Unlike the time spent in the recovery room after having Toddler Boy, Baby Girl would not be brought to me. She had a fever and as Hubby told me, the doctor was “very worried.” I would not be able to hold her or attempt nursing her. That all had to wait. I held her two days later and was able to try nursing her for the first time five days later. Hubby did bring me a Polaroid of her from in the NICU. My beautiful baby was full of tubes and wires, with one eye open. It is still hard for me to look at that photograph.

All in all, Baby Girl spent 17 days in the NICU. The primary reason for her stay was to complete the two week course of antibiotics. The cause of the uterine infection was a pesky little bacteria called morganella. The doctor had seen only one other case of it in his twenty years. Every one of her doctors told me how lucky I was that I came to the hospital when I did, if I had waited much longer, it might have been too late. Hearing that almost always caused a spontaneous burst of emotion to come out of me.

Over the course of her stay in the NICU she endured many procedures: ventilator for the first couple of days, CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) for the next few days, gavage feeding (tube directly into stomach), umbilical line to monitor her blood pressure, numerous blood draws and IVs (at one time, one was in her scalp), a lumbar puncture to rule out meningitis, and the worst for her mommy, a PICC line. A PICC line is catheter they insert through a vein (in this case, in her arm) that is threaded up the vein to an area very close to the heart. She had been through several IVs and this would obviate the need for new IVs and could stay in place for weeks, so this was a good thing. They told me they would give her morphine for the procedure and that it was probably best I wasn’t there when they did it. They told me they’d call as soon as it was done. So while the procedure was taking place that evening, I was in my hospital room, by myself (Hubby was at home with Toddler Boy), hormones out of control, sobbing. Kicking myself for not asking what the risks of the procedure were. Waiting for that phone call. I waited for at least an hour and then called, hoping they had just forgotten to call me. I was told things were going fine and someone would call me back when it was over. The person who did the procedure actually came to my hospital room to let me know that the procedure went smoothly. I cried out of relief and slowly shuffled to the NICU to see her and verify that she was OK. She was sleeping peacefully.

In total, I spent 9 days in the hospital due to an infection in my incision (which was probably inevitable because of the infection in the uterus). My nightly fevers tipped the doctors off that I might be developing an infection. Unfortunately I was alone both times the doctors came and opened the incision (the first time with the cotton swab of a q-tip, the second time with a scalpel). I am not ashamed to admit that I am a complete baby when it comes to this stuff – the whole thing made me incredibly squeamish. I remember lying there in bed as they were doing it, tears rolling onto my pillow, wishing that no doctor or nurse would ever touch me in that area again.

Showering was a challenge because of the IV (I went through five of them during those 9 days) and the removal of the contraption they had made to cover my open incision. And they wanted me to hose the incision. Yes. Hose it. And then afterward I would get the treat of someone packing it again. Even to this day, I get chills thinking about it. So, I was never that excited to shower!

The positive of all of that was that it allowed me more time to be close to Baby Girl. Getting released would mean driving across town to see her – something that would be complicated by pain meds, others’ schedules to drive me, having sufficient time to spend with Toddler Boy, etc. But at times, it was lonely in the hospital, especially during the work week. Hubby went off to work, Toddler Boy went off to daycare. I visited Baby Girl at her feedings (every 3 hours), but tried not to disturb her while sleeping since sleep was so important for her growth. I kept myself busy during her naps, with pumping, the occasional nap, visitors, getting IV antibiotics, and obsessively watching the television coverage of Katrina.

We had some scares that Baby Girl would not come home on the date they had told us. We had learned from talking with other parents in the NICU that you should never count on the day they tell you your baby can go home. Of course, that’s easier said than done. That day becomes some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. You count down the days. You dream about what it will be like to walk out of that hospital with your baby in your arms, when she was going to finally meet her brother, when she was going to be in our home, sleeping in her very own bed. The obstacle for us was that Baby Girl was having problems consuming her “quota” of milk and at times, they had to gavage feed her to make up the difference. Eating and putting on weight became a large focus of her stay in the NICU and our visits with her. Besides eating, she was doing very well – she was breathing well on her own, keeping up her body temperature, sleeping well, and recovering from the infection.

On the morning of Friday, September 9, 2006 Hubby and I dropped Toddler Boy off at daycare and then went to the hospital to pick up our baby girl. Gleefully, I gathered the multiple bottles of breast milk that remained in their freezer, her quilt that the nonprofit group donates to the NICU, and all other personal effects we had there. We then we put her tiny 5 lb 3oz little body into the infant car seat, using rolled up blankets to fill in the gaps between her body and the seat. Even with that, the buckles were still loose on her little body. We said our goodbyes and thank yous, got our picture taken, and left. That evening, Toddler Boy finally met his little sister!

A year has passed since that eventful day of her birth. She is now a bright-eyed, happy, curious, easy going little girl. She is outgrowing her 6-9 month clothes!!! Yes, for the first time in her life, she is almost up to her age in clothing size! We’ll find out at her appointment next week if she’s moved beyond the 3rd percentile, which she’s lingered around at all of her previous doctor visits. The doctor cannot fault me for not trying to feed her though – she often eats more than her brother.

Her likes: putting any object she finds into her mouth; food…nearly any food (favorites include cheese, pirates booty, & black olives); sippy cups; her binkie; her blanket; her brother; when her brother does something silly near her or touches her (even if its rough touching!) which causes her to laugh hysterically; her brother’s toys; mimicking her brother when he yells; her playmates at school; anyone who will give her some attention (in return she will give you a big smile); cruising around the coffee table.

Her dislikes: her crib; being tired; getting her diaper or clothes changed; and when Toddler Boy tries to reclaim one of his toys from her.

She is truly a joy. Toddler Boy is finally starting to interact with her on a more consistent basis. They almost “play” together now. Well, so long as she stays away from his matchbox cars.