-Eating while lying down is not too fun. I think I'll never want breakfast in bed ever again, quite frankly, because it will remind me of this SPECIAL SPECIAL time in my life. You spill everything, you're constantly lying in a pile of crumbs, and, if you're an obsessive cleaner, you'll think at least once a day about how much junk must be getting wedged under the sofa cushions and you will be positively twitching to get your hands on a dust buster as soon as you're allowed to do chores again.
-You are going to have permanent bedhead, and you just have to live with it.
-No matter how nice your legs may or may not be, I bet you'll begin to loathe the sight of them after staring down at them for four to six weeks. Ditto your feet, especially if they were sorely in need of a pedicure to begin with.
-If your baby is laying low in your pelvis, lying on your side (which is the ideal position when you're pregnant, in terms of blood flow) is going to grind your baby's shoulders against your hipbones. Laying on your back will make you worry about blood clots. Unless you're the kind of pregnant woman who doesn't worry about stuff. Which is to say, a total freak of nature, obviously.
-Your appetite will probably drop off significantly from what you've been used to the last few months. But you'll be bored, and chewing is at least something to DO, so you have to resist the urge to wear a feedbag of M n Ms and Cheetos.
-You'll probably become a lot more aware of your baby's movements when you're just laying around all day. This is partly nice and partly freaky, because around seven and eight months is when you start identifying specific limbs poking out of your skin and having to dislodge feet from your ribcage.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Gestating: Still Not Super Exciting
Nothing new here to report, really, just bored. I gotta tell you, I have read kind of an astonishing amount of fiction in the last nearly three weeks, and I would like to say that I am highly disappointed that I did NOT, as it turns out, take this opportunity to read all those great classics I always meant to get around to. It's always dismaying to be put in a character revealing type of situation and find out just what kind of person you really are. It turns out I'm the kind of person who has still never read Hamlet or A Tale of Two Cities or Moby Dick even when given literally sixteen hours a day of free time, but who HAS managed to read every single Anita Shreve book now, as well as the complete works of Elizabeth Berg. Great accomplishment there. I think I'd like that on my gravestone.
Well. What else. Stats from doctor's appointment Thursday are as follows: 2 cm. dilated, head in minus one station, cervix appeared longer on ultrasound than it had been two weeks ago, but upon examination the doctor pronounced it very thin and stretchy and said she wasn't really "buying" that it had gotten thicker. Baby looks good, though there was a week or so disparity in his abdominal measurements when compared to the head size and femur size. Which is supposedly something to keep an eye on? So they want me to have it rechecked in two weeks instead of four. But even the tech said his knees were so bunched on his chest that it was hard to get an accurate measurement, so I kind of think everything's probably fine and it was just a technical error of some kind.
Based on said (possibly incorrect) measurements, though, he weighs about four pounds, six ounces right now, which is right in the fiftieth percentile, so I'm happy about that. Though, I know weight estimates can often be wildly inaccurate by the third trimester, up to a pound off in either direction I think is what I was told.
Speaking of pounds, I ended up getting weighed twice, decided to slip off my sandals the second time, and discovered that my shoes alone weigh two pounds. Thrilling! Always take off your shoes when being weighed! Set down your purse! Remove all jewelry! These little things add up.
Oh, I also got my first progesterone shot yesterday, which hurt much less than I expected based on what I'd heard about it and on the formidable size of the needle itself. Luckily my um, FLANKS, let's call them, have plenty of padding, so I could probably be injected with something roughly the size of a knitting needle and barely feel it. The actual medicine did sting once it started entering my veins, though, but just briefly, and the bruising was very very minimal. So, no biggie. One less thing to dread. IV's are still far and away a worse experience, even if they don't involve mooning a nurse.
Well. What else. Stats from doctor's appointment Thursday are as follows: 2 cm. dilated, head in minus one station, cervix appeared longer on ultrasound than it had been two weeks ago, but upon examination the doctor pronounced it very thin and stretchy and said she wasn't really "buying" that it had gotten thicker. Baby looks good, though there was a week or so disparity in his abdominal measurements when compared to the head size and femur size. Which is supposedly something to keep an eye on? So they want me to have it rechecked in two weeks instead of four. But even the tech said his knees were so bunched on his chest that it was hard to get an accurate measurement, so I kind of think everything's probably fine and it was just a technical error of some kind.
Based on said (possibly incorrect) measurements, though, he weighs about four pounds, six ounces right now, which is right in the fiftieth percentile, so I'm happy about that. Though, I know weight estimates can often be wildly inaccurate by the third trimester, up to a pound off in either direction I think is what I was told.
Speaking of pounds, I ended up getting weighed twice, decided to slip off my sandals the second time, and discovered that my shoes alone weigh two pounds. Thrilling! Always take off your shoes when being weighed! Set down your purse! Remove all jewelry! These little things add up.
Oh, I also got my first progesterone shot yesterday, which hurt much less than I expected based on what I'd heard about it and on the formidable size of the needle itself. Luckily my um, FLANKS, let's call them, have plenty of padding, so I could probably be injected with something roughly the size of a knitting needle and barely feel it. The actual medicine did sting once it started entering my veins, though, but just briefly, and the bruising was very very minimal. So, no biggie. One less thing to dread. IV's are still far and away a worse experience, even if they don't involve mooning a nurse.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Today was especially productive. I wrote two thank you notes, mended a pair of Jim's pajama pants, repaired a rip in a throw pillow AND the torn leg of Eli's plush Spiderman, sorted and put in albums approximately a hundred photos, and finished up the first season of Mad Men.
Oh, and spent at least twenty minutes crying about how crappy this bedrest situation is for every single person involved, and how I feel like my lousy cervix has singlehandedly put strain upon my relationships with every single person I care about, and how I cannot believe that I'm not even halfway done yet with this whole bedridden gig.
I'm really bearing up like a saint, I know. It just sucks hardcore, frankly, some days. Other days, like yesterday, are fine. Eli napped for three hours (cue the angels singing) and Addy went down the street to play with the neighbor girls all afternoon, while I watched Mad Men in peace and my sister kindly cleaned our whole house in preparation for our meeting with the doula that night. Someone from church brought over dinner, and well, the whole day seemed kind of perfect, for awhile. Except that Eli's nap was prefaced by yet another screaming fit; also, getting the kids to actually eat their dinner, then cleaning up from dinner, took all of Jim's time from the minute he walked in the door to the time the doula arrived. Then he got to discuss episiotomies and perineal massage for two hours! Lots of down time for him!
Anyways, this is just a grumpy rant. Overall, I am kind of getting used to bedrest again, rather than spending the entire day twitching in misery from the longing to get up and DO stuff. Certainly I'm getting a lot of books read (Kelsey sweetly sent me a bunch of Jennifer Weiner books which were really fun and quite well written. I thought I had read her before, but it must've been some other chic lit author, 'cause I liked these books a LOT more than the ones I was thinking of.) I am really, really enjoying Mad Men, and when that's done I plan to move on to How I Met Your Mother. I've been meaning to watch both of those shows for a long time, and there is no better way to watch a series, in my opinion, than in big obsessive gulps, as opposed to a little teasing sip each week.
Also, I don't miss doing dishes or laundry one little bit. Or even cooking, frankly. And helping wipe Eli's rear? Not pining for that just yet, either.
So those things are the upside of bedrest. But oh, it is killing me that I'm going to be laying on a stupid couch during Eli's third birthday party this weekend. That I haven't gotten to help Addy get dressed for her first soccer games this week, much less attend. That all day long I am forced to choose between asking my sister or husband for every. single. thing. I want/need (water, remote control, turn the fan on, new book, stamps for Eli's party invites) or cheat on my doctor's orders to get up and get it myself. That all I can do is listen while Addy and Eli squabble or act up or throw fits about eating. If I try to intervene from the couch, it just makes it worse. If I say nothing and leave the situation to whoever is supervising, I feel negligent and lazy, staring at the TV and thinking LA LA LA while someone else handles my kids.
My kids, who half the time are tearfully hugging all over me and saying they miss me (which literally, physically hurts me, like a Braxton Hicks in my freaking HEART) or are actively ignoring me as I try to reign them in from my couch, gleeful in the knowledge that there's nothing I can do to enforce myself. I feel for them a great, bewildering tangle of pity and irritation. Kind of like they feel towards me, I suppose. Arrgh.
Oh, and spent at least twenty minutes crying about how crappy this bedrest situation is for every single person involved, and how I feel like my lousy cervix has singlehandedly put strain upon my relationships with every single person I care about, and how I cannot believe that I'm not even halfway done yet with this whole bedridden gig.
I'm really bearing up like a saint, I know. It just sucks hardcore, frankly, some days. Other days, like yesterday, are fine. Eli napped for three hours (cue the angels singing) and Addy went down the street to play with the neighbor girls all afternoon, while I watched Mad Men in peace and my sister kindly cleaned our whole house in preparation for our meeting with the doula that night. Someone from church brought over dinner, and well, the whole day seemed kind of perfect, for awhile. Except that Eli's nap was prefaced by yet another screaming fit; also, getting the kids to actually eat their dinner, then cleaning up from dinner, took all of Jim's time from the minute he walked in the door to the time the doula arrived. Then he got to discuss episiotomies and perineal massage for two hours! Lots of down time for him!
Anyways, this is just a grumpy rant. Overall, I am kind of getting used to bedrest again, rather than spending the entire day twitching in misery from the longing to get up and DO stuff. Certainly I'm getting a lot of books read (Kelsey sweetly sent me a bunch of Jennifer Weiner books which were really fun and quite well written. I thought I had read her before, but it must've been some other chic lit author, 'cause I liked these books a LOT more than the ones I was thinking of.) I am really, really enjoying Mad Men, and when that's done I plan to move on to How I Met Your Mother. I've been meaning to watch both of those shows for a long time, and there is no better way to watch a series, in my opinion, than in big obsessive gulps, as opposed to a little teasing sip each week.
Also, I don't miss doing dishes or laundry one little bit. Or even cooking, frankly. And helping wipe Eli's rear? Not pining for that just yet, either.
So those things are the upside of bedrest. But oh, it is killing me that I'm going to be laying on a stupid couch during Eli's third birthday party this weekend. That I haven't gotten to help Addy get dressed for her first soccer games this week, much less attend. That all day long I am forced to choose between asking my sister or husband for every. single. thing. I want/need (water, remote control, turn the fan on, new book, stamps for Eli's party invites) or cheat on my doctor's orders to get up and get it myself. That all I can do is listen while Addy and Eli squabble or act up or throw fits about eating. If I try to intervene from the couch, it just makes it worse. If I say nothing and leave the situation to whoever is supervising, I feel negligent and lazy, staring at the TV and thinking LA LA LA while someone else handles my kids.
My kids, who half the time are tearfully hugging all over me and saying they miss me (which literally, physically hurts me, like a Braxton Hicks in my freaking HEART) or are actively ignoring me as I try to reign them in from my couch, gleeful in the knowledge that there's nothing I can do to enforce myself. I feel for them a great, bewildering tangle of pity and irritation. Kind of like they feel towards me, I suppose. Arrgh.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Middle Child
So bedrest. Not an experience that grows sweeter for being repeated, that's for sure. With Addy, it was practically a vacation, boredom and back pain aside. And the fact that I was DYING from all the supressed nesting urges to scrub baseboards and refold baby clothes. With Eli, it was decidedly worse, requiring someone else to constantly be here to care for Addy. Addy, my nearly two year old who was quite thrown by her mother being suddenly incapacitated and didn't understand at all that a new baby was on the way. There was also that TEENSY issue of my getting an inner ear infection which manifested itself in the form of severe vertigo to the point of vomiting every time I had to move. There was a lot of crying and feeling of despair going on in those five weeks.
And this time its... Well, I'm not vomiting, so there's that. And at least both the kids understand about the upcoming baby, so they kinda-sorta understand why I have to suddenly live on the couch. We've attempted explanation a couple of times- the understanding Addy seems to have is that I'm laying down so that the baby doesn't literally fall out of me. Which I suppose in a general sense is exactly right. But saying that they understand in a mental way what's going on and saying that they ACCEPT what's going on are two very different statements, aren't they?
Addy vaccilates between being extremely solicitious and helpful, running around cleaning to the point of obsessive-compulsiveness (more on that later) and being kind of hostile towards me, though never outright. It's just a passive-aggressive vibe, things like ignoring me even when I've called her name five times and she's two feet away, or refusing to look at me when I'm trying to talk to her in a Serious Tone about behavior issues. Mostly I think she's ok, though, or will be ok as soon as I'm up and around again. I really think half of it is just that she is so tired of waiting for the baby to come, and subconsciously suspects that I'm keeping him hostage in my belly or something. She nods along when we explain that he isn't big enough to come out just yet, but it doesn't stop her from complaining daily, "It takes such a long TIME for babies!" and then glaring at me accusingly.
It's Eli I'm a little worried about. He was doing so well about tantrumming for awhile there. We've seen a drastic improvement in his verbal skills from age two to now, and subsequently a drastic reduction in the frequency and severity of his little screaming fits. But literally since the day things kind of fell apart in the doctor's office, he has been screaming and throwing himself on the floor about every little thing that disappoints or frustrates him. He also keeps wanting to sleep in the crib, to take naps (something he'd given up months ago,) to pretend he's a baby, and other very obvious signals of insecurity about losing his status as the family baby. He's always crawling up onto me to suck his thumb and cuddle, and I try my best to accomodate him while protecting my belly from his jabbing knees and elbows. I'll stroke his hair and whisper, "Are you my Eli boy?" Usually he would nod happily and say yes, but the past week he always shakes his head solemnly and corrects, "No, I your BABY."
I'm trying really hard to maintain perspective and to believe that all of us will come out of the next few weeks ultimately unscathed. To know that children are amazingly resilient and to remind myself that at least I'm still here with them, even if I can't take care of them right now. But it just keeps killing me, every time he says it. I'm getting all teary now, writing about it, even though he is currently fine and running around with his dad and sister. I feel like I am grieving for him, because the fact that he understands about a new baby was initially great and exciting and sweet. And now it's just kind of excruciating to watch. I feel like we're about to break his heart, just a little, and there's nothing I can do about it.
And this time its... Well, I'm not vomiting, so there's that. And at least both the kids understand about the upcoming baby, so they kinda-sorta understand why I have to suddenly live on the couch. We've attempted explanation a couple of times- the understanding Addy seems to have is that I'm laying down so that the baby doesn't literally fall out of me. Which I suppose in a general sense is exactly right. But saying that they understand in a mental way what's going on and saying that they ACCEPT what's going on are two very different statements, aren't they?
Addy vaccilates between being extremely solicitious and helpful, running around cleaning to the point of obsessive-compulsiveness (more on that later) and being kind of hostile towards me, though never outright. It's just a passive-aggressive vibe, things like ignoring me even when I've called her name five times and she's two feet away, or refusing to look at me when I'm trying to talk to her in a Serious Tone about behavior issues. Mostly I think she's ok, though, or will be ok as soon as I'm up and around again. I really think half of it is just that she is so tired of waiting for the baby to come, and subconsciously suspects that I'm keeping him hostage in my belly or something. She nods along when we explain that he isn't big enough to come out just yet, but it doesn't stop her from complaining daily, "It takes such a long TIME for babies!" and then glaring at me accusingly.
It's Eli I'm a little worried about. He was doing so well about tantrumming for awhile there. We've seen a drastic improvement in his verbal skills from age two to now, and subsequently a drastic reduction in the frequency and severity of his little screaming fits. But literally since the day things kind of fell apart in the doctor's office, he has been screaming and throwing himself on the floor about every little thing that disappoints or frustrates him. He also keeps wanting to sleep in the crib, to take naps (something he'd given up months ago,) to pretend he's a baby, and other very obvious signals of insecurity about losing his status as the family baby. He's always crawling up onto me to suck his thumb and cuddle, and I try my best to accomodate him while protecting my belly from his jabbing knees and elbows. I'll stroke his hair and whisper, "Are you my Eli boy?" Usually he would nod happily and say yes, but the past week he always shakes his head solemnly and corrects, "No, I your BABY."
I'm trying really hard to maintain perspective and to believe that all of us will come out of the next few weeks ultimately unscathed. To know that children are amazingly resilient and to remind myself that at least I'm still here with them, even if I can't take care of them right now. But it just keeps killing me, every time he says it. I'm getting all teary now, writing about it, even though he is currently fine and running around with his dad and sister. I feel like I am grieving for him, because the fact that he understands about a new baby was initially great and exciting and sweet. And now it's just kind of excruciating to watch. I feel like we're about to break his heart, just a little, and there's nothing I can do about it.
Monday, August 16, 2010
PSA: Stations of the Cervix... The More You Know
I had a great doctor's visit today- well, as great as any invasive personal exam can be, anyways. (My favorite part is how they always have to say, "LITTLE pressure, now," right before they touch you, in the same way that phlebotomists have to say every single time, "LITTLE pinch, here," right before they shove an iv needle into the bone of your hand.) I'm still just one centimeter, and the baby's head has gone way back up, to minus three station. Yeah, apparently "minus" means HIGHER in the pelvis than zero station, not lower, which is what I had thought. So at the doctor's office last Tuesday, when the baby's head was at zero and she said he was engaged, I knew that was bad, and then I got really worried the next day at the hospital when she said it had moved to minus one station. I thought he had gotten lower, but yeah... guess I still don't know everything about birthin' babies even after almost three of them. Whoops.
Now I know, though! Minus three is good! Still low for only thirty one weeks of pregnancy, but much better than zero station, so it seems the bedrest is actually accomplishing something, and man does that make me feel good. When you're literally doing nothing productive and people keep saying, "Your job is to cook that baby!" it makes you feel pretty productive after all when the lying around has in fact caused some progress in the situation. I'm feeling vastly better about my odds of having a term or very nearly term baby after all. In the hospital I was feeling very sad and scared about delivering seriously early and having a baby in the NICU and everything that would entail for our whole family. I know it still would've probably been fine in the end, but obviously it's not what you HOPE for, and I'm so happy that things are looking more encouraging in terms of my making it to at least thirty six weeks. In classic pregnant mood swing fashion, I've gone from always-on-the-verge-of-tears to super-perky! just from the relief of that doctor's visit.
So! Now that my brain has silenced it's constant monologue of, "OMG you're going to have a preemie and he's going to have problems and be sick and it's going to be YOUR FAULT because of your pitiful lazy cervix and because of the fact that you chose to have two d and c's and weaken it even further and...." ETC, well, now I'm free to think of ways to entertain myself for the next five weeks! In the last six days I've already read East of Eden (finally; I've tried and stopped like four different times now,) and The Help, so now I need fresh fodder. I'm not really a big TV person, unfortunately, but I do enjoy watching series, so I'd love for you all to tell me what YOU would be reading and watching if you had a whole month to do nothing else!
Now I know, though! Minus three is good! Still low for only thirty one weeks of pregnancy, but much better than zero station, so it seems the bedrest is actually accomplishing something, and man does that make me feel good. When you're literally doing nothing productive and people keep saying, "Your job is to cook that baby!" it makes you feel pretty productive after all when the lying around has in fact caused some progress in the situation. I'm feeling vastly better about my odds of having a term or very nearly term baby after all. In the hospital I was feeling very sad and scared about delivering seriously early and having a baby in the NICU and everything that would entail for our whole family. I know it still would've probably been fine in the end, but obviously it's not what you HOPE for, and I'm so happy that things are looking more encouraging in terms of my making it to at least thirty six weeks. In classic pregnant mood swing fashion, I've gone from always-on-the-verge-of-tears to super-perky! just from the relief of that doctor's visit.
So! Now that my brain has silenced it's constant monologue of, "OMG you're going to have a preemie and he's going to have problems and be sick and it's going to be YOUR FAULT because of your pitiful lazy cervix and because of the fact that you chose to have two d and c's and weaken it even further and...." ETC, well, now I'm free to think of ways to entertain myself for the next five weeks! In the last six days I've already read East of Eden (finally; I've tried and stopped like four different times now,) and The Help, so now I need fresh fodder. I'm not really a big TV person, unfortunately, but I do enjoy watching series, so I'd love for you all to tell me what YOU would be reading and watching if you had a whole month to do nothing else!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Sidelined
Well, here I am. On the couch. For the next six weeks...
Yes, bedrest time has come again, kicked off by an overnight stay at the hospital. I went in for my thirty week appointment on Tuesday and, after ultrasound and exam revealed an extremely short, thinned, one cm. dilated cervix and a baby who has already wiggled his head into a minus one station (yes, that means he's like in the birth canal already) I was sent to the labor and delivery floor for fluids and observation. I had almost no contractions at all once I was lying down, so that plus a negative fetal fibronectin test convinced them that home bedrest should be sufficient to keep him in there at least a little longer. I'm also on Procardia now, which gives me bad headaches but otherwise has no side effects. Much better than brethine, which they were going to start until I BEGGED my doctor to let me see how I did with just Procardia first.
BTW, sorry if there are any typos or spelling issues in this post- I'm using the computer that we have hooked up to our TV in the den, but it's kind of far away from the couch, so I can BARELY see what I'm typing.
I'm feeling pretty down about all of it, to be honest, though now that I'm not up and around anymore I'm definitely realizing just how uncomfortable and tight my belly really was most of the time these last few weeks. So physically I suppose I feel some relief, despite the headaches and the hip and back pain from lying around 24/7. I'm going to get bedsore pretty soon, I think!
I just feel guilty that maybe if I had just taken it a little MORE easy he wouldn't be trying to escape my uterus already! And then partly I just feel jealous of people who can maintain a normal routine and their normal activities right up until delivery. Women whose cervixes actually do their jobs. 'Cause I know bedrest might sound sort of nice and relaxing and like every eight months' pregnant woman's dream, but let me tell you, the novelty wears off very quickly. Especially with two kids running around and climbing all over you and crying because you can't take them to the playground.
But, overall I'm very grateful. This is one of those (many many) times when it is infinitely helpful to live so near both of our families. From the morning I got sent from my doctor's office to the hospital, I've never had to worry about who was going to take care of the kids. We've not had to scramble to find a babysitter or a daycare that could take them, or a home health aid to stop in and bring me my meals and medicines. So, you know, this situation could certainly be a lot worse, and I want to thank everybody- especially Laura- for all the food and books and flowers and visits and babysitting! I hope you guys all know how much we appreciate you.
As for Baby Boy, well, I have another appointment on Monday, so we're just going to go from there. If I'm any further dilated or his head has somehow dropped even LOWER (seriously, how has he not just fallen out at this point?!) then I'll start the steroid shots for his lungs and we'll begin to brace ourselves for a delivery at least a few weeks earlier than planned. Though, you know, nothing's for sure! Let's remember those weeks of contractions and dilation with Eli that didn't really do anything until thirty nine weeks along!
Yes, bedrest time has come again, kicked off by an overnight stay at the hospital. I went in for my thirty week appointment on Tuesday and, after ultrasound and exam revealed an extremely short, thinned, one cm. dilated cervix and a baby who has already wiggled his head into a minus one station (yes, that means he's like in the birth canal already) I was sent to the labor and delivery floor for fluids and observation. I had almost no contractions at all once I was lying down, so that plus a negative fetal fibronectin test convinced them that home bedrest should be sufficient to keep him in there at least a little longer. I'm also on Procardia now, which gives me bad headaches but otherwise has no side effects. Much better than brethine, which they were going to start until I BEGGED my doctor to let me see how I did with just Procardia first.
BTW, sorry if there are any typos or spelling issues in this post- I'm using the computer that we have hooked up to our TV in the den, but it's kind of far away from the couch, so I can BARELY see what I'm typing.
I'm feeling pretty down about all of it, to be honest, though now that I'm not up and around anymore I'm definitely realizing just how uncomfortable and tight my belly really was most of the time these last few weeks. So physically I suppose I feel some relief, despite the headaches and the hip and back pain from lying around 24/7. I'm going to get bedsore pretty soon, I think!
I just feel guilty that maybe if I had just taken it a little MORE easy he wouldn't be trying to escape my uterus already! And then partly I just feel jealous of people who can maintain a normal routine and their normal activities right up until delivery. Women whose cervixes actually do their jobs. 'Cause I know bedrest might sound sort of nice and relaxing and like every eight months' pregnant woman's dream, but let me tell you, the novelty wears off very quickly. Especially with two kids running around and climbing all over you and crying because you can't take them to the playground.
But, overall I'm very grateful. This is one of those (many many) times when it is infinitely helpful to live so near both of our families. From the morning I got sent from my doctor's office to the hospital, I've never had to worry about who was going to take care of the kids. We've not had to scramble to find a babysitter or a daycare that could take them, or a home health aid to stop in and bring me my meals and medicines. So, you know, this situation could certainly be a lot worse, and I want to thank everybody- especially Laura- for all the food and books and flowers and visits and babysitting! I hope you guys all know how much we appreciate you.
As for Baby Boy, well, I have another appointment on Monday, so we're just going to go from there. If I'm any further dilated or his head has somehow dropped even LOWER (seriously, how has he not just fallen out at this point?!) then I'll start the steroid shots for his lungs and we'll begin to brace ourselves for a delivery at least a few weeks earlier than planned. Though, you know, nothing's for sure! Let's remember those weeks of contractions and dilation with Eli that didn't really do anything until thirty nine weeks along!
Friday, August 06, 2010
Jameson
Oh yeah! The name. I was surprised none of my lurking family members guessed it, since I thought we had discussed it a lot when contemplating a name for Eli. I guess we actually haven't brought it up at all this time to other people, but between us we were frequently using it as the middle name when we were trying things out on each other. (Um, trying NAMES out on each other. Gah.) As in, "How about Isaac Jameson?"
My reasons for not wanting to use it as a first name were two fold: first, James is Jim's given name, though he almost never goes by it. When we discussed it last time around, it was as a namesake thing without actually making the kid James Junior. A nod to the name, if you will. James Son. Using it on a second son just seems kind of... weird, though. Like maybe the first kid wasn't quite up to snuff so you hung on to it and hoped you'd have another boy? I don't know. But then I got to thinking about Eli's whole naming story and how he came to be called Elias and realized that he probably would totally understand why we passed on it with him once we told him the tale of throwing our name list completely out the window on the whim of his Percocet-addled mother an hour after his birth. (BTW, that link is the whole birth story, so if you just want the name part skip waaaay to the bottom.) But what do you guys think?
My other, not quite as important reason, was that in general I'm kind of opposed to last-names-as-first-names. It's just super trendy lately, and for the same reason we're avoiding the Aiden/Hayden/Jaden/Braden/Kaden sound, we had agreed to try to avoid surnames. HOWEVER, this particular surname wouldn't just be chosen randomly because we think it sounds cool, it would be because it actually means something. Also, I really like all the nicknames for it, which matters a lot to me.
But back to the naming a second son in honor of his father thing: is it weird, or am I being weird and over thinking it?
EDIT: It would be pronounced Jame-is-son, not, like, "James' Son," just to clarify.
My reasons for not wanting to use it as a first name were two fold: first, James is Jim's given name, though he almost never goes by it. When we discussed it last time around, it was as a namesake thing without actually making the kid James Junior. A nod to the name, if you will. James Son. Using it on a second son just seems kind of... weird, though. Like maybe the first kid wasn't quite up to snuff so you hung on to it and hoped you'd have another boy? I don't know. But then I got to thinking about Eli's whole naming story and how he came to be called Elias and realized that he probably would totally understand why we passed on it with him once we told him the tale of throwing our name list completely out the window on the whim of his Percocet-addled mother an hour after his birth. (BTW, that link is the whole birth story, so if you just want the name part skip waaaay to the bottom.) But what do you guys think?
My other, not quite as important reason, was that in general I'm kind of opposed to last-names-as-first-names. It's just super trendy lately, and for the same reason we're avoiding the Aiden/Hayden/Jaden/Braden/Kaden sound, we had agreed to try to avoid surnames. HOWEVER, this particular surname wouldn't just be chosen randomly because we think it sounds cool, it would be because it actually means something. Also, I really like all the nicknames for it, which matters a lot to me.
But back to the naming a second son in honor of his father thing: is it weird, or am I being weird and over thinking it?
EDIT: It would be pronounced Jame-is-son, not, like, "James' Son," just to clarify.
Thursday, August 05, 2010
You Win Some, You Lose Some
Things I am good at: attempting to do fun stuff with the kids.
Things I am bad at: fully thinking through all that will be involved when doing said fun stuff with kids.
Example One: Addy loves painting, so every month or so I've been getting fabric painting crafts for her, which she LOVES. So far we've done pillowcases, aprons, t-shirts, and a bib and a couple of newborn hats for the baby. So, you know, it's been several times here, that I've gone through the process of setting up for this craft. And yet I haven't once remembered that I need to procure CARDBOARD to keep the paint off the table, and that fabric paint actually STAINS so I need to have her wear grubby clothes or no shirt at all. Also: I need to buy something fabric paint appropriate to put the paint on, since it has stained and ruined two of our plastic kid plates already. Other people might have learned the lesson that fabric paint works differently than acrylic and get the proper supplies. Other people will just repeatedly wander around their house trying to find any scrap of cardboard they can to cobble together a disposable paint palette.
Example Two: I always forget to pack food for us when we go to playgrounds! This is more just a general failure, but today's example is particularly spectacular. This morning we went to a spray park with the kids' cousins. We didn't get there until almost eleven, so it seems it would've been obvious to anyone else who has kid experience that a lunch or at least a snack would be a required thing to pack, right up there with water, sunscreen and towels. But I didn't even think of it. Luckily Jim had gone home for lunch, and stopped by the park to bring us deli meat, cheese and crackers so I wouldn't pass out dead from hunger. The kids of course were so busy playing they hadn't even mentioned food, but I was beginning to shake and sweat from low blood sugar. Apparently I need to make a sign on the door that I will have to look at every time I walk out of it: DEAR DIMWIT, PREGNANT LADIES AND LITTLE KIDS NEED TO EAT FREQUENTLY. DO YOU HAVE A SNACK WITH YOU?
Things I am bad at: fully thinking through all that will be involved when doing said fun stuff with kids.
Example One: Addy loves painting, so every month or so I've been getting fabric painting crafts for her, which she LOVES. So far we've done pillowcases, aprons, t-shirts, and a bib and a couple of newborn hats for the baby. So, you know, it's been several times here, that I've gone through the process of setting up for this craft. And yet I haven't once remembered that I need to procure CARDBOARD to keep the paint off the table, and that fabric paint actually STAINS so I need to have her wear grubby clothes or no shirt at all. Also: I need to buy something fabric paint appropriate to put the paint on, since it has stained and ruined two of our plastic kid plates already. Other people might have learned the lesson that fabric paint works differently than acrylic and get the proper supplies. Other people will just repeatedly wander around their house trying to find any scrap of cardboard they can to cobble together a disposable paint palette.
Example Two: I always forget to pack food for us when we go to playgrounds! This is more just a general failure, but today's example is particularly spectacular. This morning we went to a spray park with the kids' cousins. We didn't get there until almost eleven, so it seems it would've been obvious to anyone else who has kid experience that a lunch or at least a snack would be a required thing to pack, right up there with water, sunscreen and towels. But I didn't even think of it. Luckily Jim had gone home for lunch, and stopped by the park to bring us deli meat, cheese and crackers so I wouldn't pass out dead from hunger. The kids of course were so busy playing they hadn't even mentioned food, but I was beginning to shake and sweat from low blood sugar. Apparently I need to make a sign on the door that I will have to look at every time I walk out of it: DEAR DIMWIT, PREGNANT LADIES AND LITTLE KIDS NEED TO EAT FREQUENTLY. DO YOU HAVE A SNACK WITH YOU?
Monday, August 02, 2010
Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens
I've been finding myself noticing a lot of little happy things lately, but then falling into long periods of GRUMP in between, mainly because of the heat and the fact that my belly is now so big and hard that things like trimming my toenails or shaving my legs have become arduous tasks requiring painful contortion and muscle cramps. But overall, I know (in mah head!) that things are good right now, so I thought I'd just document that here. So I can refer to it the next time I get huffy and exasperated because my belly button has popped out and every time the baby's limbs move over my navel area it hurts in the weirdest, most irritating way but that's not exactly something that elicits the same sympathy that, say, back pain or contractions would. Um, anyways! On to the happy things list!
-My mom found a set of five really nice deck chairs, all fully reclining, plus two footrests and a glass-topped table, for twenty five dollars at a yard sale! That's twenty five dollars for the whole set, you guys! And she GAVE IT TO US! So now our deck has something on it besides an eye-gouging assortment of plastic toys! And I have somewhere to lay in the sun with my feet up!
-My mom also bought me, as an early baby gift, the Arm's Reach mini cosleeper that I have been eyeballing ever since Eli was born. (Sorry no link- for some reason I couldn't get their website to come up.) I am so, so pleased about this thing, you guys. It is such a nice neutral color and will look so... unobtrusive, I guess is the word, in whatever room it happens to be used in. Not to mention it's so COMPACT and PRACTICAL and also so unfussy. What is it with most bassinets being so dang frilly? I mean, I like me some fanciness and am hardly a modern decor type person, but even I have a problem with most of the bassinets I see.
-My heartburn, which was bothering me on a daily basis for months, has only been popping up occasionally the last few weeks. Unfortunately this is probably because the baby seems to have "dropped" already, which is obviously not on the happy list, but it's still nice not to be in pain after every meal.
-My hips have also been remarkably painless and cooperative lately. I DID throw my back out today lifting Eli into a shopping cart, but it still hurts way less than the hip/sciatic thing does.
-Our enormous backyard has a sizable portion that was fenced off in a big square, but the fence was kind of rickety and unstained and we have never really done anything with the inside of it other than to store firewood, except one year when we halfheartedly tended a veggie garden in part of it. This summer it's been TOTALLY ignored and was basically an overgrown weed garden until last week, when Jim ripped all the weeds out by hand and then began taking the fence itself down. All that's left now is the posts, which will certainly be a pain to dig out but oh my gosh, I am so excited for how much it's opening up the yard! There's still some clearing out of brush-type stuff to be done, and then some grass seed planting of course, so it won't really look nice until next year. But I'm just excited to have something being done with it, since we obviously didn't need to have that area fenced off. We kept thinking we were going to do all this elaborate stuff (gardening, fountains, kids' play area, etc.) but the facts are: 1. The kids already have tons of play area with the deck and the yard, and 2. We are not elaborate landscape/gardening type of people. All we really want is a big yard to play ball in. So more grassy area and less maintenance is better for us.
-I recently found a really cool piece of art for our living room. I'd been wanting something a little more colorful and lot less ornate on this particular wall for awhile, but I couldn't find anything at all I liked that wouldn't require completely redecorating the rest of the room. Which I DID NOT want to do. So I bought it as an early birthday present... for myself, and changed a couple of other little things. Voila! More color, less formality. But not drastically different or requiring new furniture or paint color or anything crazy. Success!
-I think we may have hit upon a name for the baby that we both feel solid about. At least I do, more than I did about any of the other ideas. It's actually a name we talked about a lot for Eli, and it's always been a probable candidate as a middle name for this current boy. Can anyone guess what it is, and why I originally felt iffy about using it as a first name for this baby?
-My mom found a set of five really nice deck chairs, all fully reclining, plus two footrests and a glass-topped table, for twenty five dollars at a yard sale! That's twenty five dollars for the whole set, you guys! And she GAVE IT TO US! So now our deck has something on it besides an eye-gouging assortment of plastic toys! And I have somewhere to lay in the sun with my feet up!
-My mom also bought me, as an early baby gift, the Arm's Reach mini cosleeper that I have been eyeballing ever since Eli was born. (Sorry no link- for some reason I couldn't get their website to come up.) I am so, so pleased about this thing, you guys. It is such a nice neutral color and will look so... unobtrusive, I guess is the word, in whatever room it happens to be used in. Not to mention it's so COMPACT and PRACTICAL and also so unfussy. What is it with most bassinets being so dang frilly? I mean, I like me some fanciness and am hardly a modern decor type person, but even I have a problem with most of the bassinets I see.
-My heartburn, which was bothering me on a daily basis for months, has only been popping up occasionally the last few weeks. Unfortunately this is probably because the baby seems to have "dropped" already, which is obviously not on the happy list, but it's still nice not to be in pain after every meal.
-My hips have also been remarkably painless and cooperative lately. I DID throw my back out today lifting Eli into a shopping cart, but it still hurts way less than the hip/sciatic thing does.
-Our enormous backyard has a sizable portion that was fenced off in a big square, but the fence was kind of rickety and unstained and we have never really done anything with the inside of it other than to store firewood, except one year when we halfheartedly tended a veggie garden in part of it. This summer it's been TOTALLY ignored and was basically an overgrown weed garden until last week, when Jim ripped all the weeds out by hand and then began taking the fence itself down. All that's left now is the posts, which will certainly be a pain to dig out but oh my gosh, I am so excited for how much it's opening up the yard! There's still some clearing out of brush-type stuff to be done, and then some grass seed planting of course, so it won't really look nice until next year. But I'm just excited to have something being done with it, since we obviously didn't need to have that area fenced off. We kept thinking we were going to do all this elaborate stuff (gardening, fountains, kids' play area, etc.) but the facts are: 1. The kids already have tons of play area with the deck and the yard, and 2. We are not elaborate landscape/gardening type of people. All we really want is a big yard to play ball in. So more grassy area and less maintenance is better for us.
-I recently found a really cool piece of art for our living room. I'd been wanting something a little more colorful and lot less ornate on this particular wall for awhile, but I couldn't find anything at all I liked that wouldn't require completely redecorating the rest of the room. Which I DID NOT want to do. So I bought it as an early birthday present... for myself, and changed a couple of other little things. Voila! More color, less formality. But not drastically different or requiring new furniture or paint color or anything crazy. Success!
-I think we may have hit upon a name for the baby that we both feel solid about. At least I do, more than I did about any of the other ideas. It's actually a name we talked about a lot for Eli, and it's always been a probable candidate as a middle name for this current boy. Can anyone guess what it is, and why I originally felt iffy about using it as a first name for this baby?
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Art and Ultrasounds
So, two things: first, a parenting question. How does one delicately go about disposing of the ten to twenty pictures, many of them consisting largely of a few dots on an otherwise blank sheet of scratch paper, produced by their offspring each week? Certainly I save the good ones, but I literally cannot save every single picture from every single Princess coloring book, nor can I frame and cherish every single blurry watercolor, no matter how much effort and pride is involved in its production. The few times I've been found out throwing things away there was much crying and wounded feelings about it, so I've resorted to saving everything in a big pile and then quietly doing away with stuff in the dark of the night when everyone's tucked into bed. This feels sort of sneaky and wrong and not-nice-mother-ish, but what am I supposed to do? Is it ok to continue to let the kids THINK that everything is being saved when in fact much of it is meeting The Big Trash Compactor In The Sky?
The other thing is a doctor's appointment update. The good: baby is measuring about a week ahead for his gestational age, and weighs almost three pounds. That makes me feel good, 'cause my others were always about a week behind where they should have been, growth wise. (Also makes me feel better about how HUGE I am already!) The other good is that I finally got to see the OB that I slightly prefer, and she agreed to be on call for my delivery! I don't dislike the other doc, but this other one is known for being pretty laid back and hands off when it comes to the birthing part, and the nurses at the hospital (as well as my doula!) all said she was the best for water birth, so obviously I was hoping to have her. The other doctor's nice enough and all, but much more traditional in her style of "actively managing" delivery. At least that's what I've gathered.
The bad is that my cervix is shorter yet. It's now 2.9 cm, when a normal, "safe" length is between 4 and 6. So I'm not on bedrest YET, but I'm to continue with my modified bed rest rules, the ones I've kinda given to myself (basically lying down whenever I feel more than one contraction or feel the baby's head starting to engage, drinking water, taking deep breaths, etc) and then we're reevaluating in two weeks based on where my cervix length/dilation is then. If I get sidelined then, that will be two weeks earlier than with the other two... Six weeks of bedrest somehow sounds much more depressing than four!
So keep your fingers crossed that I can be allowed to stay up for at least another month and that the baby doesn't come until he's fully cooked!
The other thing is a doctor's appointment update. The good: baby is measuring about a week ahead for his gestational age, and weighs almost three pounds. That makes me feel good, 'cause my others were always about a week behind where they should have been, growth wise. (Also makes me feel better about how HUGE I am already!) The other good is that I finally got to see the OB that I slightly prefer, and she agreed to be on call for my delivery! I don't dislike the other doc, but this other one is known for being pretty laid back and hands off when it comes to the birthing part, and the nurses at the hospital (as well as my doula!) all said she was the best for water birth, so obviously I was hoping to have her. The other doctor's nice enough and all, but much more traditional in her style of "actively managing" delivery. At least that's what I've gathered.
The bad is that my cervix is shorter yet. It's now 2.9 cm, when a normal, "safe" length is between 4 and 6. So I'm not on bedrest YET, but I'm to continue with my modified bed rest rules, the ones I've kinda given to myself (basically lying down whenever I feel more than one contraction or feel the baby's head starting to engage, drinking water, taking deep breaths, etc) and then we're reevaluating in two weeks based on where my cervix length/dilation is then. If I get sidelined then, that will be two weeks earlier than with the other two... Six weeks of bedrest somehow sounds much more depressing than four!
So keep your fingers crossed that I can be allowed to stay up for at least another month and that the baby doesn't come until he's fully cooked!
Friday, July 23, 2010
Well Isn't That Special
WHOOPS! Seems as though I haven't even turned my computer on in a week! How did that happen? Well, a combination of things: never ending illnesses, heat so stifling that just being near a hot computer was enough to start me sweating, a lot of Braxton-hicks-ing because of all the heat, and subsequently a lot of lying on the couch and taking it easy, and therefore nothing really HAPPENING that was worth blogging, unless my kids setting some kind of world record for marathon Nick Jr. watching is worth noting. MOTHER OF THE YEAR, these last few days, let me tell you. But if all that lounging and laziness has kept me from preterm labor (and it seems it has, so far) well, I call it successful parenting!
But now there is something worth noting, because WHAT THE WHAT?! According to that little ticker thingie up there, it seems that in just under two hours I will be twenty eight weeks pregnant. Entering the third trimester. You guys, there is no trimester after that. Then there is a baby, an actual human baby that lives in our house and sleeps beside my bed and nurses on me and smells like heaven (and also sometimes like puke.)
And it's so strange, because it seems like just a month or two ago it was my twenty fifth birthday, and I was miserably sick with miscarriage-inducing drugs prescribed to help my body let go of an already gone baby- a third already gone baby- and my husband and family had thrown me a surprise party to cheer me up. Which it did, it did, but it still felt like I was just never going to make it to being healthily pregnant ever again. And that was the only birthday present I really wanted, just a promise that I WOULD have a real live baby again someday.
Now I think I will. Even if this baby came tomorrow (and he'd better not) chances are he'd make it, and would one day be in a bassinet by my bed, nursing and all. Or bottle feeding, but who CARES because he would be there, and he would be ours. Speaking of OURS, can I just say that is so fun being pregnant this time with two little kids in the house? And then clarify that I'm actually not being sarcastic?
For one thing, time goes WAAAY faster when you have other people to think about besides your own bloated self. For another, it really is so fun to see things through kids' eyes. Hearing them talk about the baby, and to the baby, sharing their name ideas, singing him songs, picking out little presents, telling me all the ways they're going to "help" take care of him... It gives me a feeling I don't even have a name for, because I've never felt it before. Even when I was pregnant with Eli, Addy was just young enough that she really didn't understand anything until we brought him home. With this baby, they both totally get it, and it's just... I would explain it like this, I guess: I'm not just having Jim's and my baby, this time. I'm having a sibling, a little brother. I'm making our family more complete.
But now there is something worth noting, because WHAT THE WHAT?! According to that little ticker thingie up there, it seems that in just under two hours I will be twenty eight weeks pregnant. Entering the third trimester. You guys, there is no trimester after that. Then there is a baby, an actual human baby that lives in our house and sleeps beside my bed and nurses on me and smells like heaven (and also sometimes like puke.)
And it's so strange, because it seems like just a month or two ago it was my twenty fifth birthday, and I was miserably sick with miscarriage-inducing drugs prescribed to help my body let go of an already gone baby- a third already gone baby- and my husband and family had thrown me a surprise party to cheer me up. Which it did, it did, but it still felt like I was just never going to make it to being healthily pregnant ever again. And that was the only birthday present I really wanted, just a promise that I WOULD have a real live baby again someday.
Now I think I will. Even if this baby came tomorrow (and he'd better not) chances are he'd make it, and would one day be in a bassinet by my bed, nursing and all. Or bottle feeding, but who CARES because he would be there, and he would be ours. Speaking of OURS, can I just say that is so fun being pregnant this time with two little kids in the house? And then clarify that I'm actually not being sarcastic?
For one thing, time goes WAAAY faster when you have other people to think about besides your own bloated self. For another, it really is so fun to see things through kids' eyes. Hearing them talk about the baby, and to the baby, sharing their name ideas, singing him songs, picking out little presents, telling me all the ways they're going to "help" take care of him... It gives me a feeling I don't even have a name for, because I've never felt it before. Even when I was pregnant with Eli, Addy was just young enough that she really didn't understand anything until we brought him home. With this baby, they both totally get it, and it's just... I would explain it like this, I guess: I'm not just having Jim's and my baby, this time. I'm having a sibling, a little brother. I'm making our family more complete.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
From The Quarantined
Welp, now Jim and I are sick too. No fevers, but we have coughs, congestion, body aches, the whole bag, as do the kids. Literally the day their temperatures started running normal again the sneezing and hysterics of "noses not working" began, so now they've pretty much been sick a solid week. Neither of them are eating well, and I'm so hot I never feel like eating, either, until I'm so hungry my blood sugar is plummeting. So not a lot of cooking is going on around here, is what I'm saying. That's kinda nice, I guess. Not nice: I'm not really a big cereal eater, but it turns out when you don't cook there's not much else to eat.
The kids are getting downright irate about still not feeling well. Addy, especially, keeps yelling at me that she doesn't NEED any medicine because she absolutely IS NOT sick anymore- this after having spent all night keeping me awake with her comings and goings to our bed, alternately moaning and SHOUTING about her stuffy nose and thrashing around in general misery. Eli is responding to his discomfort by being incredibly clinging, and, naturally, completely regressing in toilet training. We've missed several playdates and even a possible trip to the cottage, too, so there's definitely a feeling of sulk going around, adults included. Also: BOREDOM OMG.
I'd love to at least be doing nesting projects for baby, but since it's so hot and I'm trying hard to continue with my taking it easy mantra, not much heavy stuff is going on yet. Jim moved a dresser for me, and my mom kindly took literally twelve boxes of outgrown girl clothes to be stored in her basement, thus allowing me a little more freedom to rearrange toys and stuff (since the baby's nursery has been used the last year or so as a playroom/storage closet.) So it's mostly just a lot of pesky organizing of toys and clothes, really, but that's never my favorite part. I'm more of a scrubber and window washer and picture hanger type.
For me, though, the most worrisome thing still undone is the issue of the baby's NAME. The rest of the stuff, even if I find it mentally irritating, could all technically be done after the baby arrived and it wouldn't really hurt anything. Not like he'll be using the nursery for several months anyways. But the name! He has to have a name before we leave the hospital! And our list so far consists of pathetically few names, none of which I'm really in love with:
Wesley
Josiah
Ronin
I like them all, but I have my issues with them. Wesley is just not wowing me, as much as I like it and like the nickname Wes. Josiah I love, but I don't like the nicknames Jo or Josey for a boy- there's a girl at church named Josey already who's friends with Addy and it just seems like it'd be a little confusing. And Ronin is cool and unusual and all, but there are NO nicknames, likable or otherwise, and one of my caveats of naming has always been that there be a nickname option. So yeah... I know you can't help me clean out my closets to make room to store the dress up clothes bin, but you can tell me your favorite boy names, right?
The kids are getting downright irate about still not feeling well. Addy, especially, keeps yelling at me that she doesn't NEED any medicine because she absolutely IS NOT sick anymore- this after having spent all night keeping me awake with her comings and goings to our bed, alternately moaning and SHOUTING about her stuffy nose and thrashing around in general misery. Eli is responding to his discomfort by being incredibly clinging, and, naturally, completely regressing in toilet training. We've missed several playdates and even a possible trip to the cottage, too, so there's definitely a feeling of sulk going around, adults included. Also: BOREDOM OMG.
I'd love to at least be doing nesting projects for baby, but since it's so hot and I'm trying hard to continue with my taking it easy mantra, not much heavy stuff is going on yet. Jim moved a dresser for me, and my mom kindly took literally twelve boxes of outgrown girl clothes to be stored in her basement, thus allowing me a little more freedom to rearrange toys and stuff (since the baby's nursery has been used the last year or so as a playroom/storage closet.) So it's mostly just a lot of pesky organizing of toys and clothes, really, but that's never my favorite part. I'm more of a scrubber and window washer and picture hanger type.
For me, though, the most worrisome thing still undone is the issue of the baby's NAME. The rest of the stuff, even if I find it mentally irritating, could all technically be done after the baby arrived and it wouldn't really hurt anything. Not like he'll be using the nursery for several months anyways. But the name! He has to have a name before we leave the hospital! And our list so far consists of pathetically few names, none of which I'm really in love with:
Wesley
Josiah
Ronin
I like them all, but I have my issues with them. Wesley is just not wowing me, as much as I like it and like the nickname Wes. Josiah I love, but I don't like the nicknames Jo or Josey for a boy- there's a girl at church named Josey already who's friends with Addy and it just seems like it'd be a little confusing. And Ronin is cool and unusual and all, but there are NO nicknames, likable or otherwise, and one of my caveats of naming has always been that there be a nickname option. So yeah... I know you can't help me clean out my closets to make room to store the dress up clothes bin, but you can tell me your favorite boy names, right?
Friday, July 09, 2010
Fever Pitch
So I think I already mentioned how much my kids currently love anything Spider Man related. I know, I know- they're kinda young and those movies are kind of scary and adult and HEY, IT WASN'T MY IDEA. They seem completely undisturbed by any scariness, however, and are instead fascinated with the idea of "good guys" and "bad guys." I still feel hesitant even about introducing that concept, vague as I sometimes find the lines between good and bad to be. It's like this quote from "The Guleg Archipelago" by Alexander Solzhenitsyn (which I copied down with great earnestness at age seventeen, but still find to be just as piercing as I did then): "If there were only evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds and it were only necessary to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"
BUT I digress... We were watching Spider Man 2 tonight over pizza, in a great festival of relief at having brought Addy's temperature down from its terrifying peak of 105.2. Seriously, I had called the hospital's hotline only to hear sobering words like "seizure," and I was THISCLOSE to snatching her to my chest and running her to the ER on my own two feet if she didn't cool off within five minutes. But she did, thank God, and so the only place to which I hurried off was CVS, to get Motrin and Tylenol and Pedialyte and a giant bag of candy (in lieu of a giant bottle of WINE obviously.)
When I got home there was pizza and suddenly normal looking, alert-eyed children asking for Spider Man show!!! and adults sagging with exhaustion and relief, so, obviously we just ate the pizza and watched the Spider Man. And I got to thinking how much I love the music in those movies- it's seriously about half the appeal of them, for me. I wandered out to the computer to look up some of the music videos on YouTube (I actually already own the soundtrack) and the kids of course followed, each of them wanting to see the video that corresponded to their favorite song from the soundtrack. So here they are, Addy's, Eli's, and my favorite songs: can you guess whose is whose?
BUT I digress... We were watching Spider Man 2 tonight over pizza, in a great festival of relief at having brought Addy's temperature down from its terrifying peak of 105.2. Seriously, I had called the hospital's hotline only to hear sobering words like "seizure," and I was THISCLOSE to snatching her to my chest and running her to the ER on my own two feet if she didn't cool off within five minutes. But she did, thank God, and so the only place to which I hurried off was CVS, to get Motrin and Tylenol and Pedialyte and a giant bag of candy (in lieu of a giant bottle of WINE obviously.)
When I got home there was pizza and suddenly normal looking, alert-eyed children asking for Spider Man show!!! and adults sagging with exhaustion and relief, so, obviously we just ate the pizza and watched the Spider Man. And I got to thinking how much I love the music in those movies- it's seriously about half the appeal of them, for me. I wandered out to the computer to look up some of the music videos on YouTube (I actually already own the soundtrack) and the kids of course followed, each of them wanting to see the video that corresponded to their favorite song from the soundtrack. So here they are, Addy's, Eli's, and my favorite songs: can you guess whose is whose?
Balanced
The good: It finally rained. Like, poured down rain, all night on and off. The air no longer feels like a Death Cloud.
The bad: The rain apparently was violent enough to drill a hole in our roof, as I discovered a leak coming down the wall of our linen closet (ALL OVER THE LINENS) at about eleven last night.
The good: I happened to be rooting around in there to find a clean pillow for Eli because he had completely soaked his through with sweat when his fever broke after going to bed. He woke up crying incoherently that he was all wet, and I at first thought he meant his pull-up, until I realized he was literally laying in a puddle of sweat. Yikes. But anyways, I had just washed all of our sheets a few days ago, so it was unlikely I would even have opened that closet door for another week if I hadn't needed to get clean bedding for him in the middle of the night like that.
The bad: The fevers are still with us, though at least they're being controlled with Tylenol. They just spike back up every four hours, the highest recorded temp being 103. I always get a little freaked out by fevers. Kids act so WEIRD sometimes when they're feverish! It feels wrong not to be rushing them to the hospital to make sure they don't slip into a delirious coma.
The good: I'm still not sick, despite having sweaty sick kids crawling all over me and sleeping in my bed.
The bad: Adelay threw up grape juice all over the couch and the throw pillow this morning.
The good: At least it wasn't the white couch.
The bad: The rain apparently was violent enough to drill a hole in our roof, as I discovered a leak coming down the wall of our linen closet (ALL OVER THE LINENS) at about eleven last night.
The good: I happened to be rooting around in there to find a clean pillow for Eli because he had completely soaked his through with sweat when his fever broke after going to bed. He woke up crying incoherently that he was all wet, and I at first thought he meant his pull-up, until I realized he was literally laying in a puddle of sweat. Yikes. But anyways, I had just washed all of our sheets a few days ago, so it was unlikely I would even have opened that closet door for another week if I hadn't needed to get clean bedding for him in the middle of the night like that.
The bad: The fevers are still with us, though at least they're being controlled with Tylenol. They just spike back up every four hours, the highest recorded temp being 103. I always get a little freaked out by fevers. Kids act so WEIRD sometimes when they're feverish! It feels wrong not to be rushing them to the hospital to make sure they don't slip into a delirious coma.
The good: I'm still not sick, despite having sweaty sick kids crawling all over me and sleeping in my bed.
The bad: Adelay threw up grape juice all over the couch and the throw pillow this morning.
The good: At least it wasn't the white couch.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
This Heat Rash Is Here To Stay
Oh, where to begin? Well. It's hot here! It's really really hot. Yesterday it hit ninety eight degrees at one point. (My OB: "Really just lay around and take it easy this week while it's so humid. No yard work, no heavy housework." Me: "Oh ok. I guess if I MUST!") It's bearable, as long as you just stay inside or in the water. Being in hot cars is the worst, really, so I kind of just don't want to go anywhere. We were supposed to have a playdate at a little public spray park today, which I was super excited for because I was all prepared to bust out the maternity bathing suit and get in there myself. Alas, both kids were up all night with pretty high fevers, so that plan got scratched. Instead we are laying around on the couches eating ice cream for lunch and watching Spider Man for the thirtieth time since Eli first developed his boy-crush on Peter Parker. I'm starting to hate the sound of Tobey Maguire's voice.
Eli has entered the love-of-costume-wearing phase that Addy went through around age three. The one in which I let her wear her Tinkerbell outfit everywhere because... I dunno. It just didn't seem like a hill to die on, and she DID make a good Tinkerbell. Eli has a Spiderman ensemble that is ever so slightly more raggedy than Addy's costume, consisting of dingy red cotton shorts, hand me down Spiderman slippers, a red Spiderman baseball cap, and a pretty awesome Spiderman shirt complete with WEBS under the arms. The two messages it conveys are: RED, and SPIDERMAN RULES ALL. Anyways, he wants to wear it every day, so I'm trying to remember to wash it every night and have it at the ready for him. I mean, what the heck. It's not much effort to make a small kid so very, very happy. (Seems like he could reciprocate that mindset by pooping on his potty on a regular basis and thus make ME so very very happy, but, whatevs. Ingrate.)
Also! I forgot to say anything about my twenty four week appointment, but the ultrasound went really well. The tech kept laughing when she found out she was supposed to be checking for intrauterine growth restriction, and saying things like, "Um, yeah... he's definitely not growth restricted. Look at that big belly on him! Ha ha ha!" Which on the one hand is quite reassuring and on the other hand- how big is this kid going to be?! I've never actually had a baby that could be described as "on the large side," but those were the words I heard her say. Of course, she also said my cervix was "just barely long enough," so if that means possible preterm birth like with Addy, then I'm really glad that the baby's putting on weight quickly!
So that was a good visit, but then I got to missing them- it HAD been a whole week and a half since I last saw them, and I just worry that they're not getting enough of our money- so I went back yesterday so they could check out a weird, painful lump in my neck that I naturally assumed to be a blood clot or a tumor, but which is in fact just a swollen lymph node. I, uh, didn't actually know there were lymph nodes in your neck. I thought it was just armpits. Wow. Guess I have a ways to go before I realize that dream of being a CNM...
Anyways, there was also fluid in my ear, so they put me on antibiotics to nip what probably would have been the beginnings of an ear infection in the bud. I had been feeling a little dizzy on and off, actually, but just chalked it up to the heat until my neck started hurting. So yeah, this is one occasion where I don't feel dumb for having gone to the doctor, because, ha ha! That would have been super cool if I had gotten another inner ear infection/severe vertigo complete with vomiting while pregnant, huh? Ha ha ha! (That's me laughing crazily because seriously I think I would have gone slap out of my mind. I am not that strong, at least not when it comes to vomiting.)
Eli has entered the love-of-costume-wearing phase that Addy went through around age three. The one in which I let her wear her Tinkerbell outfit everywhere because... I dunno. It just didn't seem like a hill to die on, and she DID make a good Tinkerbell. Eli has a Spiderman ensemble that is ever so slightly more raggedy than Addy's costume, consisting of dingy red cotton shorts, hand me down Spiderman slippers, a red Spiderman baseball cap, and a pretty awesome Spiderman shirt complete with WEBS under the arms. The two messages it conveys are: RED, and SPIDERMAN RULES ALL. Anyways, he wants to wear it every day, so I'm trying to remember to wash it every night and have it at the ready for him. I mean, what the heck. It's not much effort to make a small kid so very, very happy. (Seems like he could reciprocate that mindset by pooping on his potty on a regular basis and thus make ME so very very happy, but, whatevs. Ingrate.)
Also! I forgot to say anything about my twenty four week appointment, but the ultrasound went really well. The tech kept laughing when she found out she was supposed to be checking for intrauterine growth restriction, and saying things like, "Um, yeah... he's definitely not growth restricted. Look at that big belly on him! Ha ha ha!" Which on the one hand is quite reassuring and on the other hand- how big is this kid going to be?! I've never actually had a baby that could be described as "on the large side," but those were the words I heard her say. Of course, she also said my cervix was "just barely long enough," so if that means possible preterm birth like with Addy, then I'm really glad that the baby's putting on weight quickly!
So that was a good visit, but then I got to missing them- it HAD been a whole week and a half since I last saw them, and I just worry that they're not getting enough of our money- so I went back yesterday so they could check out a weird, painful lump in my neck that I naturally assumed to be a blood clot or a tumor, but which is in fact just a swollen lymph node. I, uh, didn't actually know there were lymph nodes in your neck. I thought it was just armpits. Wow. Guess I have a ways to go before I realize that dream of being a CNM...
Anyways, there was also fluid in my ear, so they put me on antibiotics to nip what probably would have been the beginnings of an ear infection in the bud. I had been feeling a little dizzy on and off, actually, but just chalked it up to the heat until my neck started hurting. So yeah, this is one occasion where I don't feel dumb for having gone to the doctor, because, ha ha! That would have been super cool if I had gotten another inner ear infection/severe vertigo complete with vomiting while pregnant, huh? Ha ha ha! (That's me laughing crazily because seriously I think I would have gone slap out of my mind. I am not that strong, at least not when it comes to vomiting.)
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Two Things- No, Three!
*Today in the library I saw a woman with a t-shirt that said, "Yep, I Got An Epidural!" That's all. And I could not stop laughing. Um, inwardly, obv. Because as much as I am proud of and pleased with my two birth experiences and hoping for another even MORE "natural" birth, I totally DO NOT CARE how anyone else wants to give birth. I may personally find the numbness and lack of mobility and potential side effects kind of off putting, as re: Teh Epidural, but if someone else finds grueling pain and breathing exercises and potential screaming in public kind of off putting, well, I totally get that, too. I really really do. So if you want your birth to involve a needle in your spine, dude, more power to ya. And I do not automatically assume you must be misinformed/ignorant/selfish/wimpy, either. I personally happened to have relatively easy births, as births go, and if I had to, say, endure ten hours of back labor, AFTER my water had broken and maybe after two or three sleepless days, I'd probably be asking for drugs too. We're all our own unique birthing snowflakes! Just wanted to be clear on that, since my own labor is coming (frighteningly) soon and then you'll probably be inundated with lots of doula/waterbirth talk. :)
*My dishwasher is starting to really make me mad. Besides not sanitizing and not having a disposal feature and the fact that a bunch of the separating prongs are broken off, it basically just doesn't dry anything that's plastic anymore. (Yes, we eat off of plastic sometimes. And store our food in plastic. But I don't HEAT food in it anymore! Baby steps, guys!) Anyways, yeah, it takes me twice as long as it used to to unload dishes because I have to stand there with a towel and DRY THEM BY HAND. So in case, theoretically, we were to replace it, anyone have any recommendations of brands/models of dishwashers?
And yes, my middle class sob stories are enough to bring a tear to your eye, I know. But here! This is for you, Anonymous Commenter #19 from two posts ago! At least I HAVE a dishwasher! And also, some women have to go to work and be GONE from their appliances all day! At least I don't have to pay some STRANGER to unload my dishwasher while I'm slaving away in an unfulfilling job all day! And gosh, at least I HAVE dishes! I could be eating off plantain leaves in a jungle somewhere! And I have food to dirty those dishes! SOME people don't....
Oh wait! That's right; people don't READ blogs to hear others go on and on about how lucky they are and how grateful they are for every blessing in their lives! People blog/follow blogs because it is an outlet for emotions, a place to commiserate, to empathize and to know that other people really ARE going through the same craziness they are. If they wanted to feel guilty about their own emotions and impressed by the saintliness of others, they'd be reading Guideposts or Chicken Soup for the Martyr's Soul.
*My dishwasher is starting to really make me mad. Besides not sanitizing and not having a disposal feature and the fact that a bunch of the separating prongs are broken off, it basically just doesn't dry anything that's plastic anymore. (Yes, we eat off of plastic sometimes. And store our food in plastic. But I don't HEAT food in it anymore! Baby steps, guys!) Anyways, yeah, it takes me twice as long as it used to to unload dishes because I have to stand there with a towel and DRY THEM BY HAND. So in case, theoretically, we were to replace it, anyone have any recommendations of brands/models of dishwashers?
And yes, my middle class sob stories are enough to bring a tear to your eye, I know. But here! This is for you, Anonymous Commenter #19 from two posts ago! At least I HAVE a dishwasher! And also, some women have to go to work and be GONE from their appliances all day! At least I don't have to pay some STRANGER to unload my dishwasher while I'm slaving away in an unfulfilling job all day! And gosh, at least I HAVE dishes! I could be eating off plantain leaves in a jungle somewhere! And I have food to dirty those dishes! SOME people don't....
Oh wait! That's right; people don't READ blogs to hear others go on and on about how lucky they are and how grateful they are for every blessing in their lives! People blog/follow blogs because it is an outlet for emotions, a place to commiserate, to empathize and to know that other people really ARE going through the same craziness they are. If they wanted to feel guilty about their own emotions and impressed by the saintliness of others, they'd be reading Guideposts or Chicken Soup for the Martyr's Soul.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Not That You Wanted To Know This, But...
...I took the advise of several of you and midway through today, put the kid in a Pull Up. He'd already had one accident, and by the second, which was sudden and messy and running down his leg and onto the carpet AND the hardwood AND the bathmat oh dear Lord, I had had enough. I was also starting to wise up to the fact that maybe the stomach virus was NOT gone and now was not a good time to be working on Number Two Issues anyways.
Boy, was I right. Or should I say, you were right. It happened again during dinner, but at least this time, just as I started to feel my heart racing with the fight or flight response I always get before dealing with messy disasters, I remembered that lo! He was essentially wearing a diaper, and all I had to do was unsnap, wipe, and throw away. It felt like a downright LUXURY, I tell you.
And the fact that changing a diaper containing the results of a stomach virus could feel LUXURIOUS is something that has me a little concerned about how low I've fallen in this world. Next I'll be posting to let you know about the dee-lishus pizza remains I found in the neighbor's garbage! Score!
Boy, was I right. Or should I say, you were right. It happened again during dinner, but at least this time, just as I started to feel my heart racing with the fight or flight response I always get before dealing with messy disasters, I remembered that lo! He was essentially wearing a diaper, and all I had to do was unsnap, wipe, and throw away. It felt like a downright LUXURY, I tell you.
And the fact that changing a diaper containing the results of a stomach virus could feel LUXURIOUS is something that has me a little concerned about how low I've fallen in this world. Next I'll be posting to let you know about the dee-lishus pizza remains I found in the neighbor's garbage! Score!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Sometimes
There are afternoons when I dream of running away from my house so badly I can taste it. It's the worst on weekends, and I know this is something many moms complain of- there is no relaxation to look forward to at the end of the week, just more of the same, along with the added chaos of extra people and extra plans and messed up schedules and so, most likely, a messier house and even whinier children than during the rest of the week. Sometimes its fine, and its still fun, and I go with the flow...
And sometimes I am very nearly six months pregnant, and I am hungry all the time but then every time I eat I get heartburn. Or I am tired all the time but every time I lay down either the heartburn makes it impossible or my hips start screaming in protest no matter which side I lay on. And often the house is an unthinkable disaster, but either my own inward voice or another person starts scolding me when I try to clean and tidy it because I shouldn't be exerting too much. But the idea of living this way, with dishes and laundry and toys always threatening to overwhelm, is enough to make me sit down at the table and just weep in despair. Literally.
Also, sometimes a certain child is completely potty trained in one regard and not even close to being potty trained in another, more disgusting, regard, but it's too late to switch him back to diapers. And so, one waits, every day, to see when the inevitable mess will happen and just how bad it will be. After two or three weeks of this, including several out of town ventures, it will start to feel like you are just waiting to get BEATEN every day, and you and your husband are just taking turns volunteering for the abuse. Though, let's face it, more often than not it is going to be you. You are here. You are always always here.
You are here when in one single half hour, one kid poops his pants, another needs help on the toilet, poopy kid gets cleaned up and then decided to try to actually use the potty for its intended purpose, toilet kid CLOGS the toilet, poopy kid poops again, this time in proper receptacle, and you, while trying to lavish the appropriate amounts of praise for a Potty Success, realize you need to EMPTY that potty but that you first have to plunge the normal potty, all with a wide eyed and curious audience, and you yourself haven't even eaten breakfast yet and are beginning to want to eat less and less...
Sometimes you feel like if you hear a little voice yelling, or whining, or shrieking in panic "Hey Mommy!" one single more time you are going to cry. Sometimes you do cry, and are in fact crying as you tend to them (the need almost always involving someone needing something WIPED, of course) and the horrifying part is that no one even notices that you're crying. Partly you feel relieved that you haven't upset them, and partly this makes you want to cry even harder because you realize that you spend the bulk of your time with people who are basically oblivious to your needs and feelings. It never occurs to them that YOU might need to eat or sleep or use the bathroom, much less that you might be tired and in pain and overwhelmed.
Then your baby will stir in your belly and you feel so terrible that most of what this kid has heard and felt today from you is negative. You snapping, you sighing, you sniffling. Surely this cannot be a healthy way to gestate your child, but the problem is that it's the gestating itself that is making so much of your day to day life feel so daunting.
AND sometimes you flee to the computer as soon as both the kids are finally otherwise occupied and you hurriedly ramble out your current misery and then you feel the tiniest bit better, though still wobbly and weepy. You look around and still see a house whose every surface needs wiped and picked up. You know there's still a car seat cover that needs dried and reattached after being subjected to a Horrifying Accident last night, along with a multitude of normal laundry loads, and you know there are still plates and cups and random clumps of eggs and cheese and dirty napkins all over the kitchen. You also know that you're exhausted and should really just nap, but that when you tried to lay down with your daughter your cranky cranky hips made it impossible to do so.
And so. You will take a deep breath, and put on some music,and maybe eat a bag of peanut M and M's that were supposed to be your husband's but forget him because you snooze you lose and you will, as Swistle once put it, make that Journey of A Thousand Loads of Laundry that begins with a single paper towel. You will, pathetically, hope that someone somewhere is feeling sorry for you, just a little.
Edit: ...And sometimes you feel kind of bad about eating husband's M and M's, when he brings you home a bag with like TEN candy bars in it because he wasn't sure what you might like to make you feel better.
And sometimes I am very nearly six months pregnant, and I am hungry all the time but then every time I eat I get heartburn. Or I am tired all the time but every time I lay down either the heartburn makes it impossible or my hips start screaming in protest no matter which side I lay on. And often the house is an unthinkable disaster, but either my own inward voice or another person starts scolding me when I try to clean and tidy it because I shouldn't be exerting too much. But the idea of living this way, with dishes and laundry and toys always threatening to overwhelm, is enough to make me sit down at the table and just weep in despair. Literally.
Also, sometimes a certain child is completely potty trained in one regard and not even close to being potty trained in another, more disgusting, regard, but it's too late to switch him back to diapers. And so, one waits, every day, to see when the inevitable mess will happen and just how bad it will be. After two or three weeks of this, including several out of town ventures, it will start to feel like you are just waiting to get BEATEN every day, and you and your husband are just taking turns volunteering for the abuse. Though, let's face it, more often than not it is going to be you. You are here. You are always always here.
You are here when in one single half hour, one kid poops his pants, another needs help on the toilet, poopy kid gets cleaned up and then decided to try to actually use the potty for its intended purpose, toilet kid CLOGS the toilet, poopy kid poops again, this time in proper receptacle, and you, while trying to lavish the appropriate amounts of praise for a Potty Success, realize you need to EMPTY that potty but that you first have to plunge the normal potty, all with a wide eyed and curious audience, and you yourself haven't even eaten breakfast yet and are beginning to want to eat less and less...
Sometimes you feel like if you hear a little voice yelling, or whining, or shrieking in panic "Hey Mommy!" one single more time you are going to cry. Sometimes you do cry, and are in fact crying as you tend to them (the need almost always involving someone needing something WIPED, of course) and the horrifying part is that no one even notices that you're crying. Partly you feel relieved that you haven't upset them, and partly this makes you want to cry even harder because you realize that you spend the bulk of your time with people who are basically oblivious to your needs and feelings. It never occurs to them that YOU might need to eat or sleep or use the bathroom, much less that you might be tired and in pain and overwhelmed.
Then your baby will stir in your belly and you feel so terrible that most of what this kid has heard and felt today from you is negative. You snapping, you sighing, you sniffling. Surely this cannot be a healthy way to gestate your child, but the problem is that it's the gestating itself that is making so much of your day to day life feel so daunting.
AND sometimes you flee to the computer as soon as both the kids are finally otherwise occupied and you hurriedly ramble out your current misery and then you feel the tiniest bit better, though still wobbly and weepy. You look around and still see a house whose every surface needs wiped and picked up. You know there's still a car seat cover that needs dried and reattached after being subjected to a Horrifying Accident last night, along with a multitude of normal laundry loads, and you know there are still plates and cups and random clumps of eggs and cheese and dirty napkins all over the kitchen. You also know that you're exhausted and should really just nap, but that when you tried to lay down with your daughter your cranky cranky hips made it impossible to do so.
And so. You will take a deep breath, and put on some music,
Edit: ...And sometimes you feel kind of bad about eating husband's M and M's, when he brings you home a bag with like TEN candy bars in it because he wasn't sure what you might like to make you feel better.
Friday, June 25, 2010
FTLOG
Ok. Ok ok ok. So we got home from family reunion, which was lovely EXCEPT for falling into a river and spending the subsequent two hours with a bunch of wet, pissed off people whose lunches were floating upstream and EXCEPT for the part where Eli had Horrifying Accidents of a Solid Nature in his underpants about a gazillionty times in a relative's lovely, clean home. And we had one phone lost and one phone sort of clinging to life and four different keys to have made, and amazingly all of that got taken care of pretty quickly and smoothly and I was all, "Nice recovery, family unit!"
And then. And then in one single day: the phone that was valiantly soldiering on completely gave up the ghost, rendering it useless even for contact list retrieval (!!!); I brilliantly tried to put CORN HUSKS down the garbage disposal and completely clogged out entire sink system, including the (single) bathtub/shower, which is currently a swamp of murky water with random corn silk balls bobbing despondently therein; and Eli developed some mysterious stomach ailment just as I took the kids over to my parents' house to bathe, which led him (omg omg omg) to POOP on their WHITE FRESHLY STEAM CLEANED CARPET twice. omg omg omg.
It was so bad, you guys. And thank heavens it was obviously scotch guarded or something, because I couldn't believe I got those stains out. I was seriously SWEATING in panic, while the previously potty trained boy was running around in diapers for the first time in about three weeks and doubtless ruining all his progress.
Arrgh. So to sum up: piles of dishes, including a crock pot of barbecued ribs, which have sat untouched by dishwasher for two days; an impressive number of soiled and/or ruined underpants which REE-HEALLY need laundered; and a ticking time bomb of a toddler sipping on Pedialyte. So I may as well just say it and get it over with: after five days of attempting to swish/soak/rinse fecal matter out of underpants in the toilet (after getting very tired of just throwing them away following such an accident) I think I have decided I may not be cut out for cloth diapering after all. Don't judge me, great internet.
Oh, and I just stepped into a pile of slimy regurgitated weeds courtesy of the dog. Of course I did.
And then. And then in one single day: the phone that was valiantly soldiering on completely gave up the ghost, rendering it useless even for contact list retrieval (!!!); I brilliantly tried to put CORN HUSKS down the garbage disposal and completely clogged out entire sink system, including the (single) bathtub/shower, which is currently a swamp of murky water with random corn silk balls bobbing despondently therein; and Eli developed some mysterious stomach ailment just as I took the kids over to my parents' house to bathe, which led him (omg omg omg) to POOP on their WHITE FRESHLY STEAM CLEANED CARPET twice. omg omg omg.
It was so bad, you guys. And thank heavens it was obviously scotch guarded or something, because I couldn't believe I got those stains out. I was seriously SWEATING in panic, while the previously potty trained boy was running around in diapers for the first time in about three weeks and doubtless ruining all his progress.
Arrgh. So to sum up: piles of dishes, including a crock pot of barbecued ribs, which have sat untouched by dishwasher for two days; an impressive number of soiled and/or ruined underpants which REE-HEALLY need laundered; and a ticking time bomb of a toddler sipping on Pedialyte. So I may as well just say it and get it over with: after five days of attempting to swish/soak/rinse fecal matter out of underpants in the toilet (after getting very tired of just throwing them away following such an accident) I think I have decided I may not be cut out for cloth diapering after all. Don't judge me, great internet.
Oh, and I just stepped into a pile of slimy regurgitated weeds courtesy of the dog. Of course I did.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Lessons from the Weekend
Hey! Did you know that if you happen to completely submerge your cell phone in water- say, just for a random example, by flipping out of a canoe while the phone is in your pocket- you can take the phone apart, put it in a bag of rice, and it may SORT of come back to life? With a weird upside down, funkily colored screen that reads backwards, but that the nice cell phone store people can hopefully at least extract the contact list from?
Now you know. Bag of rice.
And also! Maybe next time keep your phone in a plastic bag when BOATING, you genius. Just a thought.
Now you know. Bag of rice.
And also! Maybe next time keep your phone in a plastic bag when BOATING, you genius. Just a thought.
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