Mar 04 2010

One of Many Reasons I Love my Redding

When I went to get Red from his nap this afternoon he points to a book he was looking at and says, "What is Leo doing?" I think he was being obtusely instructive, as we frequently are. He'll ask a question and we'll put it back to him, "Well, what do you think?"

So I said, "Looks like he's making something."

Redding says, "Yes, he baked a cake. We can bake a cake. We'd be just like Leo."

Seriously? With a lead-in like that? How could I ever say no?

I asked, "What kind of cake would you like to bake?"

After a little consideration, he replied, "Orange."

Thinking to myself that I can not make an orange cake, mostly because I've been out of red food coloring since Andrew requested a red velvet birthday cake, LIKE TWO YEARS AGO... I have some kind of mental block about picking up food coloring of any variety, but especially red. OK?

I said, "I don't think I have a recipe for that. There are lots of different kinds of cakes I do have recipes for chocolate, yellow, spice cake, gingerbread, pumpkin, even coffee cake."

He picked coffee cake. Then he got giddier and giddier as he asked me what we'd put in it and I listed off the potential ingredients.

The boy is deliriously happy. I love it. As someone how genuinely enjoys baking, not just for the end product, but just because it is a little bit magic, I can't tell you how pleased I am that he is so interested.

The funny thing is? He probably won't eat coffee cake, or any other kind of cake. He doesn't like bread, most crackers, eats only the frosting off of cupcakes, won't touch the chocolate chip or pumpkin muffins I make all the time...

He is an interesting child, but he's all mine and I couldn't possibly love him any more.

Run Redding Run

Mar 01 2010

Buying A Crib

Once upon a time, Andrew and I had a baby. The baby was so early that Andrew and I had purchased exactly nothing. Not a single item. When you have a baby that is born 14 weeks early, you also tend not to give a whole lot of thought to purchasing things while they are in the hospital fighting for their lives.

Nope.

So, when we finally got around to buying a crib, it was maybe a few weeks before Annabella would be coming home. We had been gathering tidbits from other parents, magazines, websites, nurses, and doctors about what we needed. Then the deciding factor: The neonatologist, Dr. Sunshine told us that we better get our act together because before long, our girl would be home.

When you go to buy a crib, be sure to give yourself 6 - 8 weeks lead time for delivery of the crib. When you don't have that kind of lead time, you find a specialty baby store with cribs in stock. These stores can be very hard to find, but they are out there.

Why, oh why, am I writing about a crib? Because the crib that we finally selected is now completing its circle of life, as Annabella's bed frame.

Yes, once our beautiful girl was done with the crib, and toddler bed, we moved her brother into the crib. Now that he is done with the toddler bed, Annabella gets a beautiful big girl bed, as she puts it.

Circle of Life

In all seriousness, buying the convertible crib was the best furniture decision we've ever made. I highly recommend it.

Feb 26 2010

Lacking

My blogging has been sporadic at best. I realize that.

Feb 10 2010

Great Day

Almost by sheer force of will, it was a fantastic day today. Annabella was back at school. Redding had a great time at the Y. I got to go to yoga. We even made some yummy minty cookies to decorate. All good stuff.

Realizing that I haven't put up any new pictures lately, I had to come up with a post today, just to get this one up.

I freakin' love my kids.

Eagle's Nest Big Slide

Feb 09 2010

Out of the Mouths of Moms

The last week has presented certain challenges. There's the trauma of having a child hospitalized. There's the lack of sleep for worrying and cries of, "Mom!" in the night. There's the constant nagging to get fluids into your child.

All that. But none of those begins to touch on the challenges faced by Redding. First, his sister gets loads of attention. She's got mom and dad following her around with bowls, towels, cool cloths for her head... Loads of medicine and tons of sippees of juice, ice water, Gatorade, Pedialyte, anything she will drink. Redding wants a bowl for in his bed. He wants "puffers" like Annabella's. He wants a sippee, which thankfully he can have. He wants whatever she is getting.

So Friday morning, I called the grandparents to enlist assistance in watching Red while I took Annabella to the pediatrician. Poppa was at our house a few hours later and Bel and I were off. Red wanted to see the doctor. I figure, why take a healthy child into the waiting room full of miserable illness?

The doctor briefly examined my normally perky girl. Based on her coloring, lethargy, tender abdomen and the fact that she hadn't kept much down in 2 days, she sent us to the hospital for IV fluids to treat severe dehydration.

So, we stopped home to pick up some necessities. Poppa was out shoveling the driveway and Red was out with him, playing on a sled. I was already weepy over putting Bel into the hospital. I was overwhelmed with gratitude to find Red happy as a clam and my driveway being cleared. Then I had to humbly ask what he had planned for the rest of the afternoon, as I had to go put my girl... And the tears flowed.

Redding winds up spending the rest of the day with Poppa and Gragra at our house, then going to their house for dinner and a sleepover. He gets all the attention of two very doting grandparents. But there's a problem. He doesn't understand why Sissy gets to go to the doctor, to the hospital, gets medicine, etc. Poor guy. Plus he's missing Annabella, Mom and Dad. Poor, poor sweet boy.

Saturday evening Annabella got to come home, but wasn't very interactive with Red. Still she's getting lots of attention and fussing over. Medicine, puffers, all that jazz.

Sunday night at dinner we were discussing how he'd been saying things all weekend like, "I hurt myself, I need to go to the hospital." And, forced, fake cough, cough "I'm sick, I need a puffer."

Annabella hops up from the dinner table with a panicked look on her face, shouting, "I have to go potty, NOW!" She races to the bathroom.

Redding is hot on her heels, "Oh! I have to go potty now, too!" Which is funny because he's not potty trained. He feels using the potty once a day before nap is plenty.

Someone commented that he just wants to have and do everything just like his big sister.

I replied, "Yeah, won't he be surprised when he gets his first period."

Feb 02 2010

Soccer Mom

I just signed Annabella up for a short 3 week soccer clinic. If it goes well, she will join a local U8 soccer team and play a season from the end of April through the end of June. There are two evenings a week, one for practice, one for a game.

You may be witnessing the birth of a soccer mom. Now, will I have to trade in my (RECALLED!?!?!!!) Matrix for a minivan?

Jan 20 2010

What's That Noise?

I swore I'd never be that parent that needed to force their child into silence when they were crying. Bullying, cajoling, forcing, somehow, that child to stop their fit, silence their sobs, and cease the waterworks.

Certainly, I'd never intimidate them through gritted teeth, telling them, "Stop your crying or I'll give you something to cry about!"

Yet there are moments. Little pieces of time when the whole infinite universe shrinks down to that one tiny voice in the dark. And the noise coming out of them? Well it just makes my head crawl and my teeth clench, and every nerve in my body shrieks, "MAKE THAT CHILD STOP MAKING THAT NOISE!!!"

That's when mommy needs a time out. I look away, take a breath, go to another room, say calmly, "That's enough. Pull yourself together, or..." whatever fun thing we had planned will no longer be happening.

Yep. Means be damned, I'm that mom.

Crap.

Jan 10 2010

A New Movie or Tween Novel?

As many of you know, I am particularly attuned to my dreams. I don't often remember them, but when I do I analyze them, share them, and generally act like a nut.

This morning the kids let me sleep until 7:40 a.m.! A shockingly late morning for us. Woo hoo! The greatest bonus was this dream:

I dreamed about a group of kids, a family with 3 or 4 kids. The eldest boy was going to be a senior in high school and he wanted to be student body president in the fall. It being Spring, everything was melting and green grass was peeking out. Lots of kids on bikes and his younger siblings were going to help him reach his dream.

One of the ways they help him is by campaigning at the youngest boys junior high school. The soon-to-be freshmen go nuts over the eldest boy's campaigning and soon are following him around cheering.

Soon after the competition spies what is going on and comes over to confront the eldest sister (who is going to be a sophomore) about such juvenile tactics. She is seen holding a bottle with a clear, semi-viscous liquid in it. She tilts it back and forth wonderingly, with an evil glint in her eye. As the competition approaches, taunting her about her brother, she offers him a cup.

Suddenly he is stuck by her beauty and wonders why he never noticed her before. He begins flirting furiously. She puts the bottle aside announcing, "you'll have to give it a try tomorrow..." and the camera pans to the rest of the siblings walking home from a victorious day of campaigning.

As they walk down the street giddy and boisterously discussing their huge success, they somehow neglect to notice that everyone around them is turning into strange frog faced, zoot suit wearing animated characters. The frogs chase each other, sing, dance, twirl multi-colored gummy worm watch fobs to accentuate their every phrase.

There's a little more, which is a bit more disjointed. A "Rat Pack" bunch of zoot suit frogs, singing, with someone sharp-shooting them with popcorn. The competition gets home and asks if there was a package delivered for him. Something very funky, from a pal named (of all things) Diddy. Some strange interlude with the Price Is Right, about the big wheel spin going up to $10 due to inflation.

I can't believe how much of the dream I remember. It was wild.

I'm beginning to think I need to put aside at least one evening a week to write and work on my stories.

Dec 22 2009

Memories

Today I went to the Y, to try and stave off some of the debilitating damage I'm doing to myself with food, in the holiday spirit.

After a brisk 40 minutes on the treadmill, I figured I could just 'relax' on a recumbent bike for another half hour or so and read. After a few minutes two repair guys showed up and started working on the bike next to me. Normally, I wouldn't pay any attention, but I had to look up to figure out where the smell was coming from. Old Spice. None of the new flavors they are selling, either. Old school, original Old Spice. How can I be sure? Because the minute I caught a whiff, clear as day I had an image of my Poppop sitting in a red chair. His big hands resting on the arms as he waited patiently for me to finish cooking him something in my little red toy aluminum frying pan. I was cooking on the matching easy chair next to the one he was sitting on. I couldn't have been more than 6 and was probably more like 4.

A little holiday gift, that memory. Made me feel warm, loved. Writing about it makes me misty eyed.

Pop

Here he is, I think he just got back from taking Eric camping in Yosemite, and panning for gold. Or that's how I remember it. I am the grumpy looking one, probably because I did not go camping.

Dec 21 2009

Redding's First Haircut

On Saturday, December 19, 2009, Redding had his first haircut.

Here we have the "before" shot:
I changed my mind, I don't want a hair cut

Here we have the "after" shot:
I need three

In between we had a lot of wailing and some consoling. You can use this as a life lesson, don't wait until your child is 2 1/2 to get their first haircut. Or you can look at it as typical toddler / preschooler behavior. They don't like change.

I would like to thank my dear friend Mindi, who let us tag along with her and her three boys as they went in for their regularly scheduled and wonderfully handsome haircuts. From her oldest, who just turned 5, to her youngest who is about 6 months younger than Red, they did a great job.

Once again, my very capable friend not only managed her highly active brood, but somehow also held my hand while I felt like the meanest mom and in the end helped me get my kids coats on them. I don't know how she does it. She is supermom.

Redding likes his hew hair. Everyone who knows him is shocked by the change. He seems so grown up, somehow more well-behaved. It is bizarre how appearances set expectations. He's not a baby anymore.

Goodbye my bohemian baby boy. Hello my sweet well-behaved little boy.

Nov 30 2009

Thankful

There are countless new age advisors selling their inspiration in books and online, urging everyone to count their blessings, be more thankful, embrace the life you have.

Over the week preceding Thanksgiving this year, I signed on to do just that. Each day on Facebook, I posted one thing I was thankful for. As it turns out it made a huge difference in how I felt this year. It's free, it makes me happier with what I have, it helps me to be more positive in challenging moments, and generally turned a ray of sunshine on my holiday.

In order to keep those feelings going through the rest of the holiday season, I've decided to continue to post one thing I'm thankful for each and every day until 2010. It turns out I'm thankful for a many things, great and small, and when I take a moment to examine them it fills me up. My cup runneth over with joy, pride, gratitude, abundance galore.

Join me. Post what you are thankful for on Facebook or here, in comments. It mighty just make your day, your holiday, or a great finish to 2009.

Nov 24 2009

Top 12 Ways I Know I Have a Migraine

1.) Oooh, shooting stars!
2.) My sunglasses are on. It is overcast. And I am indoors.

3.) Must tilt head up to make eye contact with my husband. The pain of doing so causes me to squint.

4.) Rats clawing their way out of my cerebellum? Could be.

5.) Rocks lodged somewhere in my sinuses? Maybe.

6.) I want to say something really mean.

7.) Quietly asking the children to, "stop, stop, please stop talking, for just a few minutes, for the love of all that is good and holy." See #6 above.

8.) I'm not screening my calls, I'm willing the telephone to stop existing.

9.) Reading is exclusively reserved for bottles of pain medication.

10.) Intense craving for orange juice and chocolate chip cookies alternates with intense feelings of nausea.

11.) Re-reading every label of every food product I consumed in the last 48 hours to figure out which one has secret MSG in it. Today's guess? Progresso Italian Style Bread Crumbs. BASTARDS.

12.) Oh, right the pain, in my entire head. Right. Yes. Pain.

Oct 12 2009

Just Like Me

Annabella has always been a very physically active child. Strangers everywhere across this nation have remarked that if they could "bottle just half that energy" they could be rich or better yet, enjoy the kind of positive outlook Annabella has.

Having been present for every one of her physical therapy sessions, having literally worked with her on building strength in her legs on countless playgrounds, and having gotten over a little of my own fear of horses to take her to hippotherapy, I am acutely aware of when she falls down.

Over the years I have begun to think that she falls only a little more often than most children. I wonder sometimes if it is because of the way her muscles developed due to her prematurity, if perhaps she just inherited a bit of clumsiness from her mom, or even if she just falls a bit more often because she is in perpetual motion. More movements overall lead to a greater number of falls, if not an overall greater proportion.

Most of the time I am able to look at any guilt I have over her prematurity and shake my head and push it away. The cause of preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome are unknown, so 90% of the time I let myself off the hook. The lack of coordination? That is all me. I have long had such a strong tendency to run into things that someone once said to me, "It's as if your brain has no idea where your body is."

I think I was hurt at the time, but it is quite accurate. I trip walking up stairs that I walk daily. I miss obvious visual cues that tell others to step over things. That is just me.

Annabella? Most of the time she likes to do her own thing. I try not to tell her she is just like me. Just as I don't want to put the limit or excuse of her prematurity on her, I also don't want to lead her to believe that my life is all that there is in the world for her.

Then, while I'm deep in a spiral of this circuitous thinking, over analyzing and fretting, Annabella walks into the kitchen. Utterly unaware of what I am doing, I continue as I say, "Hey sweetie, what's up?"

Her eyes are popping and she's stopped dead in her tracks, "MOMMY! How do you do that? Can I try?"

I am standing at the counter, cutting carrots with the sharpest paring knife in the house. Against my thumb. Over and over the paring knife goes through the carrot, stopping before it hits my thumb and the carrot slice falls into the bowl.

Looking down I realize what I'm doing and I start to explain that it is dangerous. I get out a cuttingboard so that I can show her the right way, but she's not interested in the right way. And now I'm getting annoyed because the stupid carrot pieces are rolling all over the place. The moment is lost, she's already moved on to something else. I start to think that maybe next time I'll ask her to cut them for me, using a cuttingboard of course.

The real point is that I need to be living in, present in, and focused on right now. The things I am doing at any given moment. Then maybe I won't fall down so much.

Peek-A-Boo

Oct 04 2009

Down To My Very Foundation

Like it or not, as a parent you are your child's first Philosophy professor. Whether you talk about ideas and life and big pictures or not, you communicate to them about how life is, how things work, how to be in the world.

Then they go off to school and get all kinds of other messages. Not a bad thing, all in all. But certainly something that opens your eyes to the messages you send.

Annabella opened up this conversation when she was done eating dinner, waiting for dessert, the day Andrew left on his trip. "Mom, what happens when we die?"

Yep.

So I started in with how different people believe different things. The concept of heaven, reincarnation, themes of rejoining our ancestors...

Then, in a complete surprise to me, after listening patiently to all this, she says, "No, Mom, what REALLY happens?"

To which I could only reply, "Nobody knows, honey. That's why so many different cultures around the world have spent so much time thinking about it. Everyone would like to know, but nobody really does."

"Believing something that you can't prove or know for sure, that's called faith."

I know I had a similar conversation with my mom. She being raised Catholic had no trouble giving me a firm answer. No maybe's. Maybe my mother is where my belief in a higher power came from. Probably. But my own dismay at organized religion of any stripe is entirely my own.

So, I'm a free-form deist married to an avowed athiest. Teaching a mini-course, ad hoc, on comparative religion.

"But what do YOU think happens Mom?"

"Well, as I said, I don't know for sure. I like the idea of reincarnation a lot. First, because it encourages us to have greater respect for all living things. Second, because life is so full of amazing things and people, we couldn't possibly understand or experience it all in just one lifetime."

Climbing That Hill

Sep 11 2009

Hold Me Back

Memo to You

RE: My Son, Redding

Dear obviously-former-military grandfather type dude from the park last evening (a.k.a. complete stranger),

I do not need to "cut off those curls" as they are not "clearly holding him back." Neither physically nor mentally.

Redding and I weren't the only recipients of your scorn, I heard you harassing the other mom about her child still in diapers. Do you seriously think we feeble women wait at the park for some big old power monger type like you to come along and clue us in on how to parent?

Go find a hobby and while you're at it, learn some proper park parent/grandparent etiquette. Sir.

Ready to Roll!

Sep 10 2009

Health Care Reform

I'm sure by now everyone has chosen their position on health care reform. Or maybe not since the whole shebang is up in the air.

As a reasonable, capable adult I experienced "the other side" of health care in our country and it is ugly.

When Andrew's freelance career turned into a full-fledged business of his own, with partners, I was able to stop working. I had provided health insurance for our family, so we applied for individual coverage.

Having had nice or decent health insurance coverage my entire adult life, I was shocked and horrified when both Annabella and I were declined coverage. Declined. Denied.

I was declined because I had high cholesterol. No one in the underwriting department seemed to care that my grandmother also had sky high cholesterol until she passed away at age 96. Doesn't matter. According to insurance underwriting high cholesterol correlates directly with heart disease, astronomical hospital bills, flying monkeys carrying baskets full of their dollar bills far, far away to the land of OZ or something.

But there I was, 34, no family history of heart disease. No high blood pressure. No diabetes. Nothing in the world to indicate impending doom, except high cholesterol. I'd already tried all the non-prescription methods to lower my cholesterol. I exercised, I ate a very healthy diet, and had tried taking garlic, cinnamon, niacin, flax oil, fish oil. You name it, I tried it. Nothing made much of a difference.

Believe me when I say I had experienced pressure from doctors to go on cholesterol lowering medication. I had one tell me, "If you want to be around to raise your daughter, you'd better start taking this now." Like I would die immediately, from the amount of cholesterol in my blood alone, if I didn't take the drugs. Wouldn't Annabella be sad. What a freakin' bitch that doctor was. OH MY GOD.

Why? Why did I not succumb? Because those drugs are UNSAFE if you are pregnant, may be come pregnant or are nursing. And I, nay, we, wanted another child. [So, yes, not only did we run the gauntlet of prematurity, preeclampsia, and HELLP Syndrome, but the looming doom of putting off treating my cholesterol with liver killing drugs...] So I wasn't about to start taking them and put off having another child. There was no information available about exactly how long they stay in your system or present a danger to your future children.

Annabella was also declined. Because she had been born prematurely. Never mind the fact that in the two years since she was released from the hospital she'd never had more than a cold or two. Never went back into the hospital. Never readmitted. For a 1 1/2 lb. micro-preemie that is amazing. Fan-freakin'-tastic. Unheard of. She didn't come home with an apnea monitor. Shocking. She came home on oxygen, not for her lungs but for her eyes. But within months the Retinopathy of Prematurity had resolved itself and the oxygen tank was gone, too. It didn't matter to the insurance company.

So, we were required to exhaust COBRA before a regular company would consider covering us. Anyone who has ever paid COBRA knows how painful that is. Imagine paying for the whole family for 18 months. AWESOME You continue paying hundreds of dollars a month, but now your insurance doesn't cover office visits! And it doesn't cover immunizations! And it doesn't cover prescriptions! It doesn't cover CRAP until you've exhausted your $10,000 deductible! Who chooses a $10,000 deductible? I don't know, we had no choice. That is the only coverage we could get.

Why? Why would someone pay for that kind of coverage when they are clearly getting so little back? So that they don't go bankrupt because of cancer, surgery, having a premature baby, or any number of perfectly common things that tend to go wrong with the human body on a regular basis.

Believe me. It is painful to send a check, every month, without fail [because if you don't, you could lose the CRAP coverage you have and not be able to get ANY] and still be smacked in the face with a bill for $125 every time your child needs an office visit. I can totally see why someone would forego the insurance. It is crystal clear to me how this is unaffordable for many, many people.

So, when you're sitting back in your mansion, wondering what this could possibly have to do with you, consider this: 1 in 5 people in America have high cholesterol, rendering them essentially uninsurable. 1 in 8 babies are born prematurely. Those are just two of the many reasons you could be declined health insurance. If you think you'll never be affected by something that would make you uninsurable, think again.

Not enough reason to care? Maybe you imagine you'll always be covered at your job or your spouses job. You should be aware that employer-provided health insurance is on the decline. It has been for years. It costs employers and employees more than ever, for less and less coverage. With the job market at such a low point, many people are forced to work for smaller companies which can't afford to provide coverage or to work for themselves and find their own coverage.

These problems belong to all of us. This isn't just about taking money from the unaffected rich to pay for the care of the poor. This is about fixing a system that is broken from the top to the bottom, affecting everyone, of every means, eventually. Every day, hard-working, intelligent people are losing their lives, their livelihoods, their loved ones, their homes, their security, and their well-being because health insurance is out of control, out of their reach, or just plain unavailable and medical costs are just plain ridiculously high.

As a nation, we can ill afford to look down upon this problem from a lofty peak and say, "Not my problem, doesn't affect me, why should I have to do something to help someone else?"

Sep 08 2009

What Is That?

Yesterday was Labor Day. A day of rest, right? It was for me. Andrew cooked dinner while his parents played with the kids... And then his Dad sat next to Redding at dinner, so I totally got a huge break. Yeah!

While Andrew was cooking he made some startling discoveries in the kitchen. There was something viscous like honey in the bottom off the fridge, below the crisper drawers. It has no smell, was amber colored, and totally from space aliens or something. I seriously have no conceivable idea where it could have come from.

Oh, but seriously? Where is that awful smell coming from? That's what prompted the search. Mystery smell like the children have been hiding feces in the fridge.

This afternoon I came home from the grocery store and had an epiphany. The black beans. There, in the back, for maybe a week. Yes. It is them. Oooh, are they nasty. Thank goodness for garbage disposals. Yikes.

Good news, honey! The fridge is stocked again and stink free! Whoopie!

Aug 17 2009

Ooh, I'm smelly.

I tried a new shampoo and I can't stand the smell of my own head. It didn't and doesn't smell bad in the bottle.

Seriously, this doesn't sound like much of a problem. My hair is hardly long enough to get in my face. Yet, each time I turn my head, there it is. That stink. That memory evoking mist.

I wracked my brain for some clue as to why the hell it is bothering me so much. It's like incense, college, head shops... Bad presents from distant relatives who buy gifts while they refill their prescription for pot. Strange nights when you pick up your mother from the airport only to come home and find your friends and housemates passing a bong around the living room. It's that awesome.

Oh, it could be Patchouli. That's the first name that hit me. But no, there is no acrid cat piss smell underlying the whole thing. What manufacturer in their right mind would at the scent of Patchouli to anything? Oh, wait Skin-And-Bones Spice added it to her latest perfume, but that just makes my point. "I don't eat and you should smell like kitty peepee."

No, it's more floral. More arty, a tiny bit more sophisticated. More along the lines of hiding the smell of your recent clubbing clothes or the dishes you haven't gotten to yet, from your uptight roommate.

Yes. Yes it is. Frangipani. Frangi-freakin-pani. Can't wait for Andrew to get home from work to find out if the smell is as atrocious to others as it is to me. If the drug paraphernalia stink follows me around the room or what.

Aug 07 2009

Did you just hear that?

It is Summer still and accordingly, I like to walk around my house barefoot.

OK, that is my custom. It is not actually something I like. I don't tend to like it because somehow my kitchen floor is always sticky. That and my feet, the callouses and the dirt. The horror, people, the horror.

But it's my home and my horror, so I will go barefoot. Thunk, thunk, thunk, all the way across the floor, thank you very much.

In typical fashion, I would like to thank the two small children who live in my house for making my floor sticky. I'd also like to thank the previous owners who installed semi-hideous faux slate vinyl flooring in shades of brown and grey. Which really doesn't look THAT bad, and does an amazing job of hiding dirt...

But I digress.

You see, this morning, I swept, vacuumed, and scrubbed the floor. And the children haven't been anywhere near it. I scrubbed the floor with hot water, a lot of vinegar, and a tiny bit of soap. On my hands and knees. Really.

So, can someone please tell me what the freaking hell is up with my feet sticking to the floor right now? Directly in front of my computer? Where I know I scrubbed thoroughly?

Since I clearly can not be at fault here, I blame the sneaky floor-stick-gnomes. I heard them snickering when I finished vacuuming the dining room.

Jul 25 2009

Olfactory Memories

Just after nap today, Annabella came down stairs looking all bleary eyed and fuzzy. She actually slept at nap time, which is rare these days.

I asked her if she wanted a snuggle and she came over and puckered up. "No, not a kiss or even a hug, I asked if you would like a snuggle."

So she pulled herself in real close and I buried my face in her neck and I was dumb struck. "Andrew, smell her neck, right here."

She loved this attention and quickly ran over to her dad. He took a big, deep whiff of her thin little neck. Head tilted to the side, her bobbed hair dangling akimbo. Andrew looked nostalgic a moment, then he announced, "She smells like the hospital."

Not exactly, but right where I was going. You see, our girl has been boycotting the bathtub in favor of enjoying her space and her things, video games and other such things. Not that I've ever been one to bathe her every day anyway. But I digress...

Her little unwashed neck and hair smell just, JUST, well, exactly the way she used to smell when she was too new to be washed very often.

And given the volume of people I've been talking to lately about her birth, her time in the hospital, or even just how very fortunate we all are to be where we are in our lives right now...

Well, it was really amazingly sweet. As that is the closest I'll ever get to having a new baby of mine again.

Jul 21 2009

Leaving California Behind Again

I wonder if anyone has noticed my absence? I've been in California since July 1.

Tomorrow I fly home with the kids, Andrew having returned home days ago, because the poor man has to work. I could use all the well wishes and mental support you can send out to me. For good children who don't scream all morning long while we check in and go through security. For patience to keep up a constant stream of songs and hand games if necessary. For the batter on the DVD player to work. All that good stuff.

Lots of pictures and good time to catch up on once I get home and settled.

Jun 25 2009

There's nothing systematic about my desensitization

It seems like at least once a day, for the last two weeks or more, Andrew winds up translating something one of our children said for me. Many times he is just repeating for me, more loudly, what one of them has said.

I was beginning to think that I need to go get a hearing test. But here's the thing... I hear just fine. Seriously, 99% of the time, when I am away from my children, I hear great. I hear the phone ring. I hear knocks at the door. I hear the garage door open. I almost never have to ask and adult or someone on the phone to repeat themselves.

There can be only one logical answer. I've begun blocking out the sound of my children's voices.

When I was but a single gal, auntie, I used to marvel at how mothers could simply ignore their children desperately trying to get their attention. Mommy! Mommy! Mom-meeee!!!!!!! (I'm not naming any names, and I think I managed to keep my mouth shut and not judge. Here's hoping.) But now I totally understand.

There seems to be a limit to what I can or am willing to listen to on a daily basis. In the morning, when we're getting ready for the day, I am mommy-on-the-spot with all kinds of helping hands. By dinner time I am reduced to someone who not only can't hear when one of them is talking to me, can't always distinguish one voice from the three usually going at the time... And I am even sometimes sloppy about responding. Sometimes I respond to what I think I heard and don't bother to clarify.

Fortunately for me, however, I have a built in hearing aide. How so? Each evening Andrew comes home for dinner and steps in to filter whatever important is being said up to me. How can he do it after a full day of work? Perhaps sometimes the voices of small immediate needs are much more enjoyable to hear.

For me, silence is golden. It revives me and charges my batteries. Someday when too much of my time is full of this golden silence, perhaps I'll miss the cacophony. For now, even I have limits.

Jun 23 2009

Is it me?

If I ever wonder aloud how I got such a Pollyanna child, remind me that I almost started crying while coaching my daughter how to be tough this morning.

In fact, I did start crying when asking one of the teenage counselors to watch out for the bullying. But not until I was walking away.

Avoiding blaming the victim at all costs, but encouraging my girl to stand up for herself is hard, OK? I kept making suggestions and all she would say was, "Mom, I don't want to hurt his feelings."

The fact that he's hurting hers? That doesn't seem to matter so much. Except that she mentioned possibly not going back to camp today. Grrr!!!

Finally, I got her to agree to say, with force, "If you can't be nice, you can't be my friend."

Let's hope that helps.

Now, really, who's surprised I'm entrusting my $1.25 million former micro-preemie to teenage YMCA counselors anyway? I know I am! Not that there's anything wrong with them, just that I am a freak.

Jun 20 2009

Green Day, ADHD and Man-O-Rexia

If you know me at all, you are aware that I love Green Day. Truly.

I'm not one to dive into new albums, or even pirate them. I get around to them in my own sweet time.

So when my father in law told me to Tivo Carson Daly's new show last week, so I could see Green Day perform all week, I did.

After attempting to watch the last show, I think that the reason they call the show "Last Call with Carson Daly" is because you must be drunk to enjoy it. OK, maybe not completely drunk, but at least a little buzzed or have ADHD.

Why? Because once they get through with 8 different circular nausea pans over the crowd and stage, the band flows from the into into lyrics and no shot is held for more than 3 seconds. I timed it. It is insane.

The songs? I don't know. My brain is too pissed off about the flick-flit-flap of the crap camera work.

Carson? Dude. Los Angeles is surely more health conscious than NYC, but seriously? Won't your producers buy you at least one sandwich? You don't even have to put mayo on it, man. Please, please, someone buy Carson Daly a sandwich.

Thank you.

May 30 2009

Dreaming

In our latest round of "What School Should Bel Attend?" I was struck with one thought. Part of me would love to put her in front of Sponge Bob for hours a day. Let her eat nothing but junk, never read a non-fiction book, buy her every 'of the moment' outfit and accessory, fill her ears with Hannah Montana, and never ever talk about the real world.

The goal of which being? Part of me longs for her to have a life of the carefree masses. The ones who think our politicians vote representing the constituents who elected them. The ones who don't think lobbyists make a mockery of the concept of 'greater good'. The ones who think our planet is not in trouble. The ones who don't recycle, save water or energy, and feel nothing as they toss yards of plastic wrap in landfills every day. The ones who think we have a strong justice system. The ones who think, or rather the ones who don't think. Not often and not for themselves.

Then again, I don't think even aggressive attempts to turn my girl into a flibbertigibbet would make a difference in the end. She's pretty smart and tuned-in for a 5 year old. She finds her own humor and lightness in the world, drawing it out literally from the people around her.

May 13 2009

Faces

I just changed my FaceBook picture to a picture of me at about age 4 or 5. The same age as my girl.

There is such an amazing freshness to the smiles of children. Utter freedom. Somehow appropriate for Spring.

Apr 28 2009

Pardon the Silence

I've been busy with the MOD walk, visits from my sister Tammie, and now am bogged down under a hacking cough.

Now, if I can track down my mailman and get the package with my digital camera in it...

Apr 07 2009

Mommy Wars

A confluence of sorts has occurred and I can't stop myself from writing about it.

As I've said a million times, I just didn't get or get into the whole 'blog' thing until Andrew showed me Dooce. This woman was hilarious and real. Messy, but fun. Having worked from home since becoming a mother, that blog provided me a much needed window into the life of another mom. A contemporary, even. So, I've been reading Dooce almost as long as I've had Annabella, which seems like just about forever.

Well, Heather, the writer of Dooce, was on Oprah yesterday. The topic wasn't blogs, mommy blogs, or anything really computer related. It was just about being a mother. It was full of mother confessions. So, what's the big thing? Well, it seems that the big confessions of mothers across the country are pretty universal. Moms feel alone, isolated, they feel like they have unreal expectations for themselves, they are overtired, under-sexed, and shining it on.

One of the topics that resonated most with me is how they felt the need to present themselves as together, having it all, loving it, and in control. It may not seem like it, but I definitely feel that pressure. Particularly since I am a SAHM. At the gym, at Bel's school, when talking to mom's in the mom group or my friends who are moms... I feel that because I don't work 40+ hours outside of the home, I should have everything else in the lives of my family perfectly in order. And if you've ever read what I write here, you'll know that I don't. Even if you've read every word I've ever written here, you don't know the half of it. So, actually managing to seem half way together is kind of a stunning achievement for me.

But even more than among strangers, among friends old and new I also feel this pressure. Recently on FaceBook, there was a survey for moms. You answer the questions and post it.

In it, I confessed that although we'd been trying to conceive for 4 months, when I finally got a positive pregnancy test, my first thought wasn't, "Oh joyous day!" Oh, no. Far from it. My first thought was, "Oh crap, what have I done?"

Yes, married, trying to have a baby, doting Auntie, lots of friends with children, that was me. Even so, there was for me a shocking difference between desiring something in theory and the wake up call of finding out it would be so in point of fact.

Maybe I'm way too honest. Maybe I'm an over-sharer (obviously, this is true, I'm still writing here). But I was really surprised with the canned, generic answer of every one of my friends to the same question. What was your first reaction, upon finding out you were pregnant? Happiness, joy, excitement...

Really? I'm the only one who hesitated? I'm the only one for whom reality wasn't a little bubble of giddy perfection? I think not.

You can still be happy, pleased, and all that jazz and still wonder at the mystery of "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it."

Even winning the lottery isn't 100% awesome 100% of the time.

Mar 26 2009

Facebook Chat

One sided. Between me and Tammie. (That is, rather, Tammie and I, apparently I was drunk or something when I wrote this.)

Are you there good? It's me Margaret
good?

god!

I

Can't type

Went to the William Shatner school of overly dramatic IMing.

Mar 23 2009

Here Come the Bugs...

They kids have been super healthy since late December. I kid you not. OK, maybe since January. Annabella had only missed one day of school all year!

Last night when we got home, Bel was complaining of a headache again, as she had been for much of the weekend. Only now she had a fever to go with it. Not to be outdone, Reddings clear drippy nose which we thought may be due to allergies, has gotten much stuffier and now he's got a fever too.

Plus, with the warmer weather, we've already experienced, in our own home: ants, ladybugs, (more) spiders, and 2, yes 2, centipedes. AWESOME Next thing you know the mosquitoes and ticks will be poppin'! Woo hooooooooo!

Mar 19 2009

Seriously, Have You Voted For Me Yet?

Vote here.

Why do I need this? I don't know exactly. What will I do with a professional camera rental? I'm not sure.

The theme was "luck", a shot you got by luck. For the most part, I wanted to tell everyone the story of my girl and how every single shot I get of her feels luckier than you could ever imagine.

On that note: Vote for my "Midair" photo and go sponsor our March for Babies and help give every baby their full 40 weeks. Seriously. GO HERE and donate if you can, join our team and walk if you can't. You can walk where you live.

Thanks to everyone for all the support.

Love,
Dawn

Mar 18 2009

Vote for ME!

My photo made it to the final (VOTING!) round on greeblemonkey! WOO HOO!!!

Go vote for me! Tell your friends! Tell your enemies! Tell your mailman!

Just go vote for my picture of Annabella floating in the air at Seacliff Beach here!

Go, now, go vote! GO GO GO!

Mar 03 2009

Trouble

I've gotten in trouble with the husband for not blogging lately. I believe last night he threatened to take my blog away. Or maybe my birthday?

Oh well. So here I am writing again.

I'm working up to doing the March of Dimes walk again this year. We took a year off and it's like all the mojo just left the building. I still believe they are doing important work. So if you get a chance, mosey on over and check out the site. Here's the link. It will give you a short version of Annabella's story, with photos.

Redding's story deserves to be told, too. Don't get me wrong. I've just got a bizarre perspective on it. I mean, by comparison to Annabella's experience, being born at 33 weeks is not so bad. A few luxurious weeks in the NICU learning how to eat, making sure you can maintain your body temperature, and keeping track of whether your little lungs get you enough oxygen? It's like a tropical vacation in comparison. I'm sure, later in life, when he's in therapy, he'll blame me. Blame me for telling him he doesn't have it so bad. Oh well.

And for first time parents to have a 33 weeker? It is hard and I don't mean to make light of it. It's just that all experiences are relative. How do I know? Because our little girl started out life in a NICU nursery reserved for ECMO babies. Babies that need an entire heart/lung bypass machine and two 24 hour a day attendants. So, even in our darker moments, we were like, "Well, shoot, it could be worse, couldn't it?"

That's actually something I could keep in mind these days. I've been having a pity party for myself this winter. I'm not a winter person, really. Even in California, I get into bad habits in the winter of eating too much, exercising too little.

I've been skipping yoga because I don't feel like it, which is ridiculous. Yoga is like what they say about jello, there's always room for yoga. Tired? Do yoga it will perk you up. Depressed? No one can be depressed in warrior II, it's been studied. Tense or worried? Yoga will relax you and ease your mind. Amped? Yoga will work out your nervous energy. It's always the right amount of work, you will always get out of it what you put in.

Lately there's been a lot of agonizing about how little control I have over certain things. There's been a good deal of upheaval, uncertainty. Really, it's a product of our times, I think. The job market stinks and the housing market is on the decline. We've made really conscious choices so that I can be home with the kids and that just puts an extra squeeze on the finances that can sometimes be maddening. When you want to fence your yard so the (just the one) neighbors dogs don't go after your children, so they can play in the backyard on the huge rainbow play system you've had sitting unbuilt since you moved in. When you know you need to replace some of your windows and some of your siding, oh and the sliding glass patio door. When you'd like to update your kitchen and make a great room, which would better suit your family and lifestyle. When you'd like to update a lot of things, but you just can't. Not right now, for very good reasons.

I've never really been one to live in the "oh, I wish I could..." I'm very much a pragmatic, "Oh, this is what I get? Great, let's go." So, I guess I'm having trouble reconciling.

Meanwhile the children are growing. They are growing and changing. And I need to document that, for family and friends, near and far.

So, hey, I'm going to try and climb out of my own head for a while. Because, you know what? It could be worse.

Feb 12 2009

Movies are not what they once were

Recently I've had the opportunity to see a number of movies.

Some of them I've been anxious to see for more than a year.

Until yesterday the best movie I've seen in a long, long time was "Live Free or Die Hard." I'm not even kidding. All you people snickering in the background about me putting on art-house airs, shut it. It took me quite a while to embrace the action genre. When done well, they can be quite entertaining. There was even a moment of special effects where I said, aloud, "Cool!"

Yesterday, while Red was napping and I was trying to get over my migraine, I watched "P.S. I Love You" which turned out to be more heart warming than I imagined. I quite enjoyed the story. I even enjoyed the performance of Hillary Swank, of whom I am not a fan.

The whole time I was watching it, I couldn't get over thinking that Gerry looked familiar. I looked him up on imdb today and got quite a shock. I knew him from "300" which was interesting. Needless to say, what shocked me was the appearance of Gerard Butler. When watching 300, I noted to myself that King Leonindas had possibly the largest ratio of mouth to head I've ever encountered in a human being. Yet somehow, in P.S. he manages to look quite normal, even handsome. Strange.

Oh, and let me just state for the record I will never watch another movie that has any kind of reference subtle or overt to the black dahlia. Never. Ever. Ever. Ever.

Move review out.

Feb 03 2009

Conferences

Last night we went to have a conference with Annabella's teacher. She is a very likable person. Annabella likes her a lot. I like her. I think Andrew likes her just fine.

We have a pleasant time when meeting with her. But I'm always left wondering a little just what child shows up at school. Surely not my child.

When the teacher says, "We'd like the kids to be able to count backward from 20 by the end of the year." I smile and nod. Hopefully I don't make the, "Are you kidding me?" face, because I've heard her do that, at least once when she was 3. Then I get home and ask her, and she does it, without help, correctly.

She was tested on her number knowledge, she missed 14. She said forty instead of 14. She's expected to know up through 30 by the end of the year. Yeah, she can read and write numbers up through 100. Probably higher, we've never tried that with her. Oh yeah, she can add, too.

She pointed out that Annabella had trouble remembering to point to the first letter in the word she doesn't know. Apparently that is the required step before they sound out the word. She noted though that Annabella could easily sound out a 3 or 4 letter word, because she knows her letter sounds so well. But she loses points because she doesn't point.

Actually, she can sound out 7 or 8 letter words and frequently does when she reads with me. Am I concerned about this arbitrary requirement? Not so much. Does that make me a bad mom?

Well here's the thing. Am I bad if I reinforce disrespect for arbitrary requirements? Clearly my child doesn't need to point to read or sound out difficult words. So...

Yeah, I guess I'll remind her, now that I know the rule. But really? I don't care.

Jan 29 2009

Recommendations

Of myself. It's not exactly a typical topic for the blog. And I promise I will return to adorable child antics shortly.

Lately, I've been working on my profile in LinkedIn.com. It's been interesting.

I've asked a few people for recommendations, mostly in an attempt to get them before they forget who I am. If you know me at all, you know that I hate asking anyone for anything, under most any circumstance. So, it has been a nice stretch for me. Like yoga for the psyche.

Someone wrote this recommendation for me and I have to share it. Seriously, I am floored by the magnanimity of this gesture. This recommendation? Yeah, it's better than the one my college advisor wrote to help me get into graduate school.

"Dawn is always in front of the curve anticipating and reacting with a calm and professional attitude when the unexpected happens. Dawn has the kind of raw intelligence you find immediate comfort with as a colleague. She has developed her writing and marketing skills to be diverse and effective. I trust and recommend Dawn highly as do others in our organization. She carries the best of ethics and an owner mentality approach that has earned my respect."

That made my day. My week, even. Thanks Tony!

Jan 23 2009

In-Tro-Spection, for Excitement and Emotion

Today when I was outside my house briefly, I notice a bunch of spider web remnants under the roof overhang. Yes, it is the middle of Winter here.

It reminded me of a time when my extremely fussy neighbor was having a party. She didn't invite us, that's OK. Just before her guests began to arrive, she walked over to my house with her broom and began to clean the cobwebs and other spider remnants off of the roof overhang. On my house. All that ran through my head was to grab my broom and go out and chase her off with it.

I think there is a character flaw here.

I just can't decide if it is my lack of attentiveness regarding cobwebs or my urge to harm my neighbor with a broom.

Could be both.

Jan 18 2009

Retrospect

Last night I got to hang out with some of my friends from college. You should all have shocked looks on your faces now.

It was great. Easily one of the most enjoyable baby showers I've ever been to. Mine was great, but mine was an oasis of traditional girly escapism, as Annabella was still in the hospital. This was just relaxed joy, guests decorating onesies, great food, and really fantastic company.

When one of the guests heard that I had been in town a year before getting in touch with anyone from the old days, I actually said out loud in front of witnesses, "I didn't imagine anyone would want to see me." It's true, but I don't usually say these things out loud. I guess I have felt that when I left right after graduation, I severed a lot of ties. That on the rare occasion when I later reached out to a few of the people from college, well, let's just say it didn't go so well.

Oh, and I didn't get in touch this time. Jen found me on facebook, shocked the hell out of me. And I'm glad.

Last night was a very timely reminder for me that there have been great pockets of joy in my life when I've taken time away from worries and serious pursuits. When I took my nose off the grindstone of school work and my mind off making rent and just, well, was. An excellent reminder to be in the moment and let the future take care of itself once in a while.

Jan 06 2009

Semblance

Yesterday I got my house back into some kind of order. I confirmed tickets for Sesame Street Live. I deposited the gift checks we received for Christmas. I undecorated the tree and put all the decorations away. I caught up on laundry. I think I even managed to finish a paying copywriting gig, and request a recommendation for it on LinkedIn.

All that, and I played with Redding. No, really, I did.

Can you tell that Annabella is back in school?

I have no idea how I managed last year. I have no idea how I'll manage this Summer, either. I guess there will be less colds, I won't have to clean the entry as much, there should be less laundry by volume, and we spend most of the summer at the Y swimming or at the parks...

Is it Summer yet?

Dec 30 2008

Metrics

I'd be willing to wager that if I took a look back over the last 4 years...

That December and January are decidedly lacking in posts.

Some part of me can't stand the wicked ups and downs of this time of year. The joy of sharing traditions with those you love. The heartache at being away from those you love.

Expectations and irritations. Heightened everything. Drama everywhere it seems.

I bake the cookies, I have that sickness. Everyone else is just plain old crazy.

Dec 23 2008

Out of Touch

This morning I called my 9 o'clock appointment, to find him in his car.

He said that he was watching the cars around him on the highway drop like flies.

Vaguely in the back of my head, I recall Andrew telling me that we would get 5 - 10 inches of snow last night.

Right.

Clearly I hadn't set my sights on leaving the house this morning.

Dec 05 2008

Late Night Fun

Yesterday was Andrew's birthday. (Happy Birthday Andrew!)

We had his parents over and a nice dinner. Some lousy cupcakes and ice cream, a few gifts.

When it was time to call it a night, I was in the master bath brushing my teeth. Andrew came in, and eyed the 3 glasses partially filled with water that lined the counter. (Sometimes there are even more, and yet I wonder why we don't have enough glasses...) There was last nights, the night before, and the night before.

Andrew picked up "the night before" glass and just as he was about to take a sip, I stopped the SonicCare toothbrush and said softly, "contaminated."

Sadly, he didn't spew the water back out his nose. But he got a good laugh.

I have a problem, I know this. He worries someday he'll come home and I'll have dismantled the baby monitor and the kids and I will be wearing tinfoil hats.

Contaminated.

Dec 02 2008

Pavlovian

I've been reading the blog Dooce for a long time. Yesterday I actually commented for maybe the second time in five years.

Heather is going through her second pregnancy and finding herself spending a lot of time nauseous in the fetal position. I sympathize. Not everyone finds pregnancy a magical glowy time.

Why am I telling you this? Because my kids are watching a little Playhouse Disney this morning. They are off to a snotty, coughing slow start this morning. So what's new this Winter? Right? Well, apparently there will be new episodes of the Wiggles on Playhouse Disney in the new year.

Now, if you know me, you know that I can not watch the wiggles. And it has nothing to do with low production value, badly done character costumes, or even their Australian accents. I find all that oddly charming.

Nope, the reason I can't watch the Wiggles, at all, not even a commercial, is that when I was first pregnant with Redding, newly back from my Grandmother's funeral... Annabella was 3 and obsessed with the one Wiggles video we had. We had no cable, no broadcast channels, nothing at the time. So, there I was totally sick to my stomach with All-Day Sickness, and the Wiggles an almost constant drone in the background.

Eventually the nausea went away and Bel got over her Wiggles fanaticism. But to this day I can not watch a single moment of the Wiggles without feeling a little queasy. Hopefully Redding will never go through a similar phase.

Nov 26 2008

Out of the Mouths of Babes

So, we're driving in the car today. We went to Target to pick up a few stray items.

Annabella said she wanted hotdogs for lunch. I said, "That sounds good, everyone loves hotdogs."

She said, "Except parents."

I was surprised to hear that. It's true, Andrew and I don't eat as many hotdogs as the kids. So I shot back,"We like them just fine, we just don't want them as often as you and your brother do."

She said, "Unless they are chili-dogs."

Called out. Like that. I was so surprised, "I said you're pretty observant, you know that?"

"Mom, what's observant?"

"Well, that means that you notice things, you see or hear things, and they mean something to you, so you remember them. Like how you noticed and remembered that Dad and I like chili-dogs."

"I remember lots of things."

"You sure do."

"I remember when we first went to Aptos."

"Really? You know, you were just a tiny baby when we first took you to Aptos, to Auntie Tammie and Uncle Joe's house, and the beach there."

"I miss it."

"I know you do, sweetie. I miss it, too. Sometimes I miss it real bad." Yes, that is what I really said. Now, wait for it...

"Me, too, Mom. Sometimes I miss it very badly."

And that's how she rolls. My 5 year old has better grammar than I do.

Nov 23 2008

Confessions

I said to a friend recently...

Having fulfilled a lifelong dream, I lived in a cottage at the beach for 4 years. It was an amazing beautiful experience.

Then I confessed...

You know, I was surprised to find when it was over that I didn't write a single poem the entire time.

That is maybe reason enough to turn off my internal editor, find a new dream, and start writing more than moments of childhood captured in time.

Nov 19 2008

Distribute This

I know I've said a million times that I would never go over to the dark side. I would never become a salesperson.

But I'm actually working on doing a little bit of sales in my spare time. It isn't candles, frozen cookie dough, make-up, or Amway.

It's a great product for anyone who needs to market their products or facilitate real-time communication. Wireless, it's the future.

Officially, I'm a distributor. So no one should feel any pressure. But what's in a name?

Nov 04 2008

I Voted

And so should you.

Annabella voted yesterday at school and "Rock" Obama won. I keep trying to tell her that that is not his name. She will hear none of it. I think it bodes well for former pro wrestlers running for president in about 12 years.

Annabella was very happy there was a woman running, though not for president. She can not understand why she wasn't running for president. But when I asked her why she voted for Obama over "the girl" she said, "I've been wanting to vote for Obama for like 20 years."

That is her new favorite time estimate. It was 5 minutes, now it's 20 years.

She's been smitten since she got an Obama necklace at the July 4th parade in 2006. Proving that the girl can be bought and cheaply.

When the dust settles, like my friend Mindi, I hope there is a decisive victory. I also hope that this election will be a turning point for a lot of people. It's not enough to merely vote and express your opinion once every 4 years. These are our elected officials and we need to hold them to their word.

I think it's clear to everyone in the country that something has got to change. So, in the words of Mahatma Gandhi, you all should go out there today with renewed determination to "Be the change you want to see in the world."

I will, too.

Oct 30 2008

Welcome to My World

The sun is shining, the ambient air temperature is over 50 degrees, the children are giggling and playing nicely...

I bought beer and wine at Costco, and even got to shop around a little bit.

I have great pictures and movies of the kids to share and have reconnected with some very nice friends.

I even got to do some freelance work this week, actually use my brain a wee bit.

So, if I say it's Friday, it's frickin' Friday, alright?

Don't point out reality and no one will get hurt. (This means you, Jenkins.)

Oct 23 2008

Interest - You Tell Me - Then Tell Everyone Else

You may not believe it, but I've been writing this blog now for 4 years.

Happy Anniversary to AnotherSunrise.

Honestly the blog started to fill in some gaps. First, I needed to write again. Second, I needed to somehow compensate for Annabella's lack of a baby book. Third, Andrew got too busy to keep up his chronicles. The chronicles that began at Annabella's unexpectedly early birth.

Some crazy things have happened in the last few years. At home and with the blog. It has been a great tool to keep friends and family in touch with our family since I always seem to be living far away from someone I love.

Did you know that at one time, if you were to google "preemie and Ferber", my blog post on getting a preemie to sleep through the night is the top result? Shocking, but sadly no longer true.

Ah well. That's life. Right? You can't just sit back on your laurels and expect the world to come to you.

But I'm looking for input from my readership and maybe a helping hand in growing.

What do you like to see when you pull up AnotherSunrise?
What do you least like to see?

Would you be interested in a recipe section, since I do talk about cooking?

Would you be willing to recommend the site to others?

Comments are open (as they always are, people!) for your feedback, which I very much appreciate.

Oct 23 2008

Can't Win

In an effort to save time, energy, and money I switched up my whole meal scenario by purchasing things that I can make big pots of and enjoy for days with the family.

Which is fine. I'm getting better about eating leftovers. Really. It's just that now there is most of what is left from a 4 lb. roast and all the trimmings in the fridge and also a chicken that needs to be made into soup.

Grrrrr.

So, I guess I'll make soup today and put it away for tomorrow and then make leftover roast for dinner.

Then, maybe I'll invite over another dozen or so people to eat all this food, as apparently I forgot that there are only 4 members in my little household. And one of those won't eat potatoes or beef. Yes, I have the makings of a nice tofu stirfry and another batch of cuban black beans and rice ready to be made when the rest of the beef and chicken run out.

Maybe, just maybe, then I'll re-re-think dinners for the coming week, as despite the multitudes of dinners waiting to be prepared, we're almost out of milk, bread, and fruit.

Oct 18 2008

Reading

So, with Halloween on the way, it is so appropriate that I have read the four Twilight, teenage vampire book series. Right?

Though I don't know if I'll ever read them again, they have been enjoyable page turners.

If you plan on reading the series, don't read any further, you may spoil some surprises for yourself.

At one point there is a description of a birth, the birth of a monster, and it was eery the things that I identified with. The fact that having the baby almost killed the mother, the way the mother was completely without perspective on the situation, the way the baby was shown to the mother then whisked away, the way the mother felt the baby within and the baby on the outside were two different things that needed to be reconciled, and the way the mother was pretty much completely incapacitated for days afterward. Once the mother finally got up and about she was oddly hurt that everyone seemed to know so much about her child than she did.

It made me wonder if the author had any experience with preeclampsia or preemies.

Anyway. Good read. Check it out here.

Oct 09 2008

Two Thoughts

First, it turns out that Redding was in fact boycotting breakfast. No, he wasn't trying to make a political statement by soundly refusing every kind of fruit and cereal I threw at him. No, he really didn't care for my whole wheat toast. Peanut butter or no peanut butter, and certainly no real butter. Jam, jelly, no thank you very much.

It all came clear this morning as he scarfed down the first piece of sourdough toast he's seen in months. Yes, my friends, my son ate breakfast. Thank your lucky stars. I know I'm thanking mine.

Second, you should not need a band-aid to cover the bleeding left by the band-aid that covered your flu shot. Seriously band-aids should not remove skin. Where does my doctor's office buy these industrial strength band-aids? Parts of my skin are gone. Ouch!

Oct 03 2008

Chemical Dependency

Annabella told me the other day that she missed the smell of coffee in the house. At her age, I'd already had many a cup of old fashioned percolated coffee, loaded with lots of sugar and milk. My grandparents were more than a little indulgent when it came to me. After all, if coffee was good enough for them, and their chihuahua Goober, and The Duke, coffee was good enough for me.

Maybe it shouldn't cross my mind that if Nana and Pop had been shooting heroine at the time, that would have been good enough for me, too. Perspectives on parenting certainly do change a lot over time. And grandparents were made to indulge children.

Sep 16 2008

When my own words bite me

Annabella says, "Mom, can I have a little glass of juice?"
I reply, "Yes, there's a little left from your lunch, I put it in the fridge."

Annabella, "Thanks." She goes, gets it, drinks it down and then says, "Can I have some more?"

I reply, "You can have some water, how about that?"

To which she says, "Apparently, I'm done." And with that she puts her cup on the counter and flounces out of the kitchen.

Sep 16 2008

Shouldn't Eavesdrop

There was a lady in my yoga class this morning talking about a baby that cried every time it was laid down (flat, like in a crib).

I was eavesdropping and I shouldn't have been. I know. But I excused myself, apologized for eavesdropping, and mentioned that with my children it was much the same, that reflux and lactose intolerance kept my youngest from sleeping well on his own until we identified them.

The lady utterly dismissed me with, "But the baby is only 2 weeks old." And never gave me another look.

The woman she was talking to was then telling her about swaddling. Apparently the baby isn't swaddled at all. Between the two of them they couldn't decide if the arms should go straight down at the sides of in front.

Why was I so frustrated? Well, honestly I wasn't frustrated at all after yoga class. That is the joy of yoga. But I will now go on to tell the internet what I really wanted to tell that poor woman.

Hi, whether babies are full-term or preemies, when you swaddle, it is best to bring the arms together at midline, in a way that is natural and comfortable for your particular baby. Oh, and by the way, babies can have both reflux and lactose intolerance at 2 weeks old, whether they are breast fed for formula fed. Believe me, I know. All I wanted to do was save you (really, your daughter, the baby's mother) 9 painful months of a child that sleeps poorly, and only in an inclined position or while being held.

YOU CAN NOT SPOIL A NEWBORN. The baby is not just being difficult because the mother hasn't put it down enough. YOU DOLT.

OK. Now, after that, and yoga, I'm extra super not frustrated anymore.

Sep 15 2008

Things That Test Your Parenting Fortitude (Now With Photos!)

1) The first time your baby cries so hard and for so long that you think they are broken, and nothing, no nothing, you do will calm them.

Sad Girl

2) The first time your baby throws a full-body arch at you and you nearly drop them, or you do drop them.

Watch It

3) The first time they throw up in the bathtub.

Yucky Face

4) The first time they poop in the bathtub.

Tubby Time Girl Tubby Time Boy

5) The first time they look you right in the eye and tell you, "NO!"

Attitude

6) The first time they get outside by themselves.

Outta Here

7) The first time your monkey child manages to reach a dirty diaper you are certain they can't reach, as you leave the room to answer the phone. You quickly take care of the call and find the house oddly quiet. Suddenly, you hear a noise. Your child is calling for you on the other side of the gate. They seem odd as you approach. The smell. Good god. Is that... Poop? All over my child's hands and clothes? Oh, no, don't put that hand in your mouth!!!! What is wrong with you? Here, no, here, quickly, you strip the child, wash their hands, check the face and mouth. You secure the child in their crib, once you are certain they are clean. Then you go find the source. The dirty diaper, spread across the floor, where clearly little hands have been unearthing a new treasure. With. No. Is that? Oh, yes. It is. A spoon.

Sep 02 2008

Quirks and Uh Oh Moments

I have a bad habit of teasing Annabella when she's not listening. If I ask her a question about what she'd like to eat for lunch and she doesn't answer, I'll rephrase it into, "Will you have squirrel cheese and crackers?" If she's not listening to the book I'm reading to her, I'll change all the characters to squirrels. It's pretty funny. At least for me.

Sweet Cheeks

So, we were having a conversation like that this weekend. I asked if she'd like a squirrel sandwich for lunch. She quickly yelled (as she is wont to do when I pull her leg like that), "We don't eat squirrels!"

I said, "You're right. WE don't. But we could. Really. I'm sure some people do."

To which she calmly and coolly replied, "But, Mama, we don't eat ANIMALS."

Now, the connection of steak to cow, bacon to pig, sure I get the confusion there. But the girl has been bemoaning eating CHICKEN for her entire talking life. And she happily eats turkey hot dogs, turkey lunchmeat, turkey meatballs, and turkey pepperoni. There's no mystery here. Old McDonald had a farm and frequently on his farm he has chickens and turkeys.

Perhaps she meant, "We eat birds, not animals." But I doubt it. I shot an incredulous look at Andrew and he said, "Don't get into this conversation now, we'll have an adamant vegetarian on our hands."

I know he's right. She's never been a big fan of meat. But even through her complaining about chicken, she'll eat it if she doesn't know what it is. Turn it into a nugget shaped like a dinosaur? She'll eat the hell out of it.

It takes me back to the day I connected meat to animals. I was not yet 6 years old. My mom was driving my little sister and I to the "grocery store" full of cheap meat and dented cans attached to, well, a slaughterhouse. The whole place smelling of blood. I never liked it, but there were no choices for children then, were there. There certainly weren't in my family. We were poor. We shopped where mom could afford to feed us all.

I don't remember the specific conversation, but I do remember the shock and disgust that I had been eating animals. The place smelled bad, because it smelled of the blood of dead animals. Dead animals that I would be eating. By dinner time that night, I was over it. I was hungry and that is what was for dinner.

I'm sure the conversation is coming. It is looming on the horizon. The dread is mounting.

It's really too bad I can't just turn on Dennis Leary's "No Cure for Cancer" for her. He is so poetic when he says, "Meat tastes like murder and murder tastes pretty god damn good."

Aug 21 2008

Updates

Apparently I need to make a new resolution: To stop making resolutions I don't keep.

Or something.

August is my birthday month. I turned 36 this year. And then my fingers stop typing. It's a stumper for me. Two times 18. I'm in my late re-teens! Whoooohooo! In all seriousness, I have no consciousness of being that old. Like once I entered adulthood, my age self-concept entered suspended animation. Like somehow I could wake up 14 years from now (seriously, not that long considered I've already lived twice that long) and go, "Uh, no, sorry there's no way I'm 50 years old."

I wanted to have a fit when I turned 30, but as it turns out it was less than 2 months after I got married and Andrew surprised me with 30 roses at a small party for me at my sister Karen's house. Trauma averted.

This year I'm not even traumatized, just surprised, maybe?

Enough about me.

Annabella is 5. That is a show stopper. She's starting Kindergarten in less than 2 weeks. That is a heart stopper. Why so bunged up emotionally? Well, once upon a time, I sat in a small enclosed garden at Lucille Packard Children's Hospital, in a wheelchair. Next to me was my sister Tammie. It was our first visit together after Annabella was born and I was a crying, wretched wreck. One of the thoughts circling my brain endlessly was, "what if I never get to see her off for her first day of school?"

What if. A million miracles later: here she goes!

And she's 5, people! Five. So there's a lot of learning going on every day, about how to behave and such. Just learning how to be, in the world. There's a lot of head butting, because we are both stubborn. There's a lot of frustration, because we both want to get our own way.

In the day to day of "why can't you just eat a meal without being reminded 87 times to eat?" it is hard to keep perspective on what a delight and wonder it is that we are right here, right now, doing these things we do.

She's so amazingly normal (if still maintaining the same level of stubbornness and self possession that has kept her with us through, well, many hurdles, shall we say) that it is hard to even entertain who she is now and where she started out.

Once again, when she's 15 there will be no, "But mom, I can't learn Trigonometry, I had brain bleeds! I was a micro-preemie! I was born three and a half months too early! It's really all your fault!"

I'm not buying it. But I still do, honestly, try to appreciate it. From time to time.

Redding? Oh, danger boy? He's fantastic. Yeah, he's already passed up the milestones for 18 month olds now (he's just 16 months, but was 7 weeks early). Just now I watched him walk up the stairs. Walk. Not climb or crawl. Walk. And no, he can't reach the hand rail. Preemie, what? Adjusted age? Never even entered the picture. Crazy. I'm pretty sure he said "Nicholas" twice today, too.

Be sure to check out the pictures, too, for some amusement. For his actual age, he is in the 40th percentile for height, the 30th percentile for weight, and, oh yeah, the 90th percentile for head circumference. It's a wonder he can stand upright, right?

I'll be uploading a bunch of pictures to Flickr, and posting some here in the coming days.

Summer is drawing to a close, and I will not be sorry to say goodbye to the too hot, too humid Minnesota Summer. Fall is the most beautiful time of year here, anyway.

Hope you've made it successfully through the mire of updates here. Don't be a stranger. Drop me a line or leave me a comment from time to time, would ya? I don't like writing in a vacuum.

Aug 07 2008

Coming Down

It is very quiet here this morning. A small thing which I am grateful for. Yesterday was too full of Redding fussing. All I can think of is maybe he misses people, animals, places, and things he got to do in California. He had no fever, his molars are mostly in, and no other identifiable physical issues.

Or maybe I'm projecting.

He's decidedly unavailable for comment, so I'll go with projecting.

Now, don't get me wrong. It is nice to be back in our house. To have a room of one's own, as it were. It is amazing to be here and have such a wonderful bunch of friends and family visit for Annabella's birthday.

But I think growing up in such a large family, I mostly miss having so much daily contact with Tammie, Joe, Bailey, Kayla, my mom. I know, weird, right? Because living in a house with so many, well, adults or practically adults, you have to be thoughtful, a lot. You need to look to the common good, you need to shine it on. And that? That can kick your ass like nothing else. It is emotionally draining. In a good way.

Now, the trade off of wildfires for tornadoes, of homeless people for neighbors who are ignorant of dog etiquette (not to mention leash laws and common respect)... It would be darn near impossible to say which way the scales would lean.

Impartiality being impossible, I can say that it is sweet, comfortable and yes, even a bit lonely to be home again.

I've got birthdays and child updates to catch up on in the next few days. Plus, perhaps once I turn 36 I will be more diligent about getting a post up every day. Yes, I keep looking forward to milestones and guessing that sooner or later one of them will make me a good person. Either that or I heard someday monkeys might fly out... Never mind.

Jul 31 2008

Insurance Insanity

Many of you have read our health insurance saga. (Tammie: This is not a rant.) Here is the latest installment of that always funny (like a toothache) story.

Just before leaving Minnesota in June, we received notice from the clinic the kids go to that they would be joining a larger network of affiliated offices. This didn't scare me, because our former association with Palo Alto Medical Foundation (Thanks Jodi, we really owe you a million for this recommendation!) meant that when I was in trouble in my pregnancy with Annabella we were sent to Stanford / LPCH. So, OK, great, larger network. Good. Our pediatrician there, who specializes in post-NICU preemies? PRICELESS.

Just before leaving California, we received news from our insurance company (the one that covers Andrew, Annabella and Redding). They have decided not to include the clinic we take the children to in their coverage anymore.

Apparently, joining that network means charging more money. And our insurance company doesn't want to pay more money.

Now that we're home we have a nice letter from the clinic explaining that they will still see us, that they are still negotiating with the insurance company. That they home to have things cleared up by the end of August.

This morning I made an appointment for both the kids to be seen (15 month & 5 year/ school appointments). We're getting in under the deadline. Oh, and this has most assuredly lit the fire I needed to get at least the rest of my family switched to a different health insurance.

Crazy.

Jul 30 2008

Home Safe

We all slept well in our own beds last night. The house is looking amazing, thanks to much work by Andrew and his parents during the middle of our Summer vacation.

I'd say more, but I need to rest up, so I can put on a birthday party this weekend.

Jul 13 2008

Special Effects

A friend of mine was complimenting me on my blog last night (thank you so much!). She was remarking on the unique quality of certain photos posted here.

Mostly we about how they look like some kind of special effect was used to achieve that background. In reality, it is just the big old stainless steel refrigerator in our kitchen in Minnesota. I'm not a photoshop whiz, I barely know enough to be dangerous.

Here is another Annabella special effect. In this photo it looks like I somehow manipulated the light or found her a spotlight to sit in to put her shoes on. Nope. Just my girl, putting her shoes on. Just me taking a regular old picture on my camera. Yet somehow, she winds up in the spotlight.

Shoe On Glow

Truly, if I take enough pictures, sooner or later at least one of them will be interesting.

Jul 12 2008

Painting Ceramics

Yesterday afternoon, Tammie suggested that I take Annabella out to do some fun stuff after I put Redding down for his afternoon nap. It was an amazing rare treat to spend some one on one time with Annabella. She asked if we could go to the old mall we used to go to. I said, "We could do that, we could go shop around Capitola and watch the surfers, or we can go paint some pottery."

There was no hesitation. Painting? With you? Oh yeah!

Painting, Yeah!

We went to the small locally owned place in Aptos, but it was closed for Summer vacation. So sadly we set off to go to the mall. I remembered then that there is a Petroglyph in Santa Cruz, so we drove up there and miraculously found a free parking spot in the ramp, on a warm Friday in July. Miracles.

Ceramics with Mama

Annabella loved picking her own paints, shaking them up, putting them on her palette. She loved picking her own piece, a lidded jewelry box shaped like a butterfly. She loved meeting other kids, charming the staff, playing with the train table (brilliant), and hiding in the movie cave.

We had lots of good talks. She got to be very grown up and independent. Walking across the room to get us fresh water for our brushes. Cleaning her own greenware. Deciding what part to paint which color. She even helped me pick out some colors for the teddy bear bank I painted, and helped me paint it. Oh, and did I mention that she found a raised area with a couch that she decided would make a good stage? She put on songs, dances, and skits, all by herself.

Petroglyph Stage, Artist as Signpost

This last picture, I think is from her rendition of "Death of a Salesman."

For Serious

Just kidding. She was just showing her range. A good time was had by all.

Jun 25 2008

Leaving on a Jet Plane

We, the Von Jenkinschtein family singers, are off on a yodeling tour of the Alps this afternoon.

We will return to the land of 10,000 lakes, 5 environmentalists, and endless Summer itching and sweating sometime this Summer. Closer to Fall, the best season to live here.

I will do my best to keep the blog updated with plenty of pictures of fun, fog, beachy goodness, the shortest 4th of July parade in the world, much wedding festivities, and growing beautiful children.

Wish us safe and sane family travels.

Jun 18 2008

No Way

This morning, during morning nap I pulled out all the dresses in my closet to find something appropriate to wear to Matt and Emily's wedding next weekend.

Although it is completely not appropriate, I tried on the red and white hibiscus dress I bought on our honeymoon in Hawaii.

To my great shock and amazement, it fits better than it did when I bought it.

I'd like to thank my son, Redding, for getting so big and independent. And I'd like to thank my sister Karen for asking me to be a bridesmaid in July. And I'd like to thank Andrew for convincing me to join the YMCA.

Yahoo!

Jun 17 2008

What are people thinking?

On our way home today, we stopped for gas.

As I started the pump, I looked behind me, at the car on the other side of the pump behind me. A woman in the passenger seat of that car had her window open. Her hand was hanging out, it was fairly close to the pump.

Then something hit my nose. In her hand was a lit cigarette. As I stood there, stunned, willing the gas to go into my car faster, the gentleman she was with came out from the gas station, around the car, very near that lit cigarette, and began pumping gas into that car.

The noise in my head is maybe the closest I've ever been to a fugue state. As soon as I regained my senses, I quickly stopped pumping gas, and hurried into my vehicle where my two small sleeping children waited, and drove off like a careful bat out of hell.

Oh My God.

Did I take a left turn and wind up in hillbilly hell, where gas is not combustible? Have they not at least seen Zoolander? Come on, people.

Jun 13 2008

Ahh... Mexico

I was just eating lunch with the kids, daydreaming about vacations in Mexico.

The fresh pitchers of watermelon, cantaloupe, pineapple, and orange juices every morning. We don't drink nearly enough melon juices here in the U.S.

Jun 10 2008

No Bovine Love

I seriously can not cook a piece of beef to save my life.

I tried to (drum roll, please) broil a London Broil.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

When is a London Broil not a London Broil? When you set the ring of your hot pad on fire with the broiler, give up, and finish cooking the ultra raw interior in the microwave.

Then it's a London, uh, Nuker? London Decimation? London Bridges Falling Down?

And why, oh why don't they make the ENTIRE hot pad flame retardant?

Jun 09 2008

Smelly

There is one thing about this time of year and my new house, that almost makes up for the swarms of mosquitoes that dive bomb me at every opportunity.

That once pathetic looking bush in front of the living room window? Well, it is now in full bloom. Any time I open the front windows the whole house is filled with the smell of lilacs.

That is a beautiful thing. Here I am, someone who doesn't really like strong smells. Then there's lilac.

Jun 05 2008

Olfactorily Speaking

Unintentional appetite suppressant.

I bought an enormous box of tall kitchen garbage bags. Unfortunately the term 'odor shield' does not mean that the bags somehow keep odors contained. It means that they are scented, and they will smell stronger than anything you put in your garbage. Diapers, onions, egg shells, you name it: they smell worse.

The upside is that I haven't been spending a lot of time in the kitchen snacking on things. Because every time I step into the kitchen, I lose my appetite.

Mmm... Smells like garbage bag! Now with new stench overpowering scent! With the power to stop the urge to eat from 15 feet away, even if concealed inside a cabinet! You'll want one in every room you eat in. Our new 'eating shield' technology means nothing will taste good, as long as you're in smell range.

Eating shield, the new scent of skinny.

Jun 02 2008

I Love Summer

We've been having a good old time since Annabella got out of school. I forgot how great it can be to experience that freedom. Not that I imagine that going to preschool for 4 hours a week was terribly stressful for Annabella. But she seems to be enjoying her new freedom.

Magic Act

That's My Sweet Boy

Silly Face Girl

Red doesn't much notice the difference. But he sure does love having his big sister around.

May 30 2008

SaTC

I saw it last night at midnight.

Really. I did. I have a friend who is apparently as nuts as I am. We met for drinks and then hit the movie. I got to sleep in this morning, until almost 8. Which is good considering I didn't get home until 3.

Was the movie worth it? Maybe. Was getting out without our (combined) 5 children? Hell yes.

If you loved the show, you should see the movie.

Personally, the first time I saw the show I was overwhelmed that all four of the main characters were these slutty, desperate women, wholly consumed with finding the man, but settling so often for a man. The entire show, the entire first season on DVD actually, went so against my feminist beliefs that I had a hard time watching it. But somehow the characters were compelling enough to keep me watching the entire season.

And, while I may never really understand being obsessed with haute couture (half the time Carrie, the fashion icon ,looks like an escapee from clown college to me), purses that cost more than your rent, shoes that will cause pain and permanent damage to your feet, or having sex with complete strangers... I've seen the whole series, I own the second half of the last season, and I saw the movie the night before it opened in theaters. Crazy.

May 29 2008

Rags to 'Are You Kidding Me?'

I like to think of myself as fairly unobservant. But what do I mean?

I form a mental image of people, when we meet or over time. I do not, then, scrutinize them every time I see them. New haircut? Unless it is extreme, I am unlikely to notice. I may tell you that you look nice, but I won't know why.

I'm just funny that way, I guess.

Now Andrew, he takes note of a lot of things, but there is one thing which he seems to be blind to. What constitutes a rag?

When we moved into the beach house and Andrew set up a desk in the garage, he needed a curtain for the window. Something handy, that's not unattractive, oh and free is good. What did he do? He pulled an antique tablecloth from a box and stapled it to the wall around the window.

I must admit, it looked good. But then, of course it looked good. It was an extremely rare, bright red (my favorite color and the color I always wanted to decorate my kitchen) tablecloth that was almost completely unfaded. It had a large red field in the middle and a semi-abstract tulip motif around the edges. It was great.

The sun beating on the side stapled toward the window did a real number on it and it was ruined by the time I took much notice of it. If I'd noticed immediately, it might have been saved. The staples might not have left large holes, one side might not already be pink instead of red...

Oh well. Maybe my mother-in-law will find me another some day. But maybe she won't buy it for me because I apparently don't know how to take care of things. Who knows?

Over the weekend, with the work being done on the deck, there was much saw dust and commotion in the garage. Andrew needed something to help clean up the wood before he sealed it. With no less than 4 boxes of outgrown clothes in the basement, where did Andrew turn?

To the the linen closet.

He pulled out a virtually unused WHITE filigree hand towel.

When I went outside I actually made the very calm observation that, "well, that is an interesting choice for a clean-up rag."

Andrew, "It's only sawdust."

Internal monologue, "Good lord, what is wrong with this man? Note to self: Take large box, fill with old things that are non good for ebay or donations. Label it in large red letters: RAGS."

Out loud, under my breath, as I walk away: "I love my husband, I love my husband, I love my husband, I love my husband."

This.

This is why we don't have nice things.

Love you, honey.

May 19 2008

Medicine

If you have spoken with me in person, you know that in general I am not a big fan of doctors. I've met a number of poor examples to the profession, outside of my child-bearing experience.

I once asked a dermatologist I'd gone to, to recommend a sunscreen that wouldn't clog my pores. She said, "I don't know anything about that, but maybe we can do something about the blackheads on your nose?" I replied, "What? I have blackheads on my nose?" She was a real treat. Not that I let her treat me for anything.

Anyhow, on Friday evening, after a week of increasingly painful headaches, I went to Urgent Care. I told the doctor, "I think I have a sinus infection." She asked me to describe what I've been feeling, I told her, she said, "Sounds like a sinus infection to me. Are you allergic to Amoxicillin?"

Today, I have almost no headache for the first time in over a week. It is the best feeling. It is such a relief to have a diagnosis, some drugs, and then to just feel better.

Medicine, it actually can work.

May 13 2008

Maudlin

OK, I could actually kick my own maudlin ass for the self-indulgent mother's day post.

Surely, at some point I will stop needing to reexamine the start of my children's lives.

I know of one sister of mine, at least, who, while she is sad that I no longer live so close by, is undoubtedly quite please that she does not need to relive the micro-preemie saga over again each time I have too many glasses of wine.

At this particular moment it seems a small relief that I am not telling that story over and over anymore. For crying out loud, the girl is almost 5.

I'm not making any promises people. I will still occasionally drink that extra glass of wine that makes me want to reminisce about life changing moments.

Telling just a wee bit of the "just" preemie story, on mother's day, very near his first birthday is not so bad.

Plus, I still do hope that new parents of preemies occasionally find this site.

These days I get the greatest surge of parental joy when I'm chatting with the other moms outside of preschool. Occasionally talk turns to the new little brothers and sisters, how big they are, how old they are, how much they weighed at birth.

Everyone is quite shocked that Red was just over 4 lbs. at birth. Shocking! Shockingly small! That's crazy! So imagine their faces when I tell them that Annabella was just 1.5 lbs. Floored. They see her twice a week, so energetic, so vivacious. She greets each kid in her class with tremendous enthusiasm, by name, every time. She is the only child who does this, it does not stop her. She races and dances, and has conversations with other kids parents. Not the parents I'm necessarily talking to. She's smart, happy, nice, outgoing, cute, tall... and she what What WHAT?

Here I go again. Bragging about my kids. They pretty much rule. Without a doubt. Early, late or on time, it doesn't mean a thing, they're pretty darn wonderful.

And apparently their mother is getting some sort of therapy, so she has that going for her, which is nice.

May 12 2008

Being a Mother

One of the thoughts I've had about being a mother, over the last year, is that I deserve some kind of metal for deciding to have another child. Having Redding was kind of a gift. It was the gift of a sibling for Annabella, hopefully he will be someone she can face the challenges of the world with. Someone to rely upon in the best and worst of times.

A gift to me, in that I am getting to experience what having a full-term child is like. Yes, Redding was born at 33 weeks, but you'd never know it. It is an amazing and precious gift to have a baby that is healthy, that you can read books about without terrifying yourself, that meets common milestones, that is snuggly and affectionate.

Really, though, I owe a great debt of gratitude to the love, support, well-wishes, and even prayers of my family and friends. Without their moral, and outright physical support, there is not way we would have made it to 33 weeks. Hell, without their support, I don't know that we would have made the decision to go forward.

I am grateful to each and every person who loved and supported us through the last 3 years that got us here.

Where is here? Redding has shed his infant persona and is just an amazing little boy. Annabella is no longer a little girl, but a curious, confident big sister. Everyone is healthy, bar the usual coughs and colds, things like that.

For me to survive preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome twice, well I am shocked by my own strength. HELLP can be fatal, in most cases the thing that kills is permanent liver damage or failure. In both cases, the symptom that signaled it was time to deliver was excruciating liver pain. The day Annabella was delivered, it had started as a nagging pain, which I tried to ignore. I didn't know any better. I was already hospitalized and felt like I was safe. Foolish me. With Redding, it woke be up the night before he was born. I feared it was the same pain, but was unsure because I wasn't out of my mind this time. I got up at like 4 a.m., had some breakfast, called my doctor. She told me to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. I said, "Can I wait until Andrew and Annabella wake up?" Yes, I did. She said that would be fine, as they would have to wait the surgery until they were certain I had digested my english muffin.

OK. Crazy. I also how fortunate I have been to have been under the care of some amazing doctors and nurses. (And one bad nurse who my doctor let have it. Post-partum is when the rest of the HELLP symptoms hit me, and I was on dueling IV's of pitocin and magnesium sulfate. I was retaining every ounce of fluid they let me have, meaning my kidneys weren't functioning. My head was pounding, I was weak. Not to mention that my abdomen was killing me, what with the fresh incision and all. And I could not stop throwing up. Laughing hurts with a fresh incision. Imagine throwing up. So, I push the nurses call button for maybe the third time and crying I tell the nurse, "Please help me, please give me something that will make me stop throwing up." She calls the doctor to tell her what whiner I am. The doctor reads her the riot act saying, "This woman is a trouper, she's been in pain for months now, and this is the first I've ever heard of her complaining. If she needs something, get it for her.")

I digress. That seems like a million years ago. Like it happened to someone else. Other people. Other tiny babies.

It's strange. For me, there's the idea of the baby, that lives in your head while you're pregnant. Once you give birth, that baby disappears or is reformed to coincide with the actual baby before you. For us, there is the tiny, fragile baby in the NICU. That baby disappears slowly, as they become ready to go home. There's the bigger (still tiny), less fragile baby you get to take home. The whole evolution of a person is so amazing to witness. I feel so amazingly fortunate to be able to witness and nurture them along.

One of my personal traditions is to thank Annabella and now Redding on Mother's Day. I thank them for making me a mom. They don't quite get it, yet. But it just seems like the right thing to do.

"Before you came along, I wasn't a mom. Now I am. You helped me to find the most amazing adventure of my life so far. Thank you."

May 09 2008

It's Just Wrong

I got a crazy e-mail this morning from Discovery Health Channel.

They wanted to send me a message, to tell me that they congratulate the Duggan family, who apparently appears on one of their shows, for the birth of the latest child.

They already had 14 children. Fourteen, of their very own biological children.

So, I sent Discovery Health Channel a special message of my own.

It read:

Yes, congratulations to the Duggar's. Single-handedly overpopulating our already stressed planet. Way to not give a crap about anyone else in the world.

Now, really, I do try to avoid judging others. Live and let live. Somehow, I could not control myself this morning.

May 07 2008

Sick

All four of us are now sick. I think Red picked up this little gem at the pediatricians office.
Not that it matters where it came from. Everyone is grouchy, ouchy, drippy, and sniffy.

All we deep are Dopey and Doc and we'd be all set.

Apr 30 2008

Bad Jokes

For some reason, I feel the need to remind people who read my blog on a regular basis, that I am a dork. Why do I need to tell them that, when I show them almost every time I post. Hmmm...

We have been talking about making some changes in our kitchen. We have big plans, small plans, costly plans, less-expensive plans, long-term plans, you name it. Firm plans? Not so much.

To this end, we have magazines, a book on kitchen planning, and DIY Network - thanks to DirecTV. In addition, thanks to our DVR, I watch Kitchen Renovations each evening while Red drinks his last bottle. Once Andrew gets Annabella put to bed, he joins me for the end of the show.

Last week, we watched an episode where the people installed Brazilian cherry floors. Andrew admired them when he entered the room. I said, "Want to know what they spent on that?" Which is actually a funny question, since they don't often give that information on the show.

Andrew says, "Sure." Sometimes he likes to humor me.

"About a Brazilian dollars." I laugh, he smirks.

Tonight, the people were installing a Brazilian granite counter. The finish was honed, not polished, and they noted that it then costs an additional $10 a square foot. I said, "How much do you think they spent then, on the counters for the whole kitchen?"

Andrew said, in total seriousness, "I don't know, what do you think?"

"At least a Brazilian dollars." I laugh.

Apr 30 2008

Ouch

Never in my life did I think I would repeat the phrase, "Get off your brother." so many, many times. Between pushing him out of the way with her foot, "accidentally" laying on him, taking toys away from him, taunting him with things he can't have, complaining to me that his baby food looks gross, and generally being jealous of any time or attention we give her brother, Annabella is actually glad to have a sibling.

How can I be so sure?

It is the way she quietly holds his hand when he falls asleep in the car. It makes my heart hurt, from sweetness.

Car Nap Part 2Car Nap Part 1

Apr 23 2008

Redding's Birthday Cake

Unfocused Classic 60's Birthday Picture

If my glasses were just a bit more cat eye or my hair was more bouffant, it would be the ultimate 60's kids birthday party picture.

Red was not super jazzed about the cupcake. Nope, he didn't care that I baked them myself, that they were flavored with vanilla and almond. Real almond, not fake. That they were filled with seedless raspberry jam. That I whipped up homemade buttercream frosting with a hint of lemon.

Do one year olds ever care about the cake? I wonder.

Apr 23 2008

The Mix Tape

I'm not certain if this story belongs under the heading "I'm getting old." or "Boys I've known." or even "A history lesson."

On Sunday, I found myself in a most unusual situation. I had a long drive ahead of me to go purchase a used kitchen sink (of all things) and Annabella was with me. None of the local stations were doing it for me, so I turned to the collection of mostly children's cassette tapes that has lived in the console of my old Corolla for almost 5 years now.

During the last move, we purged a lot of things that just don't get used in our little house. Among the things we tossed, donated, or tried to give away were my cassette tapes and Andrew's. Somehow, my sister Tammie managed to sneak mine out of the give-away pile and she has been keeping them for me at her house. Like Anne Frank, but no diary.

Among the nursery rhymes and Thomas the Tank Engine tapes, I found one mix tape. Just one where there had once been maybe a half dozen. And it made me smile.

The mix tape is a phenomena best explained by John Cusack's character in the movie "High Fidelity." If you don't remember, watch the movie again.

Today most every 10 year old has already mastered compiling a set for their iPod. The hours of finding, reviewing, cuing, timing (if your liner notes don't include song length), and formulating a mix are gone. There may still be some agonizing over the perfect overall tone of what you're putting together, but the pure love and devotion that went into a mix tape is lost.

My first boyfriend didn't make me a mix tape, but his best friend did. That is what I found in my car. And so began a problem I would have throughout high school and would not resolve until I got to college. The problem I had was falling for my boyfriend's friends. I went to quite a large high school and of the few boys I dated, I'd have to estimate that 4 of them were good friends, another 6 or so all knew each other. That doesn't include the couple I had crushes on and kept a secret. Hundreds of boys to choose from and the only ones I wanted anything to do with were all in one particular crowd.

Ridiculous, really. I should have been done with that from the very beginning, when the original two ganged up on me, pinned to the floor in one of their basements and were tickling me so seriously I almost peed my pants... That was the end of romance with either of them. Though I maintain I did break it off with my first boyfriend over the phone, at least 2 hours before I paid a visit to his best friend.

Maybe it is peculiar that we stayed friends. The two of them came to every party I had as a teen. Over the years of high school I had occasional crushes on each of them, over and over I'd fall for their style, their brains, their talent. Or be disillusioned by their less gallant teen choices.

Back then I felt like a bit of a romantic tragedy. Like no one would ever love me. It made for some dramatic poetry journal entries. Hindsight is a much clearer way to examine these things and I realized what my problem was. First, back then, I wouldn't have been able to admit to being the problem. And I wouldn't in a million years have seen what I was doing.

My problem was that I hadn't any idea what love was. Clueless. What I wanted, was to be adored. I wanted to be adored by whoever the object of my supposed affection was. So long as I didn't have to open up, or have to give of myself on any level.

Not that it matters. Not that it is of any great importance. It's not. Interesting to examine in retrospect, interesting to be at a point in my life where I can admit to flaws, identify them semi-objectively. Maybe rewrite my life outside of the frame of tragedy.

I was definitely always much more comfortable being friends with boys. Those friendships always proved much easier to maintain than friendships with other girls. That's another story for another day.

The point is that I thought I knew my own history. I found a mix tape which by its very existence flies in the face of the theory that no one loved me or that I was utterly unloveable. The fact of the matter was that it was much safer to be the tragic heroine of my own comedic existence.

And oh so much more fun to focus on the throes of teen romance drama than to focus on the real tragi-comedy that was my home life.

Anyhow. To my first boyfriend - I'm sorry. To my second boyfriend - Thanks for the tape. It still sounds great.

Apr 10 2008

What to Say?

We're working on Redding's first birthday party and the first party in our new house. Very exciting.

That's about all the news I've got today. We're just plugging along, trying to keep our schedules, take care of necessary maintenance, keep the house full of groceries, keep the kids growing and thriving.

Still waiting for Spring. We're supposed to have more SNOW tomorrow and Saturday.

I think that the social and blogging part of my brain has decided to hybernate in protest of the late Spring.

Oh well. Eventually, it will get here. And maybe this year we will appreciate the hell out of it.

Mar 31 2008

Exposed

Ever since Annabella discovered the joys of Dora the Explorer, we have talked a lot about Spanish. Annabella has enjoyed learning different words in Spanish from Dora and frequently asks me how to say certain things. I happily oblige.

Now I have been betrayed by Handy Manny. He also teaches Spanish words and phrases. But recently there was a hearing impaired person on the show. They showed Manny how to say some things in American Sign Language. Annabella really dug the sign for friendship.

She was really into the show and when it was over, I said it was lunch time. She said, "How do you say lunch in Sign Language?"

I said, "I don't know, but we can look it up."

She stood there staring me down, incredulous. Always when she asked me how to say things in Spanish, I knew. This? This I didn't know? How could that be? HOW CAN IT BE??!??!!

Mar 20 2008

Oh Yeah!

Last night, after being in a foul mood all day...

I played Free Bird on medium, on Guitar Hero II.

At that moment I just knew. Tomorrow will be a better day.

Mar 17 2008

Who Wants to Live with Me?

I was checking my e-mail this morning, chipper as can be, when Andrew came in to say hi while he put his shoes on.

I said, "Oh my god, did you just put your shoe on the dining room table to tie it?" Then, before he could answer, "That is just disgusting."

Do I really know how to have a warm, loving moment on a Monday morning, or what?

Now, if I was a pill-popping, ultra-submissive 50's style wife, I probably wouldn't have said a word, then bleached the hell out of the table after he left for work. Fortified with a hot breakfast and an awesome lunch I had packed specially for him the night before.

Oh well, until I develop a serious Valium habit, I will continue to be the snarky chick you all know and love. Happy Monday.

P.S. It is cruel and unusual to have a day of continuous heavy snow fall after enjoying a warm weekend watching it all melt.

Mar 03 2008

Lifestyles of the Sick and Whiney

Somehow Annabella, Redding and I all got sick this weekend. Today Red and Bel are doing a bit better. Less fever, less complaining.

Unfortunately, it is kicking my butt today. My head is in a fog, I am totally congested and coughing up a storm.

I've been meaning to get new pictures and a movie or two done, but it just isn't happening. I'm also in the middle of a data input project. Let's just say there won't be any numbers going in today. If I try, I'm afraid they won't be the right ones.

If you need me, I'll be on the couch.

Feb 28 2008

Talk Amongst Yourselves

A friend posted this on her blog today.

While I am down with the sentiment of man-bashing, "you have no idea what it is to be a woman", and I very much agree that having a period sucks...

It is this whole righteous, poor-me attitude which spawns the drama. The drama of the horror and pain and emotional rollercoaster... Blah blah blah. Hormones, grossness, you get the picture.

It is all that, which will keep a woman out of the White House.

For while we women know we are truly superior in every way; intelligence, empathy, beauty, environmentalism, negotiations, diplomacy, and so much more...

As long as we are willing to paint this picture of womanhood for the men around us, we will forever be; irrational, irresponsible, moody, unreliable, you get my drift... Then we will be stuck. Self limited, ultimately.

For as much as they have no idea what it is to be us, to be a woman, to experience what we do at the hands of nature, we also don't know what it is to be a man.

Well, we do know one thing. The one thing we know for certain about men? That they believe what we tell them about something that they can never experience.

So, shut it.

Feb 28 2008

No Cheese With Our Wine, Saturday Part II

It is about time I got this story wrapped up.

After Harvest Moon, we went to Hook and Ladder. Where we were capably served and entertained by Devin.

Now, my mother-in-law had asked me to have a glass of wine for her. So, I found a nice dry red, the kind of thing she would like, and I had Devin drink it for her. Now, why would that be? (And who wants a job where you can stand around being charming and drinking wine all day?)

Because as Tammie, Deb, and Jackie pointed out, Devin looks a little like...

A slight resemblance

Her favorite... Johnny Depp.

Debra Jenkins, this one is for you.

The owner, Mr. DeLoach, sold DeLoach winery to a French company. Poor guy, a former Palo Alto fireman, sold his own name and founded Hook and Ladder. The wines here are good, it is a place worth finding.

What else can I say about this day? Just one more thing. If you want a terrible meal and a surreal "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover" experience, then go to this place: Oh my god. I've completely blocked out the name of the place. Just as well. It probably doesn't exist anymore.

Suffice it to say, it is a prix fixe menu, where you have amazing access to the chef. Only with items on the menu like "Pork Terrine" which was cold, tasteless, and gelatinous, bearing a striking resemblance to congealed pork fat, well, then you wish the chef would go away so that you can safely avoid telling him what a farce his restaurant is. Fish heads, underdone duck, gigante beans and kale: oh yes, a bad time was had by one and all.

In short, it was the perfect counterpoint to an entirely perfect weekend. Funny how that works out.

Feb 21 2008

Motivation

Motivation is when you get up into plank pose and your 10 month old crawls over underneath you and decides to have a little sit there.

"Come on Red, move for Mommy. Please? Please, buddy?"

Feb 18 2008

Mondays, Who Needs 'Em?

I know most people are enjoying a long weekend today. We are not entertaining the presidents.

You know it's Monday when you get all the way to Trade Joe's to find out they don't carry Tzatziki Sauce or Crumpets in Minnesota.

Even Annabella said it was a bad day, because the purple helium balloon she got is now living on the ceiling in the garage.

Tuesday is when we really get back into the swing of the week.

Feb 15 2008

Note To Self

If you go to change the filter on your heating system and it looks like the lint filter from the dryer, you waited too long.

If you have a puddle in front of your front door on a melty day, chances are good you'll have a glacier on a frozen day.

If you leave your sunglasses in your car and it is -5 outside, chances are they will actually hurt your face when you put them on. Then they will fog up. Excellent.

The baby window shades will not stick to the window if it is below freezing outside. You can lick the suction cups all you want (gross), it will not help.

If it is February in Minnesota and the sun has been shining all the live-long day? Yeah, chances are you can get frostbite on the way to your mailbox.

Yes, this pretty much sums up my attitude this afternoon:

Raspberries

Feb 14 2008

Happy Valentine's Day

Fifteen years and two weeks ago, I met Andrew. Fifteen years ago tonight, we went on our first date.

So Young, So Surly

As you can see, both our relationship and this photo frame have taken a beating. But here we are, better and stronger than ever.

Happy Valentine's Day. Happy Favorite Anniversary. I love you.

Feb 12 2008

No Cheese With Our Wine, Saturday Part I

While Friday had been filled with intermittent sun and showers, Saturday was decidedly grey and rainy. A great day to drink grapey sunshine.

I woke again at 8 a.m. and by way of apology to Tammie, I ordered room service breakfast while she showered. Deb and Jackie hit the restaurant and we made some hasty plans with Ramon, the concierge of our dreams.

By a little after 10 we had plans and full tummies and we were off to Matanzas Creek. We had a private tour scheduled for 10:30 a.m. thanks to Deb. It was a real treat. We got to pick up facts about the various micro-climates in the wine valleys, get a little history, a little dirt on what's going on in those parts, and the like all wrapped up in a charming gentleman who actually teaches hospitality at a local college. What a guy.

Matanzas Creek

As it turns out, several acres directly in front of the main building were unsuitable to growing grapes. What were they suited to grow? Lavender, some of the finest lavender I've ever smelled. And their tasting room is full of products for your kitchen, bath, and life that all smell divine.

View of 220 Acres

Above you will see the view from the executive offices, because it was Saturday we were able to start our tour there. Looking out on the Bennett Valley, while talking about it. Gazing at the 220 acres of grapes that will be Matanzas Creek wine, was a very grounding experience. A solid way to begin a wine tour.

The scoop is that Jess Jackson, founder of Kendall Jackson, was at a dinner with the woman behind Matanzas Creek. She is apparently the grandchild of Mr. Sears or Mr. Roebuck. Anyhow, he admired Matanzas Creek and wondered what would it take for her to part with it. She replied, telling him some lofty number like $45 million. At which point he announced, "Drinks for everyone, I've bought myself a winery."

MC Group Shot w/ Guide

Crazy stuff. A wonderful tour. Good wine. Amazing lavender. Go already.

Next, we sped back to the hotel to meet the driver Ramon had arranged for us. We were running late, so Deb called to let Ramon know. He said he had a surprise for us.

Limo Pics

Surprise! We got a limo for the price of a town car. Thanks Ramon!

Now we are off to the wineries that Ramon has hand picked and arranged for us. We begin with Tara Bella. When we pulled up we were quickly ushered out of the rain into a barrel room. The unmistakable mixture of fermentation and oak thick in the air. Before our eyes had even adjusted to the low light, our host was passing out glasses and filling them with samples from an open barrel.

Barrel Tasting

From there we were ushered upstairs for a proper introduction. Our host was Rich, he and his wife Tara, are the people behind Tara Bella Winery. Rich used to be a farmer in Wisconsin. I love that. And now he and his wife hand craft 500 cases of wine, all of it Cabernet, from their own 5 acres (or is it 3?) of grapes. When I say hand craft, I mean it. They call in family and friends at harvest time. They do it all and they do it well. Their tasting room is full of awards. In fact, they are so amazing, they sell only to their wine club. They ship only once a year, in November, with the harvest. Rich told us he has only 2 cases left until November.

He showed us a CNN segment that had been produced about their place. Here's a little movie from You Tube, so you can see how charming and humble Rich is.

If you want to see the CNN segment, it is on the Tara Bella website here.

If you don't have time for a movie, here's a picture of Rich.

Rich of Tara Bella

Again, a great place, great people, doing it the old fashioned way. Proud to make a living doing what they love.

Next we were off to Harvest Moon. Harvest Moon specializes in Zinfandel, and Zinfandel is my new favorite. Anthony was our pourer at Harvest Moon, and he was very informative and entertaining.

Harvest Moon

There were several Zinfandels to be tasted and they were all fantastic. There was even a late harvest Zin that was right up there with Noah's Zinfandel, first tasted at Retzlaff Winery. Retzlaff Winery is a small, family owned operation in the Livermore wine valley. It is well worth the trip to the valley to visit Retzlaff. Noah's zin was probably the first I ever enjoyed. It was a 1997 vintage, I believe, and the whole batch had somehow turned out slightly effervescent. Not a tribute normally enjoyed by Zinfandel. It was so superb, we used to call it Roofies.

So there we were at Harvest Moon, and I'd been thinking how Mindi and Debby would have so enjoyed this trip and how well everyone would get along, when we next tasted their RandyZin.

Harvest Moon RandyZin Label

This image reminds me of a certain someone and her Randy. Pretty cute, huh? I've got a copy of the label (Thanks Joe!) that I'll be dropping in the mail to you. Maybe I'll mount it to a magnet first.

With that, I'll close Part I. Saturday was epic. There we were on our third winery and not a possibility of lunch in sight. We would have no cheese with our wine.

Feb 08 2008

To Santa Rosa, Sonoma County, California

Friday morning I was up at 8 a.m. California time. That's 10 a.m. Minnesota time, so it makes sense, right? Not if you consider that I went to sleep at 2 a.m. California time. I was a wee bit excited to get the show on the road, as it were.

After I made a bunch of noise making tea and sitting in front of the heat dish (it is cold in California this time of year, not Minnesota cold, but a damp cold which doesn't always respond to additional layers) reading "Beach Houses", Tammie woke up! Yeah!!!

We were running just a tiny bit late, but Jackie was on our schedule. She's a trouper.
Jackie Car shot

Then we drove quickly to the San Jose airport to get Deb. Who was likewise unfazed by our lackadaisical schedule. Deb Car Shot

We had a superb lunch at The Sonoma Chicken Coop. How appropriate is that? Now, I always want to write Chicken Coup, but so far the chickens have proven to be not only delicious, but peace loving.

Deb and Jackie both ordered a glass of wine. When they arrived at the table, wine in hand, Tam and I both went "Doh!" But that's OK, there would be plenty of opportunity for good wine later. With that, we were back on the road.
Tam and I Car Shot

Between Tammie's Garmin (a.k.a. Fido) and Jackie's truck-driving-friend Jim, we managed to sort out the 80's vs. 101 possible routes. Me? I figured if we drove North, we'd get there. I'm like that, though. If you're in the market for a route from the Bay Area to Napa or Sonoma, I highly recommend 680 to the Benicia bridge. Much more enjoyable than taking 101 through San Francisco (fyi - where it is most definitely NOT a highway) and crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Yes, it is rather more scenic a bridge than the Benicia, but the only time we had to stop on our journey was to pay a toll. That is priceless.

We were almost destroyed by a real JACKER from NYC. And we chased a dude in a hot little Jaguar, checking out the car until his wife must have thought we were stalking him. Yes I took both pictures and a movie of the Jaguar chase. Unfortunately, I got the movie filming after my comment, "Oh, no, I'm not taking more pictures, I'm taking a movie. I figure we'll need it for the accident report."

(By the way, Tammie's most excellent evasive driving saved our lives on several occasions during this weekend. Any flack I give her for her driving is purely personal and not a reflection of her actual abilities.)

We checked into the Hyatt Vineyard Creek, which is a nice hotel. It is not the Ritz, but it is clean and accommodating, decently appointed and all that jazz. Friday night they had representatives from Blackstone in the lobby doing a tasting and staff from the onsite spa doing hand massages and wax dips. It was a superbly relaxing way to begin our trip, right after settling in.

Then we met Ramon. Ramon is the concierge of our dreams. He set us up with dinner reservations at a superb Swiss Italian (yes, there is such a thing) restaurant which is within walking distance of the hotel.

Ramon

More about Ramon when I tell you about Saturday.

Dinner at Josef's was superb. We were seated at the best table in the house, in front of a roaring fire. The wine list and Deb's utilization of it (she was the decider) were superb. I had a beet salad to start and mussels for dinner. Although I pointed out the earthiness ("Don't you just love how beets taste a little like dirt?") of the beets, the salad was really good. The mussels were perfectly cooked and the broth they came in was so superb, I threw etiquette to the wind and spooned it up like soup. I highly recommend making a trip to Santa Rosa to eat here.

Josef's Rules

We went to a bar around the block from Josef's because they were there, they had room, and they had a sign saying that there would be 2 DJ's spinning house and 80's dance music. There was much house, strange patrons, disgruntled but talented bar tenders, and lots of liquor, but no 80's anything.

After a couple rounds of appletini's, cosmos, gimlets, a pear cider, and one 'trough water', we headed out for more adventures. Once outside we found ourselves surrounded by Peanuts characters. We window shopped and wandered without much success, so we settled ourselves into our hotel bar for a few more rounds and cheese plates.

Tam in the Night with Diamonds

All-in-all, a very fun filled day and night. Lots of girl talk, lots of laughter. No embarrassing drunken mishaps.

Feb 07 2008

Sunday Sparklers

Bubbly

Sunday morning, Deb woke Tammie and I up at 8:30 a.m. Oy! We were not quite ready to rock and roll, but we pulled ourselves together quickly to get packed up and off to breakfast.

On a recent episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, which Andrew and I are now hooked on thanks to Tivo, we saw Hank's Creekside. If you follow the link to Hank's, you'll see the corner window table that we enjoyed on our visit. It was a great place for real food served by nice people, in a small but quaint spot. Besides it was less than 2 miles from our hotel, so it was not to be missed.

After a hearty breakfast of whole-wheat pancakes (they mill their own flour for freshness) with walnuts (my favorite) and a side of house-made corned beef hash (OH MY, so good) we headed south down the valley to find some sparkling wine.

In Glen Ellen, I had an epiphany. We were about to drive by Valley of the Moon Winery which happens to produce one sparkling wine. I highly recommend their sparkling wine, it was a lovely refresher on a Sunday noon. I also highly recommend stopping in for their broad array of wine tchotchkes at very reasonable prices. Their other wines are also nice, as I recall, and they have a good (very spendy) brandy, but I did not taste them on this visit. Worth a stop, trust me, their website does not do them justice, this place is like sunshine even on a cloudy day.

The next stop was Carneros . This is a much less earthy establishment. More of the lords manor, where my Sunday afternoon sweats felt a tad out of place. Regardless, we were treated very well. We had the opportunity to sample three sparkling wines here and they were quite good. If you like that sort of thing, and want a moment to be a lord or lady, stop by and see if the fire is burning or enjoy the patio. Skip it if you're terribly hung over, as the stairs up to the tasting room could knock you out.

After that we were quickly on the road back to the Bay Area. The sun started peeking out enough to make even the Benicia Bridge and the Mothball Fleet look kind of pretty.

A great way to slowly end our very girly weekend.

Tomorrow: Friday and Saturday. Can you stand the wait?

Feb 06 2008

Food for the Soul

Cloud Painting

These amazing landscape shots were all taken the last evening of my trip to California. I couldn't resist sharing them with you.

Open Beach

It was an amazing trip which will no doubt take many posts to retell.

Sun Over Lighthouse

I love living in a nice house, and I love being able to buy a home for our family. Don't get me wrong. These are good things. I even like little things like not having homeless people in our neighborhood.

It's hard to believe I used to enjoy these sights almost every day. Andrew used to give me a hard time for taking the scenic route, but seriously how could I not?

The Mississippi is mighty, and Lake Superior is amazing, but the Pacific feeds my soul.

Feb 05 2008

I'm Ba-aaaaack!

I'm back and I have loads to photos and stories to post. I'd like to thank the following people for making this weekend not only possible but extremely enjoyable:
Dave and Deb, Andrew, Redding, Annabella, Tammie, Jackie, and Deb.

I love you guys! And no, I haven't been drinking.

Jan 31 2008

Chicks Dig Mohawks

Chicks Dig Mohawks

Well, this chick does. I got Andrew this sticker when I flew to Minnesota for Mindi's baby shower. Yes, once upon a time Andrew rocked the mohawk, just for me, before he shaved his head. He held onto the sticker for a while. Then one day, we needed something new to distract Annabella while we changed her diaper. Viola! A shiny red sticker.

Perhaps it was this early introduction that makes the song "Tattooed Love Boy" so appealing to Annabella. Perhaps it is exposure to some of her uncles and cousins. At any rate, Annabella recently found the sticker while cleaning her room and decided that it deserved a special spot on her sticker wall.

Her sticker wall is a special place to put stickers she has on her clothes before nap or bed time. It's like the sticker hall of fame. I see some time in her future when she'll be tasked with scrubbing the remains of Thomas and Belle from her bathroom wall, but for now it is fine and it saves a lot of tears.

So there I was giving Red a bath and that sticker over his shoulder made me wonder if his hair grew in a natural faux-hawk, like Annabella's did back then. Sure enough! And he likes it, he really likes it!

I personally can't think of anything better than a happy baby in a bath, with a mohawk.

Oh, except running away from my beautiful family for a weekend of girly good times in the Napa Wine Valley. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go kiss the subzero wind chill goodbye. Maybe there will be pictures on Monday. That depends on what the girls say and what kind of trouble we get into.

Jan 30 2008

Things I Learned at Parenting Class

If you live here, in the frozen north, and you are my age, you must have at least 5 children. The oldest are in high school.

(If you have 5 children, why do you need a parenting class? If you haven't learned how to parent yet, you are unlikely to pick it up now. Or what makes THIS child worth learning something for?)

There are some really strange parents and children here. Overheard on the way out of the child care room, a mom bending over her 4 year old son leafing through a pocket bible, "Maybe one of these students will read to you from your God and Jesus book."

(He's 4. Isn't Bible a lot easier to day? Why do you say God and Jesus book with such disdain, if you're willing to let your child foist his religion on unsuspecting high school students? Did you see the looks they shot you, by the way?)

Some people come to parenting classes not to learn something, but to tell other parents how to do their job.

(It's totally awesome. I didn't stick around to see if any actual fist fights broke out. Hopefully the really bossy lady wouldn't be involved so she could tell them to 'use their words'.)

These people will leave their children with anyone.

(Not just the high school students shoved into a room the size of a broom closet, which was hastily prepared for the event. But one mom actually asked if I would watch her two kids while she went and got her car and brought it around to the front of the school. I did, because I was afraid of who she'd ask if I said no. Needless to say, I was pleased when she returned, as I think Andrew would be mad if I brought home two more children than I left with.)

If the air outside is -14 degrees and the wind is blowing hard, it's probably a -35 degree windchill. If you have to walk more than a dozen yards from your car to any heated building, both of your children will be crying by the time you get there.

(And while I'm aware that bare skin will begin to freeze in under 5 minutes in a -35 degree windchill, I'm not sure how tears affect that process. Will the moisture speed it up or will the salt content of the tears lower the freezing point of the skin?)

And the most important thing I learned at parenting class this morning: I have the most awesome kids in a 50 mile radius, at least. They are happy, easy-going, and eventually have conformed to a schedule making them even easier to get along with.

Jan 30 2008

Nostalgia & Body Origami

I've been taking yoga classes for around 10 years, off and on. One of the consistent messages in yoga, whether you take it in a private studio or a rec. center, is that you need to be present in the moment.

Your body, all twisted up and shaking because you're losing your balance, there on the floor? Yeah, it needs your brain to come back. Before something bad happens, m'kay? Yes, it is important in yoga and in life to be present in the moment.

For me it is tough, because when I am there, in the moment, my brain goes, "OK? Everyone all right? OK. I'll be right back." And it jogs off to some past moment, when I was there in the moment. They are the strangest moments. One winter day when I walked out of the student center at college. A sunny day when I just finished a favorite book as a kid. Not necessarily significant moments, but moments when I wasn't planning or pining.

Now, I've noticed lately that the location of the classes means a great deal. I've taken some fantastic classes in an elementary school auditorium and commercial gyms, even a private yoga studio or two. It's not the status of the place, or even the facilities it contains. When I slow down and actually notice things around me, it's hard to keep my mind in that moment.

My most focused yogi time was spent in an elementary school auditorium in Fremont, California. Although it wasn't the school I had attended, it was in the same town. And twice a week for nearly two years, when I walked into that space, I walked in and felt like a child. New to the world, ready to try something different. The familiar, cool and lonely smell of old linoleum. The somehow energy-filled emptiness, of a now darkened space normally inhabited by children. All of their brightness and keen interest abounding in that room, contagious.

It certainly didn't hurt that the instructor might as well have been Maude from Harold and Maude. Definitely the most agile 80 year old I've ever met. Here I was, not yet 30 and after 2 years, I still couldn't do a lot of the things she could. But that movie-strange-familiarity also supported the quality of timelessness the class inspired in me.

Now I am taking a yoga class that is held in a middle school in Minnesota. Not at the middle school (Junior High for you Californians) I attended in Minnesota, but certainly evocative of it. As if there is a certain cleaning product line, or carpet quality that has been standardized across the region, across decades of time. I find myself back at the beginner stage again (and again, and again). As always, an eager student. Somehow though, I am not the child-like enthusiast I once was.

Memories from this time are more complicated. Tween angst, first kisses. One day walking into the school for class I momentarily felt the giddy excitement I used to feel walking into some far away school in the darkness of an early Saturday morning, to compete in Speech. Another day the looming cinderblock walls, smell of a far off swimming pool or perhaps just the seeping damp of perpetually leaking locker room showers were rather oppressive.

I'm not sure why the past pulls at me so strongly when I'm actually working at focusing in the here and now. Maybe I'm not the only one. You tell me.

Jan 12 2008

Day Dreaming

Once in a while, I like to look at the job market.

While checking out a site listing marketing jobs in Minnesota, I found this.

Swine Marketing Nutritionist.
Department Name - Commercial & Lifestyle Business - Swine

Business Unit - Feed

Wow. Must have a Ph.D. in Swine Nutrition, which is funny, because I think pigs will eat anything. Slop. I mean, I used to work in catering and we used to scrape all the dishes into these big red barrels, that the pig farmers would come pick up a couple times a week. Yes, we threw pork in there. There's something wrong with that. That and the fact that the barrels weren't refrigerated. Iew.

Now, the real kicker is the top requirement: Must be creative and futuristic in thinking

Um... futuristic. Like, what we'll feed pigs in space? (Muppet reference intentional.)

Crazy.

Jan 12 2008

Paging Dr. Ferber!

There are some subtle differences between parenting a preemie and parenting a full-term baby. I'm not telling you one approach is better than the other. I'm just telling you that each situation calls for a different approach.

We knew next to nothing about parenting when we had Annabella and her situation called for a steep preemie parenting learning curve. We mustered our resources and did the best we could.

Then, along comes this guy.

Squishing Lucy

Oh, he seemed to be a preemie, in the beginning. The 3 week hospital stay would to tend really sell it. So our parenting approach would come in handy, right?

Sometimes yes, sometimes no. We know preemies, so when he has a fit, we look for medical problems. Seriously. Do we think our child is manipulating us? Uh, no. Do we fell like suckers? Not so much. We think he's ill in some way.

Now Annabella was about as stoic about things as an infant can be. By the time she got home to us, she had been through a great deal of daily, uh, inconvenience, all bent of keeping her alive and healthy. So she was pretty tough. Though we really had no idea at the time. It became more evident as she got bigger and she'd fall down and just look stunned for a second and move on. I actually asked the pediatrician if this was normal, she said it was for preemies who have been through a lot. If this kid cried or complained, generally speaking she was sick.

Redding? He is about as soft as they come. For crying out loud, the kid screamed every time he passed gas for his firs several months. It still makes him howl sometimes. If his head falls 2 inches to the carpeted floor, he cries. If he puts his teether in his mouth too fast, he cries. All this is relatively easy to see.

But when the kid wakes up night after night, howling like he is in agony, that is hard to see. Maybe it is hard to make rational parenting decisions when you're sleep deprived. Maybe because he is so sweet, we got sucked in. Maybe because he will certainly be our last baby, we took extra pains to baby him.

Now, we've been fussing over every thing going into this kid for many of his months. Once we switched to formula, finding the right one, getting medicine for his reflux, giving him mylicon to help with gas, using bottled water for his bottles, food and medicine. We've consulted doctors. We've gotten up with him, fed him, changed him, held him.

Guess what? He likes it. He likes that personal one-on-one attention he gets in the middle of the night. He's even figured what he has to do, how he has to scream and cry and moan to get us to hold him the rest of the night.

With Redding quickly approaching 9 months of age, I could hear the echo of Annabella's first pediatrician, Dr. Scobel. She actually laughed at us when we said we still got up and gave Annabella a bottle in the middle of the night, at her 9 month check-up.

So yesterday at nap time and all last night I ran a test. A test to see if my son is a tool. Tool, tool, tool. Yes, I said it.

When I deposited him in his crib yesterday for nap (he's been sleeping, such as it was, in his swing for months) he fussed. He fussed for almost 10 minutes. Then he took a great 1 hour nap. When I deposited him in his crib for his afternoon nap, he fussed not a peep, and took a great 2 hour nap. Unheard of. A 2 hour nap in the afternoon? Ridiculous. Andrew came home from work to experience a different baby than he'd seen in a long time. Happy, energetic, a big eater.

That added fuel to the fire. This kid can sleep! So, when he went down without a peep at bedtime, I wondered if maybe we weren't home free. Not exactly. He fussed for almost 15 minutes at midnight, and again at 4. He fussed for almost 10 minutes at 4 and then again for about 7 minutes at 4:20.

He didn't make another peep until 7:00 a.m.

No bottles, no changes, no rocking, no nothing. In fact, when I went to pat him and tell him he was OK every 5 minutes during his fussing, it only made him more angry.

This morning he is full of energy, roaming the whole room. So happy to be awake and unfettered, he hasn't even wanted his bottle. I made him an 8 oz. bottle, thinking he'd be starving, having no eaten since 8:30 p.m. last night and he's only managed to drink 2 oz. of it in the last hour.

In conclusion, we made it through the night. Thank goodness for Dr. Ferber and his brand of tough love. And yes, my son is a tool. Tool, tool, tool. My son is a tool.

Jan 10 2008

Vote for Me

I'm sure most, if not all, of you remember this photo:

Fairy Princess

Well, it was submitted to a photo contest. More than 2 years later, I am still getting spam from that contest. So much spam, you'd think I'd gone and moved to Hawaii.

Anyway, I can win a prize if you go vote for me. You do not need to register, give any personal information, or anything like that.

Just click here. While you are there, you can enter a photo of your own, so you can have your own never ending supply of spam, and junk mail, I can't believe I almost forgot to mention the junk mail!

If you ever purchased a "Who's Who" book, to see your name published and "someone", this is the contest for you! Once you've entered, much of the spam you receive will be geared toward getting you to purchase a book containing your photo, IN PRINT! Wow. Then, you'd really be SOMEONE.

Sold yet? Seriously, click on the link and go vote for my picture, because it is pretty freaking awesome. And gosh darn it, I am somebody!

Jan 10 2008

Technical Difficulties

I've been out of commission for a couple days. It seems that my computer is having some trouble. I find this most perplexing.

First, doing anything without having a computer with DSL is like having a missing limb. A missing security blanket. A missing connection to the world.

Oddly, the little white iBook that I beat the hell out of, dropped, broke part of the power cord off inside, dropped again making the hinge bend and the computer hard to close and open, wore the letters off the keyboard, filled with crumbs, all that. That computer? Still fully functional, if hard to open and close.

The beautiful shiny silver PowerBook G4 that Andrew gave me when he got a new one? It still opens, hasn't been dropped, has all its letters... And the touchpad has given out. Kaput. Ironic, no?

Anyway, I'm just catching up. Be patient with me. We'll be blazing ahead in no time at all.

Meanwhile, I owe an apology to Annie - I got your message about updating the header on the site and you're so right! We need to catch up, I'll write you a real, actual, personal message soon.

Happy New Year!

Jan 04 2008

Observations - Not Resolutions, Really, I Swear.

Why is it they only show the Polar Bear club members jumping into the hole cut in the ice of Lake Minnetonka on New Years Day, not getting out? Take risks, but not ones that cause hypothermia.

Bad posture: Your body's way of apologizing for the space it takes up in the world. Yoga, here I come!

It's not enough to obsess about cleaning your produce, to buy many different fruits and vegetables, to be pro organic, local, sane agriculture. You have to actually eat it, not order take-out.

My kitchen sink? Yeah, it's not self-cleaning.

I'm not 100% convinced the grass is greener, but the ants I keep finding in my basement? Oddly similar to the ones that invaded my beach house this time every year. How the bloody hell do ants live in Minnesota in December and January in sub-zero temperatures? Oh, right, they hang out in my basement!

Is it wrong to take my husband to task over being a grouch in the morning? It may be if he's a grouch because his back hurts from not sleeping all night in the rocker with our sick son? Yes, it probably is. I am sometimes very short sighted. I definitely like those pleasant mornings, though. Why can't I just be right?

I personally think it is OK for your children to see that adults experience different feelings and moods. Why is it then, that I feel like such a jerk when I realize I've been a grump at my daughter? Everything just can't be all nicey, nicey all the time if: She's not listening, she's flailing and about to fall on her brother, she's trying to pick up her brother after being told repeatedly (and nicely) not to, she is in chronic follow-mom-and-whine-mode, or she's decided late in life to decorate her bathroom with... Well, really, need I say more? Sure, you guide them, you help them figure out what they are supposed to do, help them stay on task, let them know when they make a mistake, help them identify better choices. Then you just lose it and say nothing to them for a full 30 minutes but "Go play with your toys. Now. Or they're going in the garbage."

Nice.

Maybe I should just resolve to focus on the fact that 4 weeks from today? I'll be in California, on a trip with sisters and friends to Napa. Drinking wine and not being "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, look-at-me, mommy, mommy, mommy..." Or answering to Screamy McGee, a.k.a. Redding.

Man alive am I glad Andrew took up golf.

Dec 28 2007

Just a Virus

What a wreck we are. It is shocking.

I was feeling pretty sorry for us all. Annabella, Redding and I have been fighting off a cold since about a week before Christmas. Then I took Annabella in to see the doctor today and the waiting room was cram packed with people. It seemed almost every one of them had the same runny nose, tired disposition, and occasional cough we've been having.

My cough is finally getting better. I'm sure Andrew will be pleased to have less (mind you I didn't say no) snoring in the near future. But Annabella seems to be getting worse. She was up a couple times the last two nights coughing and coughing. So much so that I broke out her inhaler. When I do that, I know I need to get her looked at. The good news is no ear infections and no wheezing. I never imagined I'd be a tad disappointed to have a doctor tell me she just has the virus that's going around. Why on earth would I be disappointed? Because for her whole life, 98% of the time it is something more and she's put on antibiotics and maybe an inhaler regimen and maybe even some steroids, and she's feeling better in 24 hours.

Now? Now we've entered the realm where we just need to be patient. Push liquids and rest, and let her body fight off the virus. It is simultaneously gratifying to have her be just like everyone else, and frustrating that we can't just fix her up real quick like.

Redding, tough guy that he is, has stuck with just the runny nose. I'm hoping he'll continue that way. I'm not feeling real super, but as I said my cough seems better, so I'm happy.

Andrew is home from work with a bad headache. He's upstairs sleeping right now. Hopefully in his weakened state he won't succumb to the prevailing virus.

Dec 03 2007

I Forgot

How amazingly bright the world can look at night, covered in a blanket of white.

Dec 01 2007

I Have a Problem

Again, all about me. Sorry.

This morning, I started baking for Christmas. It's what I do. While Andrew took Bella out shopping, I whipped up a single batch of a new cookie and a double batch of an old standard. It seems Andrew is finally ready to commit to the fact that, yes, we live in Minnesota. Yes, there will be snow to shovel. These things will be easier to handle if you have, say, a warm coat, a hat, some gloves, oh and a shovel.

I can't talk, because I just got a winter coat on Thursday. Yes, it was a mere 10 degrees out the day I bought my coat. Oh, and I didn't buy a shovel any of the times I've been to Target since moving here. Because, well, I won't be shoveling. Let's be honest.

Now, today, it is snowing like mad and Andrew and Bella managed to get Andrew completely outfitted. But did he put any of it on for the drive home? Uh, no. Nope. That would have been, well, warm. Instead he chose to go with denial of winter and Minnesota itself for one last trek. He may live to regret it. Apparently he's been so cold, coming and going from work, that he's chafed his nipples. [yes, that sound is me giggling]

Poor Andrew. I wondered aloud if my LilyPadz would fit him, knowing they wouldn't. I'm such a bad wife. Bad, bad wife. Bad sense of humor.

He laughed, so I guess it's OK.

Anyway, back to me. OK?

I started a list of grocery items I needed in order to complete the cookie baking. It is quite short. Which is nice. Then I realized I needed to make a list of the cookies I wanted to make. There's the chocolate chip oatmeal, regular chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, oatmeal scotchie, jam thumbprint, welsh, ginger snap, sugar, sandies, and the new almond kiss and mint dark chocolate... Oh good grief.

That's eleven kinds of cookies. And actually, to be completely honest, I had 13 kinds on my list and I can't think of them all right now. Maybe peanut butter and macaroons? And that doesn't even use up the mini chips, peanut and chocolate chips, and white chips I picked up this year... Oh and the toffee cookies, which were such a big hit last year. Oh, and fudge. And I wanted to try my hand at making some candy, too. A brittle or something like that.

I have a problem.

The funny thing is, this doesn't stress me out in the least. Baking almost every day, makes this season special to me. It's good. It's really quite delicious.

Nov 28 2007

Dear Baggers of All Stripes

Please try not to look so completely ticked off when I hand you my reusable bags to put my purchases in.

I am, in point of fact, saving your company money, conserving energy, avoiding filling landfills, and generally doing good for everyone on our little planet. In addition to teaching my children a vital lesson, over and over, without them even knowing.

When you start your fake cough, wrinkle up your nose and ask me what the bags are made out of, as if they are hurting you in some way, it gives me great delight to tell you, "unbleached cotton."

But what my eyes are saying is, "POISON you evil bitch, now put my stuff down and go wash your hands that you just coughed all over. Stupid, ignorant, nasty hag!"

Nov 28 2007

Jakey? Have you stopped loving me?

I've been writing a lot about myself, I feel. Maybe not, but it seems so.

My hair needs attention. The color, the cut. I've needed a cut for quite a while, and I got desperate. I decided to try a cheap and convenient hair fix.

I

went

to

one of those places. Great! Fantastic! Whatever you want to call them.

Yeah. It's hair, right? And why on earth should it cost so much? Or be a long drive? Or take hours?

So. Yes. I went in and the gal who cut my hair had the cut I wanted. Shorter in the back, longer in the front. How could she not get what I wanted?

Yeah. Because. She. Doesn't. Cut. Her. Own. Hair. DUH!

It is longer in the front. It is shorter in the back. There is no real good transition, though. And the shorter in the back, looks like maybe she used a machette?

I look like the girl on Sixteen Candles. After her friend cuts a big hunk out of her hair to free her from the door. That's about how good it looks. Like an accident. Like an emergency happened.

I guess I've learned my lesson. You get what you pay for. And I'm not about to pay $15 to have someone spritz my hair with water, lay a dirty hairy cloth over me, then free me from a door.

Hopefully I can get it fixed before Christmas. Everyone was too nice to say anything about it at Thanksgiving.

CHEESE!!! Now we're both on the pill!

Nov 27 2007

It has begun...

Oh the weather outside is frightful. And bundling up a fussy infant is not delightful.

Poor Red. I put off grocery shopping yesterday, so I could do it today with just him. I finally broke down and put him in his little baby marshmallow sack to stay warm on the trip. Buckling it into his car seat is a giant pain. He fights so hard, that he's overheated by the time he's in there, and boy is he mad.

Got him out and carried him in my arms, in to take Bella to her class. Pulled the hat and mitten parts off, but he was still too warm. And boy was he mad.

Somehow managed to get him, my cloth grocery bags, the baby seat cover / entertainer, and diaper bag / purse into the grocery store. Only to find I had to take him out of his marshmallow suit to get him into the seat cover and/or cart seat. UGH!

Got everything, well maybe, I get a little scattered when the kid is squawking every 10 minutes. Get the groceries bagged (missing Bella, who usually does this for me, for real, I'm not kidding, she rules) and then I'm standing there trying to figure out how to wrestle him into the suit and carry him while pushing the cart out to the car...

Yes, I desperately miss Safeway, where not only do they bag your groceries for you, with whatever bag you like even your own, and then they will push the cart out to the car for you.

Got him into his suit, almost took out two people steering the cart poorly out to the car. Put screaming mad child into car seat and then put groceries in the trunk. Fortunately for me, I always park next to a cart corral.

All this, and I was not wearing a winter coat. Don't have one I like, may have to break down and wear the one I don't like. Trial and tribulation, and there isn't even snow yet. Just cold.

It's always nice to know that I have the option of doing my shopping online, and them taking Red and driving over to Byerly's while Bella is in school. Drive up to the covered pick-up area, they load the groceries into your car, you drive away.

We may have to eat only dried beans and only the fruits and vegetables that are on sale, but it will be well worth it come Winter.

A mom of another child in Bella's class was giggling at Red's suit. I said, hoping for a little insider info, "I keep thinking there's got to be some secret to keeping these little guys warm and still comfortable." She said, "Nope, there's not, and it only gets harder."

Yeah, sure, you betcha.

Nov 26 2007

PPSD

Still basking in the sunny glow of the new pediatrician.

However, in the light of recent fussy days with Red, I've remembered it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. I call it Post Pediatrician Stress Disorder.

I'll be just calmly going through my day and suddenly recall something I should have mentioned or a question I should have asked. Like, uh, how long will it take for the Prevacid to have a noticeable effect on Red's reflux? Duh.

And I try to put myself back in the exam room to see if maybe I was smart enough to ask this intelligent question. When it hits me, trying to have a doctor's appointment for two children at once, when one of them is having digestive issues and the other is 4 years old, vying desperately for the new pediatricians attention...

It's like two people trying to share valuable information while both are being banged on the head repeatedly by a hammer wielding 4 year old.

In other words, it's totally awesome.

Which is why I was completely exhausted when we left the doctors office. Thank goodness the pediatricians and pharmacists take phone calls.

Nov 21 2007

Insurance

As if I need to state again that I hate insurance. Again.

First, we're all on temporary insurance, because we all had to wait for the new company to get medical records for Annabella and I, so they could assess their risk. Or should I say, assure themselves that they will always profit above and beyond our medical needs.

That's their business. They are in business to make money.

After having a delightfully easy time getting Annabella's records, I finally managed to cajole my records out of the basement of bad manners in Santa Cruz.

And we waited some more. Then some more.

I finally decided I couldn't wait on getting the kids check-ups done any longer, and we signed up for said temporary insurance.

After more than a month of waiting, I harassed my insurance agent into an answer. An amended policy was on its way to me. Excellent.

It arrived on a Saturday, 2 days after the above conversation. Convenient, because the insurance company was not available to answer my questions.

The amendment? It's so simple. The amendment is... To not cover ME! AWESOME! Why? High cholesterol. Shocking? Not so much.

So, other matters must be attended to. And in the meantime I need to harass the insurance company into reconsidering because women planning on becoming pregnant, who are pregnant and who are lactating should absolutely not under any circumstance take drugs to lower their cholesterol. And maybe that will make a difference to them.

While we wait for them to mull that over, I may or may not be able to sign the amendment which will switch Andrew and the kids to a permanent insurance.

Since we had the kids well check on the temporary insurance, I used said insurance when trying to fill the prescription for Red's new reflux medicine. Which is Prevacid. Can't you buy that OTC now?

I went in to pick it up today, after patiently waiting a day, and the guy says, "That will be one eighteen." I say, "That is the strangest co-pay I've had yet." He says, "I don't know about that, it's one hundred and eighteen dollars."

For a drug. To try. To see if maybe. Maybe that's why Red gets fussy when he eats solids. Just to try and see. So very unfortunate that the doctor could not locate the samples.

So, I say, "Stop the presses. Try this insurance." Yep, I still hadn't canceled the kids insurance from CA. Because I am a cautious broad. It may not cover much in MN, but maybe it will cover this.

Nov 16 2007

The Warlord of Punk Rock

Joe Strummer is the Warlord of Punk Rock. Last night we went and saw Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten. It was a fantastic movie.

But don't just take my word for it. I have been able to admit freely for years that The Clash is my favorite band of all time. Andrew, who was not excited about the movie at all, but was humoring me, enjoyed it as well.

A very well done documentary of the man, the band, and a message. Go see it.

Nov 14 2007

Yucky Sick

Poor poor me. Sick as a dog. Wah wah wah wah wah.

Nov 12 2007

Mommy Blogging

Yep. I'm a mommy blogger. And there are a lot of us.

A very nice lady found my blog this weekend and put a link to it on her cool sites. So if you want to find some more cool mommy blogs click here. It is really rather amazing to see my blog on there with Mighty Girl, which I read regularly. Her son is about the cutest thing I've ever seen, and I've seen some cute babies.

The very nice lady's website is about finding names and their meanings. It's nice. We looked at a lot of these before we came up with names for our children.

I think later today I'll write a naming blog, about how we named our children. It's kind of cute. Right now I have to go figure out why Red is howling like a howler monkey. On acid. I think he's trying to kill me.

Nov 05 2007

OMG

IT IS SNOWING!!!

Denial is powerless against the march of time.

Oct 26 2007

Direct Substitute for Human Contact

If you would like any kind of personal interaction from me, you should contact me for it now.

We've just completed a morning of Ren and Stimpy installing DirecTV. You've heard Click and Clack, the car guys on Car Talk , right? Well, we were regaled with no less than 4 hours of witty banter, punctuated with new vocabulary words for Bella, like horse shit. All this, plus insulation form the attic tracked through the house, sharp wire clippings left in the carpet Red just decided he likes to roll on, and the lingering scent of stale cigarette smoke. Mmm mmm. I'll have that!

But, every great odyssey has it's perils and trials that must be overcome.

In the journey from being west coast beach dwellers with no cable, no satellite, and no broadcast TV, to a midwestern family with two full satellite TV setups complete with DVRs, these were but a few of the trials.

I'm not using drugs, abusing prescriptions, boozing it up and sharing with the boy. I'm just about to embark on a very serious relationship with a major appliance.

If you knew me as a child, you'd understand. I recall distinctly riding BART one summer day, when we actually had some kind of outing. I kept asking what time it was, I was obsessed with what programs I was missing. Because, really, how could going to a science museum compare to reruns of "Petticoat Junction"? Really? Honestly.

Later this afternoon, I'll change the voicemail message to, "You've reached Redding, Annabella, Andrew, and the couch potato. Sorry we've missed your call, we're communing with our television. Please leave us a message and we'll call you back, if there's ever nothing on, which is highly unlikely because we have the DVR set to record every occurrence of CSI, ever."

Please do not contact CPS. We're also recording some very educational baby shows on Noggin and Dora, plus Diego. The fact that we'll leave it to the children to fight it out, Lord of the Flies style, while we hide elsewhere in the house watching CSI? Come on, who's not doing stuff like that?

Oct 15 2007

Where the &%*$ are the new pictures, anyway?

Look, the kids are still sick, Andrew is busy with work and house projects (plus other side projects, helping me take care of the whiney two-some, and taking care of me), somehow iPhoto didn't get installed on my new computer, fortunately Andrew was able to salvage my entire old photo library off the old machine, the leaves are falling, the air is cold, the skies are grey, I am homesick, and our digital camera is on the fritz.

Awesome!

Fortunately, things are looking up. Bella's cough is better, we're taking Red back to Urgent Care today for new antibiotics, last night we bought a new digital camera , and this afternoon Andrew will install iPhoto on this machine.

THEN I'll be able to share all the yummy details of my phlegmy children.

Oct 11 2007

Loud Noises!

Most everyone knows how Bella hates loud noises. It started way back in the NICU. She would startle when loud things happened. She would flip out when someone closed a 3-ring binder loudly. Even once home, loud velcro used to make her shake.

Fire engines are cool. Fire engine sirens? Not so cool. Up until I told her that the sound means that someone needs help and the firemen are going to help them. Then they were OK.

Recently, Bella experienced a Fire Drill at school. She was a wreck and spoke of nothing else for days. And days. And days. So much so that her preschool teachers e-mailed me to ask that we talk to her about it at home, to help her feel more comfortable.

Right. As if we'd talked of anything else since.

Yes, my child was the child in preschool in the corner rocking, saying, "Never hurt Charlie Babbitt."

OK, Rainman she's not. Not really. She's more subtle. "I have a question..." "You remember the day the loud buzzer went off?" Every time she had my attention, her dad's attention, or the attention of one of her teachers. Possibly she spoke of it to the other kids, I'm not sure.

Well, we were just beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel on that one. She was beginning to speak of other things, like the seasons, the icky sticky bubble gum song, etc.

Bella has missed both days of school this week, because she has a wicked cough. She's on antibiotics, but she was coughing herself crazy, I she's on her inhalers, too. Poor girl.

She's been on the same inhaler of albuterol for these almost 2 years of occasional use. Last night she had some of that and some flovent right before bed, but by 11 p.m. they were no longer helping and she coughed herself sick. Twice.

I was just about to flee to the emergency room when I decided to try the new albuterol and some steam, to see if that would help.

Within a minute of the new albuterol she wasn't coughing at all, where she had been barely able to get a breath without coughing before. So, we relaxed in the steamy bathroom for a while and enjoyed how warm and nice it was.

After a while, I told Bella to hop in bed and that I'd be right there with the cool mist vaporizer. She did. While I was running around getting the vaporizer set up, and putting Bella’s white blanket in the laundry chute, the smoke detector outside the bathroom went off.

In fact, I was directly under it, less than 3 feet away when it started and I nearly lost it. I was so tired and it was so loud and surreal. There I was in the hall flailing a pukey baby blanket to clear the steam, shutting the bathroom door, cursing myself for my stupidity, when it finally stopped.

I went about getting the water for the vaporizer, unaware that my daughter was cowering under her blankets, shaking like a leaf.

Andrew talked her down. I felt like the worst parent of all time. I know loud noises scare her, I had been scared, but it hadn't occurred to me to go to her once the alarm was done.

I was so shaken; I didn't sleep. I couldn't fall asleep.

Bella and I would have a few more visits last night. More coughing jags, leading to more albuterol. She even asked me to sleep with her for a while, and I did. Well, I didn't sleep, but I did stay with her while she slept. I held her. I held her hand. I held her down when she woke flying off the bed and shaking like a leaf, as if being electrocuted. I told her I was there and everything was OK.

Around 4:30 a.m. she decided she was fine. She wasn't coughing or scared anymore, and I got to return to my bed.

Every parent has been through this kind of thing. Right now I'm thinking of Jodi, when Ethan was having febrile seizures. It is so painful to see your children sick or scared or both. Last night I found myself cursing Bella's prematurity. Cursing myself for my own stupid mistake with the smoke detector.

At 4 years old, 99% of the time I can just think of my girl as a healthy, smart, strong, beautiful girl. Then that sneaky 1% of the time, I am forcefully reminded of the long, hard road she's had to get to 4. Of ventilators, a pulmonary hemorrhage, pulmonary interstitial emphysema, collapsing her lungs on purpose, a drainage tube running from her tiny lungs to the outside of her little body, and the vague and ominous diagnosis of chronic lung disease.

I am reminded what a miracle she truly is and that I need to renew my efforts for the March of Dimes. Being a parent with a sick child is hard enough, without all the extra baggage.

Oct 03 2007

Stunned Silence

My last post, a tirade to be sure, was greeted by stunned silence. This amuses me.

I wonder how long it will take of me living in Minnesota before I stop checking the clock to see if it is 1 p.m. when the tornado sirens are tested the first Wednesday of each month.

Sun shining? Oh look, it's 1 p.m. Is it the first Wednesday already?

Good thing there's not a giant tornado headed straight for my new house.

Oct 01 2007

London Bridge is Falling Down

You would think, having learned this song as children, that we would all just know, deep down, that eventually bridges fail. Or fall, as it were.

I’ve lived almost 20 years in the San Francisco Bay Area, that’s more than half my life. I grew up going over bridges from one end of the bay to the other and riding BART under the bay to get to San Francisco. I also grew up experiencing earthquakes. I was fortunate enough to be living in Minnesota when the Loma Prieta quake hit, but I did experience many smaller earthquakes and they always came to mind when I was on a bridge or in the BART tunnels. Particularly during the times that I was stopped in heavy traffic on a bridge or on a train stopped under the bay.

Knowing there was a shocking amount of water pushing down on that tunnel, knowing that the water of the bay is cold enough to kill anyone who survived a fall… Yep, that could send a cold chill down my spine. Big deal, right? Tens (if not hundreds) of thousands of people use these bridges and that tunnel every day.

When I read this story of a bridge collapsing on August 2, 2007, and watched this video I was dumbfounded. If you had told me that the bridge of my fears, the one that would ultimately collapse, would be the one we drove over when we got lost on the way to junior prom IN MINNESOTA? Well, then you could have knocked me over with a feather. It would not be the lowly, stinking Dumbarton or the droning proletariat Bay Bridge. From the soaring terror of the San Mateo to the glowing majesty of the Golden Gate, I am stunned.

Here in Minnesota we have numerous friends and associates who passed over that bridge on that day. All of them safely. I know that I am shaken by the mere fact that we (all four of us) drove over it two days before, on the way to the airport. I can not even imagine the horror of those who experienced the collapse firsthand. There was an article in the paper here recently about the post traumatic stress people are coping with. Apparently there are support groups where the people who were there go and talk about that day and how their lives have been affected.

The pull-quote in the article is, "Bridges just aren't supposed to fall down." Clearly the person quoted did not accurately learn their rhymes as a child.

Where is the conspiracy theorist to say that we were taught that rhyme, so that years later, when money that should have been used to reinforce the megalithic sagging infrastructure here in the old U.S. of A. could easily be diverted to a pointless war costing trillions of dollars and thousands of lives. Because after all, if London Bridge can fall down, so can all of ours.

[Oh, yeah, and here's a good reason why NO ONE should be surprised by what happened. The God Damn Minnesota Department of Transportation a.k.a. GD-MNDOT, is also falling down. It's really a wonder there's a driveable road in the entire state.]

Sep 29 2007

Catching Up

I feel like I could write 8 different blog entries to catch up with what has been going on here since I lost regular access to a networked computer.

I believe I mentioned that Bella wants to be called Annabella at school. When we were at Borders the other night to find "The Mouse and the Motorcycle" she introduced herself to two little girls as Annabella. I asked her yesterday, "So, do you want Dad and I to call you Annabella?" She said, "Yes." I thought we'd have until she was at least 10 for something like that, but this kid has always known her own mind.

Preschool has been going well. Annabella is showing a lot of interest in painting and mixing colors, and is learning to recognize her long name. It's much harder than Bella, because there are so many letters and there are two other girls in her class with names that start with A. But yesterday she actually spent about 10 minutes working on tracing her name. I think it may get a lot easier for her to recognize her name if she'll do that a couple times a week.

Annabella's preschool class has two teachers and 13 other children. She loves her teachers and loves playing with the other kids, though she hasn't learned most of their names yet. She certainly knows her teachers names and already has a favorite. Mrs. N is the younger of the two and has taken it upon herself to help fix Annabella's ponytails every day. That apparently scores huge points with Annabella or it is just a sign that she is already fond of my girl.

There is a dress up area at school and every day now I hear stories of playing Princess with Cami. Last week they decided to hold a ball at their royal castle. Something tells me Cami is more a classic Disney girl than Annabella, who is mostly a Pixar fanatic. Or maybe its just Andrew who is a Pixar fanatic. I know Disney owns Pixar, but I like to make the distinction. It's not like any of the main characters have a mother in movies from either.

Redding is turning into an interactive little guy. The other day at Target he actually played a full game of peek-a-boo with me. Pulling a burp cloth up over his own face when I'd say "Where's Red?" Then pulling it down and laughing when I'd say, "There he is!" I thought it was sweet, but was surprised to see we had an entourage of fans following us around the store, to watch my cutie play a game.

It's so different having a 5 month old that isn't mostly a 2 month old, if you know what I mean. It's so refreshing to be able to read a book on infant development and see that he's doing great and to look ahead to what is to come in the next few months. With Annabella, sure I could have read the books, but she reached milestones on her own schedule entirely and I needed to not stress out about it. So I didn't even look. I was just always pleasantly surprised when she did something new.

Redding is also a big talker. He was going on and on the other day, without opening his mouth. It was wild. Not a one-time thing, just talking and talking, "mmmba hmmmmbe ommmmmbe". I kept telling him he had to open his mouth to let the words out; I couldn't understand him that way. But he kept on, quite undeterred.

Now his thing is to try pushing both his clasped hands into his mouth as he tries to form different sounds. Not very easy to understand either, but certainly just as entertaining.

He's about outgrown his 3-6 month clothes and I'm scrambling to find what 6 - 9 month stuff we own. I thought I had some, but I could be crazy.

Speaking of thought I had... Could be crazy... It is quite remarkable what I can't seem to find. I've unpacked every box of stuff for the kitchen (with a lot of help from Andrew) and still cannot locate my toaster or my Brita pitcher. I've actually been making toast under the broiler, because I love it so. It's actually quite quick with the stove we have. But I'm thinking if I don't find ours soon, I get a new red one.

I haven't found some of Bella's special blankets yet. I haven't found most of Red's bigger clothes. I can't seem to find the few warmer coats I had. Yes, I have like 8 zip up sweatshirt jackets. But will they suffice when it's 30 degrees outside? Not so much.

On the other hand, I've found a few dozen scarves and tablecloths I didn't know I had. They seem to have multiplied like rabbits. It's crazy.

Things I knew I wouldn't find: our vacuum (a house-warming present from Andrew's parents when we moved in together back in July 1997) and our lawn mower. We ran out of room. Ask Andrew. Since it means that I have a new Dyson Slim , I say, "whatever." The Dyson is fantastic and super easy to use, which makes having more than 3x the square footage to keep vacuumed a lot easier to take.

Since we've been back we've had pizza from GreenMill and Davanni's. Oh how I missed them. Most excellent pizza. Not quite the California Cuisine of Pizza 1's "My Better Half", but really solid tasty pizza. Good crust, great sauce, excellent toppings.

Speaking of Minnesota institutions, I've been grocery shopping at Cub Foods. True it is a warehouse store and I'd rather be shopping at Byerly's, Whole Foods, or even the new Trader Joe's in Maple Grove, but there are 3 Cub Foods within 5 miles of our house. I noticed the other day that although it is annoying that they don't bag your groceries for you, they have a huge advantage over California grocery stores in that they have room to sell almost anything you could want. The ethnic food section has not just ingredients for Mexican and Chinese food. They have a huge selection of kosher, German, Norwegian, Mexican, Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Indian, and African foods. Plus, in the baking section, they have a rack about 6 feet wide and 8 feet tall containing every cookie chip you could ever want. Not just chocolate and butterscotch, they've got cherry and cinnamon flavors, too. So, while I cold spend an hour at Safeway looking at the food, I could spend days at Cub. And I have. While Annabella is at school for 2 hours 2 times a week, Redding and I go and walk around the different Cubs in the area. Yes, there is one that is better than the other two.

I'll post more soon, and photos will be sorted out soon, so I can post more of those.

We're settling in here. I think we all (OK, except maybe Red) miss California a little and the people there a lot.

Aug 20 2007

Updates and Nostalgia

Red had his 4 month appointment at the doctor today. We have good news all around. He is 15.1 lbs. He is 23.5 inches tall. His head is 16.5 inches around. For weight and head circumference he is in the 25 - 50th %ile for uncorrected age. Wahoo! For height, he's just skimming onto the chart at 7th %ile, which isn't super, but since it is the first time he was chartable, we'll take it.

Along with that, he is exhibiting all but one of the developmental skills every 4 month old should have. That is, he isn't rolling. He just doesn't spend a lot of time on his tummy and that is 100% my fault. Guess I need to make him work a bit harder.

Today, Bella helped me run errands. She was a huge help. She is getting to be quite a great helper. In addition to that, she washed her own hair in the tub tonight. Wet it, scrubbed it up and got a little help on the rinse. What a big girl.

Days like today, when everything seems to be going right, I feel so good to be right here where we are. The sun shining, the ocean blue, the kids thriving, the pediatrician who is so superb there aren't even words. Even my teeny tiny little beach cottage seems charming, what with over 1/3 of our belongings in a moving pod outside. A little big of empty space, a little room to breathe.

Our time here at the beach is growing short. I hate long good-bye's.

Before one of my many moves between Minnesota and California, I was completely unhappy and stressed beyond belief. Wracked with doubts about whether or not I was making the right decision. A good friend of mine said, "Well, you can always come back."

True enough.

Aug 12 2007

Secrets

I don't like them and I'm honestly not very good at keeping them.

This link will take you to a place of secrets. A place where quiet desperation meets voyeurism.

I've been visiting the site once a week for over a year. Reading new secrets each week will run me through a gamut of emotions. Shock, anger, sadness, and sometimes even happiness. It's faster than watching Maury and it will give you that same, "thank goodness my life isn't THAT BAD" kind of feeling.

This week they have a new feature, a mini-movie, which plays the heart strings like a fiddle. Enjoy.

Jun 11 2007

colic, concussion, and escape

If you are a regular reader, you are no doubt asking yourself what is going on here in our world. I'd love to fill you in. Before that, however, I must relay a bit of wisdom I heard from several friends with more than one child: The work doesn't double, it grows exponentially. It is so true.

Since the departure of all things grandparent...

We've been delving into the full on parenting experience and indulging in a little escapism.

Redding has been pushing us to our limits with some serious fussing. All mysteriously related to passing gas. I keep telling him that it is not a tragedy. He does not concur. Here's hoping those intestines mature soon. He's a handful, almost all the time.

Bella has been channeling a bit of Chevy Chase and trying her hand at the physical comedy shtick. Throwing herself onto the floor, etc. She was probably doing something like that the other day when she went to run past the glider in the living room, which my mom was sitting in, and hit her head. Or so she said, that she hit her head. Neither my mom or I saw her, but she was inconsolable and needed to be held for more than an hour. That kind of snuggle time has been unheard of for more than a year.

Just when I was beginning to wonder if she was seriously hurt or has a serious flair for the dramatic, she started throwing up. I called the pediatrician; they said to bring her in at 6 (an hour and a half later). Then Bella threw up 4 more times.

The pediatricians were unable to find a bump on her head and Bella's story about where she had hit it changed. The back of her head, the top of her head, her forehead. She's still 3, so I guess that makes sense.

One doctor wanted us to go to the ER for a CAT scan. Now I'm all for doing anything medically necessary to ensure the well being of our children. But I could not stop the thought from running through my head; great, just what we need, more hospital bills.

Bad mom. Bad.

Another, more experienced pediatrician came in to see Bella, because the other was on the fence. Interestingly, he asked if Bella had spit up a lot as a kid or had reflux. I said she had.

Based on that, and the fact that she had not lost consciousness, and the fact that there was no bump on her head, and the fact that she was coherent (if sad, inactive, and very tired) he felt a CAT scan was not needed and I should watch her closely.

PHEW! What a relief. Or the start of a relief. Bella did throw up 2 more times after we got home, but her personality started returning to normal, her energy level came up, it was good.

Now, Andrew was out of town, and it was just the kids and I, and Redding doesn't sleep through the night yet. So I suggested to Bella we all sleep in the living room together, as I was supposed to keep an eye on her. She said OK, but once I got her bed set up on the love seat, she informed me she didn't want to sleep in the living room. So I suggested my bed. She was not happy about it, but said OK.

I'm not one to let the kids sleep in our bed. But the thought of a California king sized bed versus a twin, with the two of us in it, and I went for the king. We slept until Redding needed a feeding; I fed him and came back to bed. She was fine. Redding fussed some time later and I went to get him and fell asleep with him on the couch. At 4 a.m. a very awake and irritated Bella woke me up, standing in front of me with her hands on her hips shouting, "You said you'd be right back!"

Obviously, she was almost as good as new by then.

She was also done sleeping in my bed, so I tucked her into hers, alone, to sleep those last three hours before she got up at her usual 7 a.m.

All this drama calls for some relaxation. So what about that? Andrew went to a golf tournament in Nevada. His foursome took 3rd. Good job guys!

And I went to see a band. A band I have wanted to see play live since I was about 14. That's 20 years. Two decades. They broke up and reformed as different bands. I wanted the original. It seems my waiting paid off.

Yes, The English Beat played a show Saturday night at the Catalyst in Santa Cruz. The show was superb. The lead singer's voice was as amazing as ever. They aren't pushing new material, so they played all their greatest hits, plus some General Public. The saxophone was totally sweet, as always. The show rocked, in such a small intimate setting.

There's the news. That's why I have been MIA. How long can I play the 'newborn' card? I'm thinking June 17, when Redding hits 2 months, my rights will be revoked.

May 25 2007

MIA

Where have I been?

Well, having two children to care for does keep be busy. I'd like to say that I can do it all, but throwing a newborn baby into the mix is a challenge. He behaves like a full-term baby, which throws me for a loop. Not to mention I was only caring for Bella full time after she got out of the hospital for about a month and a half. Then I started a full-time job from home. I did a lot of 'drive-by-parenting' at that time. Thank goodness for Andrew. He was super-dad all day and then did contract work in the evenings and night to make ends meet.

We've also had company. Amazing company that comes into town like a whirlwind to make your life better. They patch walls, plant gardens, pull weeds, rearrange furniture and clean garages. Andrew's parents have always tried to do things for us while they are here. Since they spend their vacation time visiting us, we resist and try instead to show them a good time or at least get them to relax a little. This time, none of that. We worked them like dogs and they loved it, kept coming back for more.

How lucky could we be? Oh yeah, they love the kids, too. Play with them, hold them, feed them. Wahoo!

Groovy Papa

May 03 2007

Things I Love

Driving up Highway 1 on a sunny day with the sunroof open and Green Day blasting on the stereo, going to see my sweet little boy. (I need to find censored versions of their CD's so I can still enjoy them when the kids are around. You never want to hear your 3 year old quote a song that says, "I'm so fucking happy I could die.")

Hearing that he's doing great and we can start having our visits in the Family Room, meaning I can bring Bella.

How tiny the universe is. I haven't talked to the neighbor across the street in ages. She was out the other day and since she had noticed and asked Andrew if I was pregnant, and was now seeing me without a baby and I am obviously not pregnant, she wanted to chat. I took Bella over and she played with the neighbors two kids, while we hashed over life and the Evil B neighbor that moved away. She informed me that the Evil B just had a baby, too.

Well, guess who held open the door to the maternity ward for me this morning? The Evil B and her Beat-Down Husband. Actually he held the door and I must have looked terribly amused, but there was no light of recognition in his eyes. I thanked him and they went off down the hall. Apparently they were still in earshot when I said on the phone, "It's Dawn Jenkins to see Redding Jenkins." Because despite the fact that she was obviously in labor and misserable, the Evil B's head spun around so fast, I thought it would spin right off her shoulders.

I didn't stop to see if they wanted to catch up, seeing my boy is much more important.

Coming attractions: Hopefully this afternoon I'll have the first pictures of Bella with Redding.

May 02 2007

Update on My Health

The doctor says I'm doing great. My incision is healing well. I'm off the narcotics now several days and only take one Aleve two times a day. My blood pressure is quite low on the beta blockers I'm on, so she suggested going down to 1/2 a dose for two weeks. Then I'm done with the drugs. Yeah!

Apr 25 2007

Timing

On Monday, April 16th, we had a little dinner party celebration. We ordered chinese food from our favorite place and headed over to Tammie and Joe's. We celebrated Andrew and Bella coming home, we celebrated me getting out of the hospital the day before.

Andrew and I both shared a thought we'd been having, out loud, for the first time. We were both so very ready to be done with pregnancy. That is an ugly truth. Ugly because we had put so much of ourselves into reaching 33 weeks. We both knew that the longer the little guy was doing OK inside, the better he'd be off when he finally got out. We both knew that, yet undeniably we were done. We wondered aloud together whether we could compel our OB to deliver by request or whether we'd ultimately have to resign ourselves to waiting for some medical disaster to happen.

Later that night, as I lay in bed unable to sleep for the first time in months, my back ached from neck to behind. Then it started. That weird pain, kind of in my chest, not quite my heart, up under my ribs, not heartburn, not muscle strain, not anxiety, not a heart attack.

I told myself it was anxiety. I told myself to go back to sleep. I managed to wait until 6 a.m. to get out of bed. I figured I would have a bite to eat and if I didn't feel better, I'd call the 24-hour on-call number for my OB. I fixed myself an english muffin and some hot chocolate, ate it up, and immediately called the number because I wasn't feeling better. I felt worse.

My OB was the doctor on call that morning. I told her what I was feeling and asked her if I should wait until my appointment with her at 10 a.m. She said, "No, why don't you go into the hospital for monitoring?" I said, "OK, should I wake up my family and go now or can I wait about an hour for them to wake up?" She said it would be OK to wait, but I really couldn't wait much. I went in and woke up Andrew and we got Bella ready to go.

By 7:30 a.m. we were settled into Dominican Hospital. Tests showed I was beginning the downward spiral of HELLP Syndrome. Again. That 19 - 27% chance of having it again? 1 in 4. Somehow is just 100% with me.

I'd almost feel guilty, wishing the pregnancy were over with. But then there's this. blueberry This guy, in the hat, with the eyes, and he seems to be OK with the whole thing.

Apr 15 2007

Wonders Never Cease

Where the heck have I been? Well, that's a funny story.

Friday I had an OB appointment. I was leery about going, because I haven't been feeling myself, and I really wanted to stay out of the hospital, so I could pick up my family from the airport on Saturday.

Well, when I went to leave for the appointment, I got in the car. It started, barely, stalled, started again. I discovered it had no gas, I quickly went to the gas station and filled it up and drove like a nut to my appointment.

These may or may not have affected my blood pressure at the appointment. It started out at 180/100 and only went down marginally from there. So the doctor sent me over to the hospital for monitoring.

My blood pressure stayed high, they started a 24 hour urine collection, started me on the 2x in 24 hour steroid shots to mature the baby's lungs, and drew some blood.

Turns out the only thing they can find wrong with me is my blood pressure is high. There's a bit more protein, but it's not high enough to diagnose preeclampsia. There's a bit more uric acid in my blood tests, but that's not conclusive. So far my platelets and liver function are fabulous.

I got a 2 night stay at Dominican Hospital, I still have nothing but glowing wonderful things to say about the place and the people.

Dennis and Melissa stepped in and picked up the family from the airport (Thanks again, guys!).

And this morning, as if my some miracle, the doctor said I could go home.

While I'd like to pretend it was my positive thinking. Or possibly the fact that I managed to stay in my own clothes and pajamas during the entire weekend at the hospital, and no gowns...

I don't know how we managed it, but I got released for bed rest at home, for the time being.

I'll go back to the hospital for more tests and monitoring on Tuesday. With any luck we'll make it to Thursday and 34 weeks before we see the boy.

And while I'm at it, I just need to brag and tell everyone that he is doing just great. He must have had a dozen NST's from Friday afternoon to this morning and he is really good at them. In each one he is strong, active. No signs of my condition distressing him at all.

Way to rise above what's going on with mom, kid. It's a great lesson to learn young.

Many, many thanks again for all the worrying and all the well wishes, and all the prayers.

Apr 06 2007

Beliefs

Sometimes I know exactly what I believe. Other times, my own beliefs seem to bend and conform to whatever the present situation. I like to think of it more as being open to possibilities than being wishy-washy but that is, in all likelihood, defense of ego.

Maybe there's room for being wishy-washy when it comes to the big universal questions of "Why am I here?" "What does it all mean?" "What happens when we die?" "Why do bad things happen to good people?"

We all find our own understanding, some in philosophy, some in religion, others within themselves. To each their own, right?

When someone very dear to us passed away, Andrew and I had a talk about what to tell Bella. Because our very dear friend was a devout catholic, we decided that if she had lots of questions, it would be OK to tell her that he went to heaven. That's what he spent his life believing in and working towards, and I certainly wasn't going to discount that to my child, for the sake of my own non-belief.

Which opens up a fresh dialogue in my head. Do you believe? Or not? What is the cultural value in believing in something bigger than yourself? What is the personal sacrifice in giving credence to a higher power?

Yesterday, I dropped off some stuff at the lab at Dominican Hospital. I usually go in through the emergency room entrance, which is around the back. The lab is up front on the right, opposite the chapel. It's a Catholic hospital. Somehow that is reassuring. Part of me wanted to go into the chapel and express gratitude for making it to 32 weeks yesterday. Part of me wanted to go in and beg for some reassurance that all the trials and tribulations we're going through right now will all work out for the best.

I didn't go in. My hypocrisy does know its own limits, it seems.

And now on to a third seemingly unrelated story.

Last night I had two dreams about Bella. In the first, it was just me snuggled up with her. She was asleep and I was spooned around her and it was the best feeling, because I just miss her so much. I struggle daily with questioning myself, "Are we doing the right thing?" Mostly, I think we are doing the right thing, but it still is hard because of missing her and Andrew.

The second dream was kind of funny. Andrew and I were in Fremont, I was driving the Celica with Bella in the back and Andrew was driving the Corolla. We realized we had some free time, so why not get Bella in to see the Dentist? I said, "Let's go, I'll call my old dentist on the way." We both drive off.

A few blocks down the road, I realize Andrew is driving to my recent old dentist's office in Milpitas, and I'm driving toward my childhood dentist's office in Fremont. I call him on his cell to tell him he's going to the wrong place. I'm pulled over, having trouble getting him on his cell, when I finally get through I tell him, "It doesn't matter honey, no dentists are going to be around today, it's Good Friday."

I woke up. My conscious mind was apparently auditing my dream. I shocked myself awake with the fact that my subconscious was aware that today is, in actuality, Good Friday.

Maybe my subconscious is Catholic. Maybe I can send it into a chapel and find some peace.

Apr 01 2007

My Article in Growing Up Santa Cruz

Is now available online right here.

And I just got the new Aptos times for this week and inside is another article about Bella and the March of Dimes. Unfortunately, their website has not been updated with new issues since September 2006. I'll post a picture as soon as I can.

Mar 24 2007

Love

Thank you everyone for the calls, concern, well wishes, prayers, and comments.

I'm really feeling the love and it feels good.

Mar 21 2007

The Diagnosis

Yesterday I was diagnosed with mild preeclampsia.

I knew it was coming, but still, it's tough to have a label.

Fortunately, the doctor also said that I am doing very well, the baby is doing very well. He believes I may still carry to term, and feels it extremely likely I'll make it to 34 weeks at least.

We reach 30 weeks tomorrow. I'm already so grateful to be this far along. I never imagined I'd get here. Now we're just watching and waiting to see how long my body will hold out against the disease process. How long my body will continue to nurture rather than endanger the baby. There is no treatment for preeclampsia, except bed rest. No cure, except delivery.

I think I'm mad, too, to have my dream bubble of a perfectly healthy, full-term pregnancy shattered. However fleeting and unrealistic that dream was.

Still I do know I am very fortunate. And all well wishes, thoughts and prayers are welcome.

Mar 20 2007

Eclectic Taste

Yesterday I went to the library and borrowed 4 movies. The selection there is interesting, but based on the feedback I'm getting from people, my choices are more interesting.

I chose to borrow; Gypsy, LIttle Women, Bull Durham, and Trainspotting.

And less than 24 hours later, I've watched (and enjoyed) them all.

Strippers, German Romantic Philosophy, Baseball, and Heroine.

Yep, that's me, that's yeah.

Mar 16 2007

Running the Gauntlet

This morning, when preparing to go to my regular OB visit I did the following:
- Pack a snack, water bottle, and pair of socks

- Make sure all windows and doors are locked

- Take out garbage and recycling

- Bring cell phone and charger

- Bring book and magazine

I prepared as though I'd be sent over to Dominican again. I prepared to be there a while. Forunately, my blood pressure was nowhere near the 154/110 it was last week. It was only 132/90. Not superb, but not enough to send me directly to the hospital.

Since getting home I've been sitting on my bum. I will be doing more of this. Loads more.

Mar 15 2007

Being a Mom

I've got a lot of time on my hands for thinking right now. Something that has been going around my head for a while just suddenly gelled together.

I can't believe I'm down to 9 weeks (I'll deliver at 38 at the latest). We've done very little to prepare for the baby so far. It's almost like if we get completely ready, then he'll arrive early? I don't know.

But that's not what scares me. You know what makes me panic? The thought of having a huge baby that's not on a schedule, that has an umbilical stump and possibly a circumcision. The thought of actually having a baby that is big and strong enough to breast feed with gusto.

When Bella came home, she'd been in the hospital for 3 1/2 months. She was only 4 lbs, but she was on a schedule, her umbilical cord was healed, she knew all about baths and changings. She also needed all the extra soothing, quiet time, and avoidance of overstimulation that goes with being a preemie.

Sure, we had to learn to handle her nasal canulla and monitor her oxygen hook-up. Yes, we had to use special bottles for babies with special needs (that cost $50 each). Yes, we had to take a CPR class just to be able to take her home. Don't get me started on the special supplement and 4 separate medicines we had to learn to administer. We learned more about medicine than I ever thought we would.

It's weird. I mean, I don't want to think that having a preemie was easier, because it wasn't easy and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but it's what I know.

So it's like I'm going to be a first time mom. Which is wild. I really don't remember being so scared the first time. Maybe I just didn't know what I was getting into. This time I know enough to be a little scared. Hopefully I've learned enough from Bella to muddle through, maybe even to do a good job.

Mar 15 2007

Bored in the House

There was a wild woman from Indonesia that I went to college with. She used this expression a lot. She was frequently "Bored in the house."

Me? I'm lying low. Taking it easy. My family is gone for 2 weeks and I have just little old me and the belly to take care of. And I like it. I'm not bored.

There is a nagging voice telling me to get my lazy behind up off the couch and put away Bella's toys and vacuum. Another that says I should do laundry. Another that says I should spray the dandelions in the front yard with vinegar before they take over.

So, I'm home alone, hearing voices. Hmmm...

I have a hard time accepting limitations in myself. I always have. Maybe too many things came too easily to me as a kid. Maybe. There's a big part of me that thinks I'm just fine, thank you very much. And I can go about my regular business. Why slow down? Why take it easy?

Oh, right, for several very good reasons. The baby, for one. 29 weeks today! It's a far cry from 26, but not far enough for my taste. Andrew, for another. I don't need to make him worry any more than he already is. I do love him the most. Then there's Bella. What wouldn't I do for that girl?

So I go about my business, slowly. I feel a little abashed that I'm lying on the couch while the dirt piles up. But I'd rather be safe than sorry.

Mar 03 2007

Pride

Can you believe it?

Growing Up Santa Cruz

Hopefully, they'll have the March issue on the Growing Up Santa Cruz website soon.

Until then, here's the text of my article. I think they did a very nice job on the layout. I'm just so proud I could bust.

(Please let me know if you would like a copy of the newspaper. I'll mail them out.)

Born Too Soon by Dawn Syren Jenkins

The first few days of parenthood are the most exciting, exhausting and sometimes terrifying many parents will face. The challenges escalate exponentially when your newborn is one of nearly 500,000 born prematurely every year in the U.S. That is the same as the total number of babies born in California last year. Over the last 25 years, the rate of premature birth has increased almost 31%. Today, one in eight babies are born before 36 weeks gestational age.

Contrary to popular belief, premature birth is not the sole property of crack addicts and car accidents. The causes are varied, often poorly understood by the medical community and can affect almost anyone. Proper prenatal healthcare can help, but sometimes there is little or no warning.

What does it mean to be born so early? Premature birth is the leading cause of infant mortality. Of those that survive, 25% will face life long health issues, such as cerebral palsy, chronic lung disease, hearing and vision problems, mental retardation and learning disabilities.

I, like most women experiencing their first pregnancy, didn't give prematurity a great deal of thought. I went to my prenatal appointments, which went well, ate as well as I could and tried to take care of myself.

Our family got a crash course in prematurity when at 26 weeks gestation; I became seriously ill with severe preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome. We had just begun discussing our birthing options, looking for baby furniture and decorating a nursery. Suddenly, my life was in danger and so was our baby's. My naïveté that I was somehow protected by my youth, my health, my education or my socioeconomic status, was immediately stripped away.

Our daughter weighed just 698 grams, about 1.5 lbs., at birth. Babies born at this weight have about 60% chance of survival and no guarantees regarding hearing, vision, brain function or lung function.

Within 24 hours she suffered a pulmonary hemmhorage and had to undergo surgery to close a duct between her heart and lungs. It would be 2 weeks before we were even allowed to help change her diaper and she’d need an extra shot of morphine, before we could begin, to help her cope. It was 4 weeks before we would be able to hold our little girl for the first time, and only then with the assistance of 2 nurses and a respiratory therapist.

Milestones are very different in premature birth. Instead of books filled with first smiles or first baths, parents have vivid memories of surgeries, blood transfusions and first unassisted breaths.

The earliest babies, those born before 34 weeks, are at great risk for Respiratory Distress Syndrome (RDS) and bleeding in the brain. RDS can be minimized with age or can result in lifelong issues like asthma, greater susceptibility to illness and can lead to child care problems. Bleeding in the brain can resolve itself in time or can lead to the need for developmental, physical or occupational therapy and can mean lifelong challenges with learning disabilities.

In December of 2006 the Preemie Act was passed by the House and Congress and signed by George W. Bush. This bill authorizes the National Institutes of Health and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to expand research into the causes and strategies to prevent premature birth and would also increase federal support for education and services related to prematurity.

California has been ahead of the national curve in this area. Already parents can receive benefits ranging from financial assistance with medical bills through Medi-Cal, to therapeutic assistance in the home through agencies such as the San Andreas Regional Center. Intervention of this kind means hospitalized infants will get the care they need and help minimize the drain on public health and education resources.

Although there have been great strides taken in the area of medical treatment for premature infants and in follow-up services available to them, the key to moving forward from reaction to prevention is in the hands of organizations like the March of Dimes. The mission of the March of Dimes is to improve the health of babies by preventing birth defects, premature birth and infant mortality. They carry out this mission through research, community services, education and advocacy to save babies' lives.

After 119 days in the hospital, our daughter came home and we began experiencing all the wonder and terror of being new parents. Once we had settled into our roles, we discovered a need within ourselves -- we needed to take our experience and do something that would make a difference. With the help of the March of Dimes, we are now using our energy, passion and understanding to raise awareness and educate others about premature birth.

The spring after our daughter was born, we participated in our first Walk America event, at Vasona Park in Los Gatos. This year will be our fourth year walking, our third as Family Team Bellapalooza. We found that once we shared the opportunity to make a difference with our friends and family, they couldn’t wait to join us.

To find out more about how you can help prevent premature birth, please visit http://www.walkamerica.org. Sign up your own family team and make a difference.

To sponsor team Bellapalooza or read more about our daughter’s story, please visit walkamerica.org/anothersunrise .

Mar 01 2007

27 Weeks, Baby!

Happy I'm-Still-Pregnant Day, To Me. Happy I'm-Still-Pregnant Day, To Me.
Happy I'm-Still-Pregnant Day, To Me.

Happy I'm-Still-Pregnant Day, To Me.

I'm not going to start doing this every day, but I am pretty darn grateful for each and every day. Every day inside is worth so much developmentally. Every ounce of growth and baby fat is priceless.

In case you didn't know, I am feeling 100% different this time around, too. I'm not overly sensitive to smells and loud noises. I'm not feeling like everything I have to do is the last thing in the world I want to do. I don't have to drag my ass out of bed every morning. I am sleeping very well. I mean, I may be a frequent visitor in the bathroom all night long, but still I'm sleeping well. Even healthy food choices are appealing. Though I will admit that steamed broccoli benefits tremendously from cajun seasoning and spinach salad benefits greatly from homemade balsamic vinnaigrette.

Oh, and I don't have an aweful nagging headache every stinking day. Wahoo!

I'm experiencing things I never did before. I'm starting to feel the limits of my now moved stomach muscles, and the limitations of my back muscles. My belly is out of control, the OB actually said I might like to go get a support belt at a maternity store. Plus, I'm working the coco butter lotion, hoping to keep the baby-racing-stripes to a minimum.

Yes, I don't usually feel like doing my hair or putting on make-up. Sometimes I do try a bit, thoughl. Yes, I still have wicked acne like never before in my life. And, yes, my hair around my face is all turning quite white, and I need to touch it up. Small, teeny, tiny prices to pay for a healthy, full-term baby.

What a thought. A healthy, full-term baby. Imagine.

Feb 27 2007

An Anniversary of Sorts

Tomorrow is a big day. An anniverary of sorts. Tomorrow I will be 26 weeks and 6 days pregnant. It doesn't sound like a milestone, or not any kind of a traditional one, does it?

That's the gestational age Bella was when she was born.

I like to think I'm not freaking out about that too much. Like to think that I'm all in control of my faculties. But the fighting with Andrew, the crying jags, and the general overeating of the last two weeks say otherwise.

I gained 15 lbs. the first 24 weeks of my pregnancy. I gained 5 pounds in the last two weeks. Oopsie.

Now, I've had some very good news at appointments lately. My blood pressure is OK. The baby is growing, maybe even a little ahead of schedule. My blood work has come back normal. Things are looking up.

I did, however, flunk my 1 hour glucose test. By a narrow margin, I had too much sugar in my blood at 1 hour. Now I get to do the 3 hour test. Whoopie!

What would it mean if I had gestational diabetes?

1) It could contribute to having a larger baby.

BRING IT ON.

2) It could mean having a c-section.

ALREADY DOING THAT.

The only down side is that loading up a fetus with sugar, can lead to hypoglycemic infants, which is not super. So, if I do turn out to have gestational diabetes, I will behave myself.

Once the anniversary has passed, I think I'll be able to chill out a bit. Meanwhile, here are some pictures from the walk I took to the beach with Bella on Friday. (Yes, I can do it, just not every day.)

Burried Feet

For more pictures, go to Flickr.

Feb 19 2007

I did it!

The article I wrote about prematurity and the March of Dimes will be published in the March edition of Growing Up Santa Cruz.

I got my first article published!

Wahoooooooooo!!!!

Feb 13 2007

Me, me, me, I, I, I

Had a great week of home monitoring of blood pressures. I also had great labs from yesterday.

My OB was fairly giddy today about the whole thing. I'm still to 'take it easy' which apparently means I need to sit down (or, optimally lay down) twice as much as I'm up doing things, for as many hours as I'm awake. Sleep doesn't count in the equation, I asked.

What does that mean? I means we get clean clothes, bedding and towels again! Wahoo!

The baby-with-no-name, commonly referred to as "Brothery" by his big sister, is doing just fine. He's growing at a nice rate, has a good heart rate, all that good jazz.

Feb 10 2007

Cravings

Honey Nut Cheerios. I've nearly eaten an entire large box this week. Sometimes for breakfast, sometimes for snack, loads and loads.

I haven't actually liked cheerios since I was about 10 years old. This week, I can't get enough.

At least they're not super bad for me.

Feb 07 2007

Try and Relax

OK, so the labs are good. I even had a dip stick today and it is fine. FINE.

I had an ultrasound and Baby Boy Jenkins is up to 1 lb. 7 oz. now. Amazing. All parts present and accounted for. Growth right on target. Kicking his mom like a crazy man.

In other news, the blood pressure continues to be up a bit. In fact, the ultrasound today showed that the blood pressure is up, but still in the high normal range, in the umbilical cord.

Stepping up our already close monitoring...
I'll be seeing my OB every week. I'll be seeing the perinatologist for ultrasounds ever other week. I'll continue watching for warning signs and monitoring my blood pressure at home.

And I'm supposed to 'take it easy'. This is not a well-defined medical term.

I won't be doing any remodeling, weight lifting, auto maintenance, yard care, etc. I will be more lazy. I will let my daughter watch too many movies. I will sit my happy ass down. I will read a book or two.

I will, unfortunately, tell the March of Dimes that I am unavailable to be the Family Council Chair. I will feel like a complete heel, and like I let them down.

Maybe tomorrow something will click on in my brain that makes it easy for me to behave selfishly in all things, all the time, for the health of the baby and me.

The time to panic isn't here yet, people, FYI. The time to be extremely cautious and prudent is.

Feb 05 2007

Breaking News: Labs OK

I can't speak for the dogs.

But my doctors office called today to say that my labs came back, all normal.

Yahoo!

I'm still getting my own high blod pressure readings at home, but they aren't yet into the danger zone.

My thanks to everyone out there pulling for us.

Jan 31 2007

It takes a village idiot

To raise my blood pressure.

My blood pressure was up at my OB appointment today. Not to dangerous levels, but it means I have to go get more blood drawn and save up my pee for 24 hours for the lab to analyze, and come in weekly for them to check it.

I gotta tell you it just pisses me off to no end that a nurse takes like 10 seconds to perform a blood pressure check, and she totally looks like her mind is elsewhere, and BammO! She announces my BP is 140/90, like I should be ashamed of myself.

UGH. So the doctor comes in later and says, "your BP was high." I told her, "I'm not buying it." She takes it herself. Twice. Paying full attention. 126/88. OK, it ain't perfect, but, BUT it's not 140/90. What's the big deal about 140/90? If I'm taking my bp at home and the top number is 140 or more AND/OR the bottom number is 90 or more, I'm in trouble. I need to call my doctor immediately. I'd very likely be put on bed rest, effective immediately, do not pass go, do not collect $200, until after you've had the baby.

Bed rest. And how the hell am I supposed to take care of my highly energetic 3 year old and run the house, cook the meals, etc. on BED REST?

Right. So the nurses flippant attitude, and lackadaisical work ethic, threatening my freedom, well, it raises my blood pressure.

Jan 09 2007

If you need me...

I'll be in the corner, mood swinging.

And I'm not alone! Bella slept poorly last night and refused to nap at nap time, and ate poorly all day. She's been a real pistol. Between the two of us, I think Andrew is ready to head for the hills today.

OK, and where the hell did she learn the expression, "Ding, dong, you're wrong."

Because, ooh, I know there are much worse things she could say, and I should appreciate the fact that she doesn't yet use this expression in anything close to an appropriate moment. But man, when I hear those words come out of her mouth...

OK, yeah, mood swings are bad, m'kay?

Jan 05 2007

Not a Good Candidate

Maybe you can call it Jan Brady Syndrome. As a middle child, I crave the approval of others. Not in every case, but in certain situations. If I interview for a job, I had better be offered the position, whether I actually want it once I meet with the people or not.

I know this about myself. Sometimes it pushes me to do 'the right thing' even if I'm afraid.

Fear is such a strange malleable thing. I can remember waking up in a cold sweat in 8th grade, for fear the landfills would overflow and life as we know it would come to a screeching halt. I can remember lying awake at night in 5th grade because Mr. Crosby, a first year teacher, thought it would be fun for us to study monster lore in the Fall. Witches and Frankenstein were fine, it was the Vampires that really kept me up at night.

When I'm home alone, noises and strange puddles can send me into a tailspin. I've even been known to feel a bit scared after watching UFO or ghost shows.

Now, deciding to have another child has filled me with fear. Not so much fear that I can't function, but it does make me a bit edgy. I'm concerned for the baby's well-being, as well as my own. If I'm going to bring children into this world, I sure as hell intend to be around to raise them.

One of the greatest weights of my decision addled brain came at my Wednesday appointment. (No, she didn't say, "Well, it looks like you're just as healthy as can be and are in no way going to develop preeclampsia or HELLP Syndrome." Sorry. I know, I wish it were that, but it's not.) My doctor opened my chart, started flipping through and said in a casual way, "Oh, we finally got your records. It looks like you're not a good candidate for VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section) after-all."

Oh joy, oh rapture! The Vampire has been slayed. The clown doll from Poltergeist has been banned from my house. I don't have to do the right thing; because it's the right thing, or because it's what people think I should do.

I know, am I crazy? Whoopee, now I get invasive abdominal surgery, for sure!

I must be crazy. Because my next thought? Now I've got to hold onto this little one until 36 weeks, so I can have my scheduled c-section at the super-posh maternity and surgery center. The one where the rooms come with a stocked refrigerator, 500 square feet, a tv with vcr, and some of them have whirlpool tubs.

Dec 28 2006

I have three words for you

I am insured.

Halle-freaking-lujah.

It's been a long road. But I'm now free of COBRA. Yahoo-eeeeee!

Dec 14 2006

Baby Brain, Believe It

Andrew left for a trip last night, another red-eye to Minnesota.

This morning Bella and I had to head out to the grocery store. We were out of such things as skim milk and apple juice. Unheard of.

Well, we were just about ready to go when I started looking for my keys. I checked the usual places, purses, diaper bag, counters, my dresser, etc. I even checked pockets, as Andrew had found my keys for me the other day in a jacket pocket. No keys were to be found.

Undaunted, I pulled the emergency car keys out of Bella's dresser drawer and grabbed the key out of the deadbolt, and we were off.

Now, I'm not the kind of person who regularly loses keys. I locked the keys in my first car once, in plain sight, I learned my lesson when those trying to assist me broke the outside locks on both sides of the car. I've never had to have a home or apartment locks changed.

Imagine my surprise when I walked outside, bent to unlock the car door, and saw my keys sitting right there next to the emergency brake in my car.

They must have fallen out of my bag while I was juggling getting everything out of the car yesterday. Not that I had an unusual amount of stuff. I didn't.

I blame the baby. In fact, I think the only other time in my life I had trouble keeping track of something as simple as a set of keys was the last time I was pregnant.

Baby brain is real, people. It can strike when you least expect it.

Dec 02 2006

12 days of Vacation

On my 12 days of vacation I managed:

- 12 loads of laundry
- 11 trips out shopping

- 10 laps with the vacuum and duster

- 9 piles of filing

- 8 kinds of cookies

- 7 movies watched

- 6 lunch dates

- 5 lovely walks

- 4 hours wrapping

- 3 birthday presents

- 2 beds made

- and a 24 hour urine collection.

And I can't wait to have my family home!

Nov 30 2006

Way Too Much Information - You've Been Warned

So, I'm at the end of my holiday home alone fest and trying to cram in all the shoulda's along with the wanna's.

So the Celica is at the dealership, getting all the recalls and inspections done, as well as a nice new, non-squeaky serpentine drive belt. I'll be picking it up this evening.

And I'm sticking around the house for 24 hours, doing a medical thing. If you're easily nauseated, stop reading now.

When I was at Washington Hospital overnight, before I was ambulanced to Stanford and had Bella, they had me do a 24 hour urine collection for analysis. They were observing me overnight, I had nothing better to do, so I peed into a plastic thing over the toilet and poured it into a large bottle on ice. All night long. But whatever, no big deal. Like I said, I had nothing better to do.

When my OB suggested, at my last appointment, almost a month ago, that I do that again, at home, I was fine with it. She was really surprised. What am I going to do? Complain? Get in the way of someone trying to keep me healthy? It's to get a baseline, see what's going on in there with proteins, etc.

Yesterday I managed to get to the lab to pick up the 'equipment' as the doctor called it. I laugh now, because the equipment consists of a large orange plastic bottle with my name and such written on it with a sharpee, in a white paper bag. I'm the only trick or treater taking stuff away from the lab, so it draws stares from people waiting to leave their blood etc. and go.

The lady asked, "Do you have anything to collect the specimen with?" I must have looked blank. She says, "We have something, but it's small and it won't hold a void."

Small vessels can't contain the void.

Don't look directly into the dark void.

Philosophy and urology. Who knew?

I said, "Sure I'm sure I've got something." Not sure that I do. You see, I don't favor plastic at all. I favor pyrex and I'm not peeing in pyrex. Not gonna do it.

How vast is a void? How large a vessel do I need? What if I'm cast adrift in my own vessel, lost in the void...

Oddly, it made me wish I had that tricky little "top hat" (as the nurses called it), thingie from the hospital. It even had an easy pour spout. But no, I have big red disposable party cup, the kind I used to drink keg beer out of at college parties. So weird, so ironic.

Still not as ironic as it would have been, explaining to my newly potty trained daughter why mommy keeps peeing standing up, into a red cup, and then storing it in the refrigerator. Which will be thoroughly cleaned before my family gets home, because, yuck.

I've only got another 6 hours left in my 24. If you know me, you know I drink a lot of water. Right now I'm wondering if I'll make it the full 24 hours or if I can just be done when the 'equipment' is full.

Nov 28 2006

Reach out and touch me

Speaking in strictly technical terms, something is wonky with my e-mail now.

The comments are mostly straightened out, so if you commented and it's not there, I'm sorry. Please try again. Love goes out to Bailey, Melissa (yes I really do have cousins), and Annie, it's good to hear from you!

If you've e-mailed me recently and I seem to be ignoring you, well, I might be. I'm pregnant and hormonal and, no, wait. I'm not. I'm reallly not. I don't seem to be getting all my e-mails. Please try again or pick up the phone. Really, I still remember how to use it. I swear.

Nov 18 2006

12 Weeks Down, 28 To Go

Wow, I can't believe I'm 12 weeks along already. Last week, week 11, was a crucial week, as loads of blood vessels that will supply oxygen and nutrients to the baby were forming. Here's hoping they are abundant and well formed.

Last time I was pregnant, I was relieved to have a heart to heart with Jodi and discover that there is another woman out there who thinks that pregnancy sucks. Really. I know some women are energized and all aglow with the wonder that is pregnancy. But that just isn't me, or my experience.

Let me say, though, that I don't feel as bad this time as last. I mean, I get tired and nauseous, but it's not nearly as bad as last time. 99% of smells bugged me, loud noises hurt me, there were a million things I couldn't or wouldn't eat. I was not any fun to be around. I used to have to drag myself out of bed, and only the smell of warm milk ready for cocoa mix lit up my mornings.

This time, it is mostly my vanity that is hurt. I've only gained 2 lbs., but my jeans don't fit. In fact, jeans one size larger don't fit. My shape is not the shape of regular jeans. Thank goodness for work out pants. The front of my hair is white, white as snow, because I won't risk coloring it, at least not in the first trimester, and probably not for the whole 9 months. My skin is greasy, like never before in my life. I have more acne than I ever had as a teen, and Proactiv is not helping at all. As if this weren't enough, I also have dandruff that Head and Shoulders won't touch. Plus, no deodorant seems strong enough these days. I swear the moment I eat anything with garlic or onions in it, the essence of those plants is immediately exuded under my arms. Mmm. Add a little tomato and oregano and I'd smell like a pizza place.

Wah wah wah, freaking wah. Right? No. I wake up feeling great, almost every morning. I hardly get any headaches. I have enough energy to do what I need to and what I want to almost every day. I'm still working out about 3 times a week, when Bella's well enough to go to the gym. I have enthusiasm, too. Plus, I'm not neglecting my family too much, either.

All in all, I'd say things are great. If I get my Christmas wish, we won't see this little one until May. It can be early May, but please, not until May.

Nov 17 2006

All I Want For Christmas

The other day, when I asked her what she would like Santa to bring her for Christmas, Bella said, "Decorations for our house."

This is kind of a stunning answer from a 3 year old, who just read a whole bunch of books about Christmas.

Over the last week or so, we've been out to Target, Kmart, and Costco, for various items and general holiday browsing. So, after she went completely nuts over the animatronic polar bear singing Christmas Carols at Costco, I thought I would be in for a vastly different answer. Although, technically, the bear would qualify as decorations for the house...

Her answer tonight stopped Andrew in his tracks in the kitchen. Tonight she got specific. She said, "I want a Christmas tree, a bell, and a diamond."

Andrew stopped washing the dishes and told me to put this day on the calendar. I assured him that she must mean the shape diamond, which she is very familiar with. Because the gem diamond, she has absolutely no reference point for. Mommy's ring is just mommy's ring. She's not interested.

Oh, but she is very interesting.

Nov 09 2006

So Wrong On So Many Levels

I don't really do this much, but today I must.

The blogger over at Celebitchy rated the hottest kids TV men and it's a riot.

So, go over to Celebitchy and check it out. If you've ever had to watch Blues Clues, the Wiggles, or Lazytown, you'll get a good giggle.

She's so right. These men are no Mr. Rogers or Captain Kangaroo.

Nov 08 2006

Comment Flood

I was just beginning to think that I needed to put up a post about how sad and lonely I am, because no one ever comments anymore.

Then Andrew asked why I wasn't approving comments anymore. I said, "I haven't gotten one to approve since August."

Yep. Just about the time I got fed up with having to manually delete junk / spam / porn comments. So I turned up the settings on my junk filter.

I'm so sorry, all of your precious comments were sent to junk.

They've all been retrieved now. Thank you all for the love. I am neither sad nor lonely.

Oct 19 2006

Things I Love

About Being Pregnant:

I love that I never have trouble falling asleep at night. I'm too exhausted to fret.

I love that the smell of warm milk is the most amazing thing every morning.

And I honestly love having a good excuse to put my well-being up high on the priority list, guilt free.

Today, I'm accentuating the positive. I get my camera back tonight and you can all breathe a collective sigh of relief as I return you to your regularly scheduled pictures of cute girl.

Oct 18 2006

Pregnancy Nose

Thank goodness we don't carry the child there. Can you imagine?

But everything smells, and not in a good way. It's like there's always something yucky smelling, not close at hand, but in the next room. Hard to say what it is, but it's not good. Doesn't matter if all the dishes are clean, the garbage is out, the dishcloths are all in the garage... Something always smells bad.

What the hell is with that? Is that so you can like smell a stinky dipe from 20 feet away? Is there some primitive survival benefit to be being able to smell my own scalp a mere 10 hours after a shower? Or some benefit to be being repulsed by a sales persons bad breath from 8 feet away?

Oct 15 2006

9/26/06 Day 2 of I Can't Believe I'm Pregnant

Well, today we took Andrew to the airport. I'm still feeling great. A bit tired. Lots of yawning.

I'm eating well, drinking more milk, loads of veggies and fruit.

I've done some yoga and dancing with Bella, for exercise.

My blood pressure is 115/82, heart rate is 86. All of which is normal for me. Yeah!

Scared? You betcha. Still in a little denial? Mmm Hmm. Can't wait to tell everyone on the planet? Yes, but I'm waiting. I've told some of my support groups online. But for everyone else, I don't want to make everyone worry.

Relax, meditate, go for a walk with the girl this evening.

Still need to call the doctor.

Oct 14 2006

9/25/06 - OMG - BFP!

No one is going to believe this, any more than I do. If you don't speak IM-language that is OH MY GOD, A BIG FAT POSITIVE (as in pregnancy test, people).

This morning, after just returning from my grandmother's funeral, I did a pregnancy test and it was positive.

I am so stunned and terrified and, yes, even happy, that I can't even deal.

After a second test, of a different brand, confirmed the results, I told Andrew. I put a hamburger bun in our oven and when he came in for lunch, I asked him if he could check the oven for me.

He didn't get it. But was at least as stunned and scared and happy as I was.

Now I'm sweating over the beers, wine, and smokes I had while in Pennsylvania. Not so much over the stress of this particular family event. Oh, and a few half doses of sleep-aid. Great. At least I ate pretty well while there.

I need to make a doctor's appointment, but I'm still stunned. Maybe tomorrow.

Oct 13 2006

Let's Do This

OK people. I better spill the beans or no one will come back here anymore.

I've been out of circulation and spinning in a whirlwind of activity because...

I'm pregnant. (Anyone still with me? I'm not kidding.)

I've got back-posts to put up. I'll do that tomorrow. You can read what's been happening.

Meanwhile, I'm keeping an eagle eye on Bella this weekend, as per her doctor's instructions. We're on whooping cough alert. So far, so good, knock wood.

Between my raging hormones, vomitous fits, lazy-ass-exhaustion and her illness induced lethargy and bad temper, we're a real winning combo this weekend.

Love to family and friends near and far.

Oct 07 2006

What is going on?

A girl can't go MIA and spend all her time down at the beach without raising a lot of questions.

Beach Running

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K. More info to come. Check out our new pictures on Flickr to get a look at our recent days.

Sep 09 2006

Yoga Part 2

The first time I got serious about yoga, I had just signed on for the most stressful job of my life. I then immediately signed up for a community center yoga class, two times a week. I got much more than I bargained for.

First, the instructor was Maude from "Harold and Maude." She celebrated her 80th birthday during the time I took her class. She was absolutely amazing; positive, energetic, self-deprecating, and a hell of a lot bendier than any other 80 year old I knew. There were things she did that I still can't do.

One of the best things about this instructor, as opposed to my first health club instructors, is the sense of humor she infused in the practice. While calm, quiet, focus and things like that are all important to practicing yoga and improving, nothing beats having a sense of humor.

How can you not have a sense of humor in a dank old grade school gym, full of a crazy mishmosh of retirees, dotcom nuts, earth mother types, and the like. Occasionally, you'd hear joints creak, you'd hear someone fart, someone would fall out of a pose (literally), or you'd find yourself doing things you never imagined doing in public.

Honestly, you can't take yourself too seriously when you get down on all fours and arch your back in public. When you make turtle faces, circle your nose, roar like a lion, or do cat-cows.

Besides sense of humor, self care was a big focus of this class. The instructor talked about the importance of taking time to exercise your body, time to nurture your spirit, time to build strength, time to pamper yourself with a massage. Between stretches and power poses, we massaged our hands, wrists, feet, and legs. Trust me, it's not like tickling yourself, this really works.

The class was full of living ideas. Ways to be in the world. Ways to live life. Real, grounded, often forgotten principles like being present in the moment. Now, that may be the closest we got to religion talk. But it is so basic a principle, it's a wonder it sounded so new to me. Keeping your thoughts focused on what you're doing. Not multi-tasking. Being aware of your body, where it is, what it is doing, how it feels. Being aware of your breath, how hard you're working. Being aware of your emotions, not judging them, just acknowledging them and moving your focus back to the work at hand.

Stop thinking that your car needs an oil change, you need to call a client, your child needs something for school, your house needs a cleaning, your husband needs some attention, you need to call your friend... Stop thinking you should have studied harder in school, you should have kissed more ass to get ahead at work, you should have bought a new car when you had a chance, you should be a home owner, you should do more for the environment, you should do more do more do more...

Just breathe.

Sep 05 2006

Yoga Part 1

When I first started doing yoga, back in 1996, it wasn't something people talked about a lot. It wasn't the subject of credit card commercials, mommy circles, or a highlight at many gyms. In fact, the first several times I mentioned it to people, they had one of two typical reactions.

The first reaction was to wonder if I had found some group of hippie relics, who were smoking dope and playing Ravi Shankar music and getting mellow with yoga. The second reaction was, "You've joined a cult?"

I found both rather surprising. In 1996, the classes I took were taught at a gym, by an aerobicized woman. We did not even use mats or bare our feet. It was more of a glorified stretching class. There were no hippies who even belonged to my gym, smoking was strictly prohibited within the building, and there was a bare minimum of talking, none of which including anything remotely like religion.

Having been habitually and ritualistically assailed by the Campus Crusade for Christ at Hamline, I can now recognize a pseudo-religious conversation starter in less than 10 seconds. Believe me, there was none of that in my yoga class, just nice hard work to make me feel good, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Aug 27 2006

Deep Inside the Forest

I've been quite candid with Andrew regarding the fantastic number of hours I spent watching TV as a kid. Regardless of my candor, I really shocked him the other day when I burst into the Grizzly Adams theme song. Yes, I know the whole song, word for word. Without even pausing to try to recall. No, I haven't watched it in years.

It is a wonder I have any capacity to pick up new information at all.

Fortunately for our marriage, my husband was as charmed as he was surprised.

A few days later, I named the (original) "Battlestar Galactica" theme song in less than 10 seconds. So I got that going for me, which is nice.

Aug 18 2006

Another Beautiful Day in Paradise

Tree Glee

We went to the park yesterday, as you may know from my previous post. It was beautiful.

The night before last, Tammie and Joe watched Bella and Andrew took me to dinner and a concert for my birthday.

The concert was at the Mountain Winery, which is confusing to me, because I keep wanting to call it the Cedar Mountain Winery, which I know is wrong. I know it's wrong because that is where Tammie and Joe got married. It is located in Livermore. The Mountain Winery is located on a mountain in Saratoga.

Downtown Saratoga is fully loaded with pretentious yuppies and fancy-dancy over priced restaurants. Wait, let me rephrase that. Saratoga is a beautiful oasis of civility, it is devoid of homeless people. Or, if there are homeless people around, they are dressed by the city council to match the decor of the semi-rustic looking buildings or local flora.

Don't get me wrong, I do like gourmet food. There are several expensive, white tablecloth, highly recommended restaurants in the 1 mile strip of downtown. The problem is, on my birthday, I wanted something I hadn't had in quite a while. A really good burger, real fresh onion rings, and a coffee shake. I wanted the food that made being a vegetarian impossible all those years ago. I wanted the food I don't make at home. We went to a diner in Los Gatos, called The Diner, and had a great dinner and enjoyed superb service and a fun, light hearted 50's atmosphere. It was fantastic.

After dinner, we drove through downtown Saratoga and out onto the windy road with posted 20 mile an hour signs (which no one observes), around curves, into blinding mountain sunset glare, it is most exhilarating. Past several poorly marked streets, when we were just about to throw in the towel we hit a sign that corresponded to our directions and we turned up, into the mountain. A little farther up the mountain we saw the gate and turned in. Mountain Winery is the historic Paul Masson winery. As soon as we crossed the gates, we saw the ancient grape vines winding their way upward.

Up and up we went. If we had not been in an open air Mercedes transport truck, bouncing through the jungles near Puerto Vallarta a few weeks ago, the steep, winding, bumpy road would have scared the pants off me. As it was, we were very entertained, and grateful we weren't trying to walk up to the winery.

We got into the parking lot, without a hitch, and as we stepped out vertigo hit us both. Imagine a slab of asphalt, on top of a fair sized mountain, at about a 45 degree angle. It's like the fun house or the nightmare where everything looks OK, but suddenly you've lost your footing and you're sliding off the earth.

The estate is a very nicely done event location. There is wine for sale along with espresso and the usual concert goo-gaws.

But I haven't yet told you who we were going to see. Toad. Toad the Wet Sprocket. They were wonderful, as always. Glen, the lead singer did a lot more talking than we remembered from previous shows. Perhaps it was the intimacy of the small venue, or the cool clean air. Is there clean air in the Silicon Valley? No. So that can't be it.

He was telling us that he doesn't write those "catch your eyes across the room, wonder who I'll be taking home tonight" kind of love songs. Apparently he's been with his wife since he was 18, that's 17 years now.

Plus the bands children were marching around, checking everything out before the show. Their cuteness made up for so much. It helped make up for the fact that few of the wine-o's made it to their seats for the 7 p.m. start of the show. It helped make up for the OBNOXIOUS women sitting behind us, who were chatting so loud during the first few songs, I could have committed homicide.

Seriously, if you put the effort into going to a concert, and you put in the extra effort to get into the first few rows (we were in row 2, yeah!) then maybe you could have the courtesy to catch up with your vapid friends BEFORE or AFTER the show. When you're so close that the BAND can hear your pointless yammering in quiet spots, you need remedial charm school.

I shot them a few looks. I did. It didn't work. Finally, between songs, I'd kind of turn around and exclaim, "Oh my god!" in my most valley airhead voice. Yes, I did. And they shut up after I did it like 3 times.

The sun set during the show. The music was great. The proximity was amazing. The candor and ease of a band that's known each other so long was fantastic.

A beautiful evening in a beautiful place. It was the best birthday present (aside from getting to be a mom a week before I turned 31) I've ever had.

Aug 17 2006

Overheard at the Park

Mom1: "Oh, I want my son to learn how to swim, but my husband is too busy to take him."

Mom2: "We swim every evening, why don't you come over and join us?"

Mom1: "I won't get in a bathing suit, are you kidding me? That's why I wanted my husband to take him to swim lessons."

Mom1 is like 5'6", weighs a max of 130 lbs. Probably wears a size 6 or smaller.

I just don't understand.

I'm 5'7" and haven't weighed less than 180 since before Bella. I just spent a week at a resort in my bathing suit. Not once did I feel weird.

OK, so maybe she doesn't want to hang out in a swim suit, but she won't just 'get over herself' to help her child learn to swim?

Therapy people, get some.

Aug 14 2006

Party Party Party

Everyone needs a party hat

On my birthday, we went to Tammie and Joe's for dinner. Everyone made me a nice little party. It was fun. Bella insisted we all have party hats on, just like we did at her birthday party. Tammie took her downstairs and dug around until they came back with these hats. Yep, those are the ones we bought for her first birthday party. Now that's getting your money's worth.

Now, about the drama. Can I just say that I made a horrible mistake? We were scheduled to fly home on the 9th. We always take the evening flight. Always. For some reason, I booked the morning flight, either wanting to make a change or thinking it was the evening flight. Both flights run approximately 9 - 11.

So, after a leisurely lunch of sushi in downtown Minneapolis with Andrew and Paul, I went back to the Jenkins house to pack. I pulled up my flight information and about hurled. Here it was 3 p.m. and we were all supposed to be on a plane 6 hours ago. Uh oh. What do you do?

First, don't call Travelocity. They will charge you an arm, a leg, and your first born. Because my first born is worth well over $1.5 million, I decided to try calling the airline directly. I stayed on hold with Travelocity, waiting for some offshore customer service experience, which was sure to delight, while I dialed the NWA phone numer from memory on my cell. Guess who answered first?

Could they rebook us on the flight that evening? We really were ready to go home. Yes, just one problem, when they changed our seats on the flight out, they did something in the system that indicated that I had not flown. So, after about an hour and 8 different people working on the problem, we got rebooked. We were charged a small rebooking fee, each. Which is more than I wanted to pay, but much better than the difference in the fares.

So, I was awake at Midnight on my birthday this year, just settling back into my house. Our house. Happy Birthday to me.

And on Wednesday, I get the best present of the year: Andrew has managed to get front row seats for us to see Toad the Wet Sprocket and Big Head Todd and the Monsters at a winery. Isn't he the sweetest?

Aug 06 2006

Sick Sick Saga

For those in our inner circle, the circle of trust, the chain without chinks...

You know that I've had a cough now, nigh on 3 weeks. I feel as though I've spread my TB from here to there and back again. By plane and Mercedes open air truck, on zip line and shuttle bus alike.

This morning we, as a small family explored the experience of visiting an urgent care location in another state. My cough seems to have spread to my illness prone child and I have been overcome by guilt.

As it turns out, it is fairly easy to do. And if you arrive just when they open on a Sunday, you are seen quite quickly. We were in and out in less than an hour, and that included a substantial amount of paperwork.

Bella's ears were not full of 'buggies' and her lungs are also clear. Yahoo! She's just got a cold, so we'll keep hopping her up on the cold medicine and tylenol, and try to get her to drink her sippy and eat something (she's dropped a pound already, if only we could all drop pounds so quickly!), and using the inhaler to prevent her lungs from getting gunky. Hopefully she'll snap out of it and feel better by the time we get on the plane Wednesday night.

As for me? Be it sinusitis or some kind of bronchitis, I got amoxacillin. Whoo-whee! No specific diagnosis, but my lung gunk and fever (but not my elevated blood pressure, stress is ugly) were enough to buy me into the antibiotics game.

I even got to try the InstyMeds machine, where I got my prescription filled by a vending machine in the lobby. It was slick, and a mere $6. I highly recommend it.

Jul 12 2006

What is Squidoo?

Something I'm doing to help get out information regarding HELLP Syndrome and Preeclampsia.

It's a fun informational site, like the My Space of information. You can develop a page with information on any topic you like.

Scoot on over to www.squidoo.com/anothersunrise to see what I've got going on. Please feel free to share it with friends and be sure to let me know what you think. I could use some constructive feedback!

Thanks!

Jul 05 2006

If it isn't one thing, it's another.

Growing up in older homes, and living in some beautiful older homes in college has formed in my mind a fondness for them. A kind of home nostalgia, as if merely by living in them one can return to another time. All days gone by seem to be a simpler time. The problem with this scenario is that I was not responsible for home maintenance in any of these fine old homes, so I wasn't really in on the secret.

The secret is that all these older homes require serious maintenance. The less attention a home has had over the years, the more care it requires now. As renters, we are 99% free from the financial burden of this maintenance, but it can get annoying when there is a lot of it.

Because the garbage truck tore down the phone line, we've been having phone and DSL issues. Once the line to the house was replaced by the phone company, they didn't stop. We had a technician in our house for hours, replacing the two phone jacks and re-running the outside lines to both. Our phone lines are entirely fresh. Are our phone and DSL troubles over? Nope. Far from it.

I gently asserted when the technician was here, that we've been in the house 2 years virtually wihtout a hitch, but once the garbage truck severed the line, we've had nothing but grief. To which, the portly John Wayne character gave me a, "Now, don't worry your pretty little head none, little lady, I repaired that wire, so I know that's not your problem."

Could I have just had a giant feminist hissy fit? Yes. But I didn't. I refrained. Now we're still in the same boat, and I don't even want to call the phone company to clear it up. But I will. I was going to today, but...

We had a bit of a sewage problem over the weekend. And you know, it's never as simple as you want it to be. Our landlord informed us that the people who lived here before us called Rotorooter like every six months, and we haven't had to call them in the two years we've been here. But the situation went from bad (toilet back-up) to worse (sludge in our bathtub that wouldn't drain) to what the hell?

Yeah, so there's no access outside the hosue, so the Rooter had to take the toilet off. He informs us said toilet is 40+ years old (which we knew) and needed to be replaced. He offers to call the landlord who says, "OK".

Mr. "I don't want to put any money into the house" Landlord says OK. Who knew?

Crazy.

Jun 23 2006

Spooky

There's no question that as a country our perspective on the world changed on September 11. Generally speaking, I try not to let the acts of a few people color my entire perspective on the world.

Last night, I pulled a new book off the book shelf, to read to Bella. It was Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel.

She was none too interested based on the cover. There were no cute critters on the cover or anything colorful at all! But she let me begin and tollerated the story for a while.

When we got to the part where they talked about Mike Mulligan and Mary Ann digging for the railroad, that was pretty cool. And them digging for the highway, that was pretty cool. And then, then digging for the runways for airports, well that was fantastic. She loves planes, airports, the whole nine yards of travel by air.

Then I turned the page and there was a big picture of tall skyscrapers and they talked about Mike Mulligan and Mary Ann digging the deep basements for the tall buildings in the big cities. Yeah, that's when Bella chimes in, "That's where the planes go down."

I about fell over. Or threw up.

Then reality hit, she was still thinking of the page before. With the airplanes and airport and the RUNWAY.

Yeah. She's still 2, almost 3. And she has no idea that planes can hit buildings. That our country is at war. That global warming is threatening to irreversibly damage our world in less than 10 years if we don't get our collective acts together and do something.

Maybe we can all get our acts together and then, instead of sending our apologies to future generations, because money-grubbing and over-indulgent lifestyles prevented us from saving the world for them... Well, maybe we can just tell them a cautionary tale of a near miss.

Ooh, and happy Friday. Sheesh.

Are you serious?

Our children say, "What the hell do you mean, you meant to do more, but never got around to it?"

Jun 22 2006

Happy Anniversary!

Duluth Portrait

To us!

What an amazing four years it has been. Not that the first 9 or 10 didn't have their moments, too.

I love you, man. And thanks for the redesign.

Jun 21 2006

Late Night Thoughts

Just got home from my sister's house. It's just after midnight. The house smells like dinner, in a really good way. I made a really great pot roast, with mashed potatoes, gravy and cooked carrots. The whole 9 yards. It turned out really good. Even Andrew, who doesn't like gravy, was sopping it up with bread, because it was just so good.

Making a meal like that, the kind of labor intensive meal that was reserved for special Sunday dinners at Grandma's or something like that, makes me feel like a real, established mom.

It's funny. I mean, I feel like a mom 99% of the time, but right now I feel like an old time mom. The kind that comes to the door and says, "Come on in now, honey, I just baked a fresh batch of cookies."

The whole of which is bizarre, taken in the context of the conversation I was just having with my sister, about my sordid and unhealthy former relationship wtih food. Now, how a girl who grew up reading cookbooks and watching cooking shows for fun comes to have an eating disorder where she eats virtually nothing is just unnatural.

I may not always be happy with my current body build, but making an elaborate meal and enjoying it with the family I love so much beats the hell out of starving myself and feeling alone.

And a special warm fuzzy goes out to Andy, for being the only friend I had at the time to say, "Uh, Dawn, I think you have a problem."

Even though that didn't fix it, it was just kind of nice that someone noticed.

Go love your family and friends, and if you get the chance, cook them a special meal.

Jun 01 2006

Duluth, Minnesota - April 22 through April 24, 2006

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Minnesota is pretty flat, eh? The clouds were clearing, the sun was shining and the tunes in the rental SUV could not have been better. We drove slow, afterall, it was Earth Day!

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My honey.

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And me.

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Drove by lots of farms, trees, open land. Some cows. A few billboards. Once you exit the cities, stage north, it's like leaving civilization behind. All the city stuff that hunches your shoulders around your ears just falls away.

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The skies cleared even more as we rolled on past more birch trees and flat ground. Green Day, Lenny Cravitz, Walt Mink and the Trainspotting and 50 First Dates soundtracks all in the mix. (Yes, sadly that is a bug carcass, in the center, between the clouds. Mmm...)

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It's about a 2 1/2 hour drive. What can I say?

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This sign has always cracked me up. Cloquet and Duluth. I think we have the french to thank for both of these names. And then the colloquial location names of North Shore and Iron Range. Two vastly different places. Together on one sign.

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Psst! You're not supposed to take pictures of the sun with a digital camera, even through a tinted sunroof. FYI, this has never stopped me.

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Enough of smooth land! Let the water ways begin!

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There is a curious kind of nature / city / industrial freak show kind of beauty going on, once you get into Duluth. It builds slowly.

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There are more and more signs of civilization, as you begin amazingly to drive uphill. Then BAM! Over the crest of the hill you find yourself in a bustling harbor, full of people, buildings, shipyards and captains of industry. Those picutres, unfortunately, were taken out the windshield of the car and are full of bug carcasses. Sorry.

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If you get off the highway too soon, you find yourself in the wrong side of town. But there's a charm to the old warehouses and paved streets, that I can't explain.

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So begins the panoramic view from our hotel room, in the tower.

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This is Lake Superior, people. The bitch is huge.

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It has it's own new aquarium, an odd building plunked down out of the sky by aliens, yet educational, I'm sure.

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Then there is the lift bridge. The sheer affection people have for this local landmark is phenomenal. It isn't pretty. It isn't exactly enormous, considering the size of the lake. But shoot, it goes up and down, and you just don't get that in a lot of bridges in the middle of the midwest, so that goes a long way toward making it special.

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Yes, dear, that is an ocean going vehicle. Yes, this far inland. Don't forget about the St. Lawrence Seaway, for goodness sake.

And this from just the first 4 hours of our trip. Could it get any better than this?

May 03 2006

Holy Moly

Has it really been so long? I'm such a slacker. Been having a good old time, NOT BLOGGING!

But I want you to know. I love you, and I miss you, and I'll be back on the wagon soon.

I promise. Including lots of new pictures.

Mar 16 2006

Out of Town

Hi everyone. If you haven't donated to our walk, please do so at www.walkamerica.org/anothersunrise.

If you have, you have my thanks.

I'm going to Disneyland this weekend, for Kayla's cheer competition. Andrew is flying solo with the super girl! Go daddy, go!

Here's a parting shot for you. Check you next week!

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Mar 06 2006

Don't Joke Me!

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There is a character on Sesame Street, a little girl monster, who sounds like she's smoked 5 packs a day for all of her little life. Her name is Zoe, and her big catchphrase is "Don't joke me!"

Ahhh. I love Sesame Street. Don't get me wrong. And bad grammar is not a new thing for the bastion of PBS child educating television. Remember Grover and Cookie Monster.

Cookie Monster is now a health-food advocate, if you can believe that. And Grover is, well, rarely seen.

Bella likes to use this expression. It makes me giggle and it makes me cringe all at the same time.

I actually wanted to use it today. Andrew and I have been getting our life insurance sorted out, like the proper adults we are. My great reluctance to deal with these things is only overcome by the guilt and stress I feel when they are not in proper order. We recently found out that Bella does not qualify for a rider on our policies. I wanted an explanation as to why. I'm like that.

Rather than spend my time calling and harassing people at my very trusted insurance company, I e-mailed them. I know it sounds like a cop out, but in this way they can find the appropriate person to answer the question and get back to me, saving me time and in all likelihood avoiding a scenario where I get ticked off and yell at people because no one wants to help me.

So, I got that call this morning. And it turns out that the underwriting policy is to NOT offer any kind of coverage for any child born premature until they are, get this... TEN MOTHER F*CKING YEARS OLD.

Does this push all of my buttons?

Oh yes. Yes it does. That means ONE in every EIGHT children born will not qualify for any kind of life insurance until they are TEN years old.

I'm guessing that will also be the age that regular old health insurance companies might be willing to take a risk on covering them, too.

I was remarkably calm and nice to the person who called me. She doesn't make the policy. She did note that because Bella has been so healthy since she got out of the hospital that they would consider (CONSIDER) her again at age 5.

Well, that's just swell. Superb, even. Thanks?

Feb 17 2006

Freaky Little Monkey

Andrew is out of town and I am a freaky little monkey.

I guess growing up wtih so many people in the house, you just don't spend your time wondering what noises are and the cause for every little thing.

And I do just fine, until Bella goes to bed. Then every noise in the house gives me the willies.

This morning, Bella woke me up, as usual. But not with the "Mama! Hey, Mama!" Nope, this morning she yelled, repeatedly, "No! No water on my head!" Which is weird.

She still sleeps in a crib, mostly because it is convenient and she hasn't tried to get out of it. It works for us.

So, yeah. No big deal. Right? She didn't have water leaking in her room or anything. Must have been a dream she woke up from or something. Maybe the rain?

Until I got into the kitchen and there was a puddle of water on the floor. Not by the refrigerator, not by the sink, not by any kind of water supply, pipe, and there were no leaks. It was by the garbage can.

Water evaporates slowly on the tile floor, but yeah, I'm pretty darn sure it wasn't from me mopping the floor yesterday afternoon.

I don't know what it was from. It's just weird.

So Bella's physical therapist was here today. And she asked if Andrew was golfing, which is not unusual for a Friday. I told her he was out of town. She said she hates when her husband is gone. I said, me, too. But just because I'm freaky paranoid about every little normal household noise and things.

She asked, "Like what?"

And I started telling her. Just then there was a thump in the hall. I got up to check it out, and one of the framed art pieces we got from Steve and Lee for Christmas had fallen off the wall.

So, yeah, I'm feeling pretty good about the next 6 nights, home alone.

It may all be in my head, but Tiffany jumped when the art fell, too.

If you need me, I'll be here pretending nothing is wrong. Or crouched in a corner at my sister's house.

Jan 10 2006

My Name Isn't Surly

Every so often, I am utterly taken aback by the rudeness of those around me.

I went to the gym this afternoon. A place most people go to in order to improve or maintain their good health.

While I was in the cardio area, I noticed a woman less than 10 feet from me hacking up a lung. Coughing with abandon, wildly into the air. Her back was to me, or she would surely have noticed the looks of disgust I shot like daggers at her back. Coughing on your hand and then putting them on the equipment is only mildly preferrable to coughing forcefully into the air that others around you are breathing heavily, generally through the mouth (which offers theoretically less germ protection than breathing through the nose)...

I couldn't take it. Bella's got another cold, and I just don't need to bring home any more germs than is strictly necessary. I left, about halfway through my cardio.

On my way out the door, I stopped at the desk. I enquired, "You have a posted policy for the child care that people are not to bring their sick children. Is there a similar policy for other members?" Here, I gestured toward the obnoxious cougher.

The poor guy looked perplexed. I asserted, "I take that as a 'no', that you rely on people's own good judgement and common courtesy?"

He nodded, looking abashed.

I went on, gesturing toward the offender again, stating loudly, "I'm cutting my workout short today, because another member is lacking in both good judgement and common courtesy. I'm leaving because if I don't, I will likely say something to them. What I have to say will not be as pleasant as, say, you quietly asking them to be more thoughtful of others when giving them back their card as they leave."

Poor guy. Some people are just jerks. Today it was Cough-y McGee, and me.

Dec 20 2005

Automotive Gratification

As a woman, I've had some positive and some negative interractions with auto repair places. I've been taken for a ride, a time or two and I've been well taken care of.

Yesterday, a phenomenon I'd noticed a bit the last few weeks, suddenly came together in my head, as I was driving down the highway. The corolla needs new spark plugs. It was due for an oil change anyway, so I made an appointment and took it in this morning.

The guy says, "What are you in for?" I tell him, "An oil change, and I think the spark plugs are bag, so can you let me know if it needs a tune-up?"

He asks me what the car is doing, I try to describe it, but it's hard to put into words. He says it doesn't sound like spark plugs, but he'll check it out.

Well, he just called, to let me know that the spark plugs are "pretty worn", they should be replaced, but it doesn't need a tune-up.

Now, I'm not sure where I got the information on the spark plugs, it really just seemed to me that the engine wasn't firing quite right, and wasn't giving the pick up it normally has? I'm not the car whisperer, but damn, it sure is gratifying to go in, with Bella in tow, looking like a wreck this morning, and tell them exactly what was wrong with my car.

Which sounds an awful lot like last week, when I took the car to Sears and said, "I need a new battery, please replace it." And when I went to pick up the car, they said, "Yep, your battery was bad, we tested it."

"Right. Good. Thanks."

Nov 29 2005

Dentistry

Being without "group coverage" has presented certain challenges to our family, as it pertains to health.

Most recently I purchased a dental policy for the family. It was the best available in our area, as far as I could figure out. It is more of a discount plan, but included good coverage for preventative services, so we went for it.

I elected myself the family guinnea pig, as I have healthy teeth and an iron constitution. Ok, to be more accurate, Andrew is more particular about his dental practitioners, and Bella has never been.

I was a little surprised to find out that the ______ville family dentistry office was in a strip mall. But decided not to be stuck-up about it. I was also a little dismayed that it was not the cleanest office I've ever been in. But it wasn't as bad as the level II ultrasound and genetic counseling facility in Mountain View, so I decided to just chill.

After very nicely done x-rays the dentist came to meet me. He is fluent in Phillipino and Spanish. His
English is a bit hard to understand, but that is probably my issue.

For once, the dentist did not mention the lack of wisdom teeth. He did notice the cracks in my lower molars, but said they are free of decay and no treatment was needed. Although I was most anxious to get them fixed, having occasional wincing pain, I've heard this stance before and was prepared.

Moving on, he began to clean my teeth. Not the typical sterilized metal tools pulled from the sealed envelope. Nope, he used a power tool. He did the work himself, not a hygienist in the office. It was fast as lightening, with the receiptionist standing by with the rinse and suck tool.

In less than 10 minutes my teeth were dremmel-ed and polished. Wow.

While I was busy internally wondering at the speediness, the receiptionist remarked, "Wow! Your gums MUST be healthy, they aren't even bleeding!"

At that moment, I resolved that my family would never see the inside of this dental office.

But, my teeth are clean, my gums aren't even bleeding, and I have no decay in the grand canyons of my molars.

Hallelujah.

Oct 05 2005

hydrant, definitely

In an ideal world, dinner is supposed to be a family time. A time to regroup and exhault in the good happenings and support each other through rough times. Time to stop working and begin evening relaxation, and just be together.

As a newly rejoined member of weight watchers, it is also the time of the meal I use most of my allotted daily points on. So I want it to be good. Really good. Because I have the same philosophy about points that I have about money. I'm not afraid to spend a little, I just want it to be worth it.

Tonights dinner was not quite what I had in mind, but it all worked out in the end.

I want to tell you what I fed Bella first. But I can't really say. What I can tell you is what I put on my daughters tray tonight.

Leftover spinach and mushroom quiche, usually a hit, not tonight.
String cheese - she may have had one or two bites, possibly none at all.

Cooked carrots - I know these were not touched.

Boysenberry yogurt - four spoon fulls, not even teaspoons, these were baby spoons.

Multi-grain crackers - seven. And then she announced she was done. Not another item, thank you, no no no no no, done.

Sometimes I win a few, sometimes I lose a few. She's getting over a cold, so I try to be patient and just get as many nutrients as I can into her, without starting a giant battle of wills.

For Andrew and I, I made london broil for dinner. Super, right? Although it appeared perfectly uniform in width in the package, once I removed the giant wad of fat that was hiding on the underside, it was terribly uneven. Rats.

So, while the thinner areas were fine, the center portion of It was under-cooked. Raw. Yucky raw, not rare. It had to be re-broiled and re-rested and then the carving could continue. I'm new to broiling so this threw me.

Not to worry, I also made us baked potatoes for dinner.
I cut into mine to dress it up while we waited for the re-broiling. Turns out our potatoes had visitors. IEW. So I tossed those and quickly made whole wheat couscous while I re-broiled.

Finally, I made WW Moroccan carrots and sugar snap peas for dinner. I make these all the time. They are great and quick and yummy and healthy. In the excitement of the re-broiling, I forgot to drain them before adding them to the spices in the sautee pan. So, I boiled off the water and overcooked the veggies while I re-broiled.

Somehow it all came together and tasted pretty good. But I'm beginning to think that I should use my powers only for baking and never, ever for broiling.

Oct 04 2005

Things That Make My Head Spin

Baby beauty pageants. Uhhhh!!! Do you need a taste of that "for the love of god, no!" kind of train wreck you can't look away from? Then do a search on ebay for "pageant sports 2T" and check out the custom outfits for the sportswear competition.

What kind of sick mother hugger needs to put makeup on a 2 year old? Cosmetics? Uh... Glamour, glamour? For a kid who still probably poops in their pants? I mean seriously nothing says glamour to me more than a ticked off two year old with poopy pants.

What is wrong with people?

Living vicariously through your children? Sure it gives some kids opportunities they might not have otherwise had. Like learning to fish or getting to go to the beach almost every day. That's something I think most people do, at least to some degree.

Is there another living soul in the world who is concerned about developing the character of their children? Focused on the inside, rather than the outside? What is it these days, whoever has the cutest kid in the most stylish clothes wins?

And have you seen the obese trolls that tend to put their kids through the hours of torture and denigration necessary to make their children look like barbie dolls?

Shoot, maybe I'd live vicariously if there was no chance anyone would ever think I was cute.

Or maybe they are just far too aware of the depth of their own gene pool and need to sexualize their poor toddlers, so that for just one instant in their life they can be considered attractive.

It is just so wrong, on so many levels.

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"I'm getting outta here before mama blows a gasket!"

Sep 16 2005

Remiss

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Not for letting the baby get a hold of a wine glass. No, despite how naturally she was holding it, it was not her glass.

Remiss for not updating the site in more than a week. It's been a low energy week. I had a heart to heart with my doctor this week about my cholesterol. Yes, it's still too high. Yes, she thinks I'm a heart attack waiting to happen. Yes, she thinks the best solution is to take the drugs.

Maybe I sould take Bella's lead here, and drink more wine. Yeah!!!

Sep 07 2005

Technical Difficulties

In the last few weeks I've been giving a lot of thought to how I would like to change Another Sunrise. Because the site is primarily for my own self indulgence and secondarily to share photos and Bella stories with friends and family, I think I will add new content areas.

In particular I am interested in sharing what's cooking. With a current family swing toward healthier eating, I am once again doing a load of home cooking. Remembering why I love to cook so much. It also doesn't hurt that we finally got some counter space in our little kitchen thanks to a lovely wall mounted counter from Ikea.

Maybe you don't care what I'm cooking and that's cool. That's why it's kind of a side project. See? Everyone wins. I get to think that I'm sharing with the world and no one really has to see it. Perfect.

I'm also test driving a new blogging accessory called Ecto. It allows non-html-literate people like me to make things bold or underline for emphasis. Now you are all in BIG trouble. More on that later, hopefully as another product endorsement. So far, so good.

Other things I'm really digging lately, taking photos of the sun. I know. It's weird.

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I love digital photography. It allows me to do all the completely impractical things I could never afford to try with conventional photography. Because, well, I am way too damn practical.

Sep 04 2005

Oblivious

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I've no doubt that anyone who reads this blog has been inundated with information about hurricane Katrina. By now you may be aware of my active filter. We choose not to have television. No cable, no dish, no big aluminum antenna. We do not get the newspaper, because of the choice to filter but also because I hate that so many trees are cut down, only to get tossed in the landfills because so few people actually recycle.

Not that I can go entirely without being in touch with events in the world. I do catch NPR on occasion when Bella doesn't insist on listening to her Disney music in the car. And I do read news on the web, on occasion. Living like an ostrich, with my head in the sand is hard to achieve in this day and age.

Assimilating the...

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aggregious amount of information. The redundancy that is inherent in televised news programs and on the radio is very hard to stomach. I can remember during long commutes, enjoying periods of time when there was no "big story" being beaten like a dead horse, when I could hear arts news and general interest stories. Stories that were diverting and would take my mind off my road rage. Stories that made the 2 hour, 15 mile commute almost enjoyable.

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It's almost the same with the radio stations playing the same songs or artists over and over ad nauseum. Like, it's quarter after, this must be Maroon 5. Half past? Here comes Kelly Clarkson.

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If happiness is fleeting, I intend to grab every moment I'm getting of it. My favorite news source is the chalk board, at the site of the RV campground host, down at the beach. He gives the date, times for high and low tides, and a warm greeting. It changes every day, and you're not beaten over the head with it.

My heart went out when the Mississippi jumped its banks in like 8 states in 1994. My heart went out to the people who suffered in the Loma Prieta earthquake. Hurricane Andrew in Florida and the Tsunami in Thailand. I can't even begin to fully understand the devastation of these events. It takes about all I've got to acknowledge them, do my small part, and keep on going with my daily responsibilities. To not get caught in the emotional undertow of events in our world.

Maintaining a positive outlook on the world, the wrath of nature, the questionable state of human behavior, is challenging on the best of days. I say, do what you can to help the recovery process. Listen to what you can stomach. Hang on to the beautiful moments you are fortunate enough to have. You may need them some day.

Aug 31 2005

The Sweetest Fruit

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There are always a few tasks which need to be accomplished and I am actively avoiding. Always.

This does not mean that the tasks are not important or that they can wait. It means that there is something about them that stops me in my tracks every time they hit my mental to do list.

For instance, I need to argue with a health insurance company who declined me coverage. This is avoided because it is fundamentally against the way I think the world should work. It's unkown territory, and I need to defend a position I'm not sure I can assert in the first place.

Along these lines I need to make my random exercise more like clockwork, and I need to lower my hereditary high cholesterol. Preferably, I'd like to do it without taking pills that scare me more than heart disease (which doesn't happen to run in my family). I feel 97% clueless as to how to do these. Or rather, I know exactly how to do them, I am clueless as to how to motivate myself to stay focused on the necessary changes day in and day out.

I need to pursue writing, as a daily activity, as a life activity, as a potentially lucrative and fame hoarding activity. The stumbling block is that each time I feel it's time to write, my mind goes utterly blank. Blankness induced by fear of what may actually be written. Fear that I may actually send it off to someone in hopes of being printed. Fear of repercussions if it is printed. Fear, in long-winded, justification type terms.

My excuse for not writing used to be that I wasn't fully baked yet. An ironic statement considering my daughter was only half baked. Ok two-thirds baked, but still. Now that I am more fully baked myself and have some time during my day to put words together and form sentences, it is back to the old crutch. Nothing to write about. No one will want to read what I write anyway. Fear fear fear. Yuck.

Looks like I need to get over that and face up to my own expectations.

Aug 30 2005

Little Things

When you live on the coast, of Northern California, waking up to sunshine is a rare and splendid treat. This morning is beautiful and I will do my best to make the most of it.

When your daughter takes to the beach like it is her natural habitat, it is a rare and splendid treat. Bella and I have been doing some stroller training. She is not normally a fan of the stroller, but when I'm walking fast enough to get a good cardio going, and I am smart enough to pack both the bubbles and her pinwheels, then the stroller is a great place.

We cruise down our dangerous no-sidewalk street, to the state park entrance, up the path, through the parking lot, along the cliff and down the hill. We alternate directions, but always end with a requested "walk in the sand" for my girl.

Yesterday Bella and I attempted the challenging 2 year old follow-up for preemies at Stanford, solo. Dada was too swamped to join us and I was feeling brave and said, "don't worry, we can handle this!" We left the house at 8:30 a.m. for a 10 a.m. appointment in Palo Alto and just made it on time. We had waiting, testing, measuring, doctors visit, and study follow-ups, accompanied by the best waiting room ever for children and some really neat kids. It was 2 p.m. by the time we got home and 3 before Bella and I both fell asleep for naps.

I was just getting home with a grocery store deli dinner when Bella was getting up from her nap. The first thing she wanted to know was, "Can we go for a walk?"

She loves our walks! And last night our schedule put the walk right at sunset. What a gorgeous way to end a great day.

Aug 25 2005

What to do

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Here's what you do when, for some strange reason, you feel a funk coming on and you live at the beach...

Take your beautiful daughter for a walk.

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That works pretty darn well.

Aug 10 2005

Happy Birthday To Me!

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There may be some sort of psychological effect that makes adults feel as though they are not getting any older. Ever since I passed the age of 27, I just don't feel like I'm getting older.

Certainly the first few years of any life, so full of explosive growth and development are amazing. Then there is the rigid structure of school which helps you to feel your age from year to year. The late teen, early twenty transition and acquisition of legal privileges draws clear age lines, so to speak.

Once you get out in the world, on your own, and begin to feel like you're creating the life you always worked so hard to get, there is a kind of timeless stillness.

Maybe, when you've begun to relax enough to worry less about whether you're good enough, cute enough, smart enough, working hard enough, or what strangers think of you, you just want that time to last. Perhaps it's the slight weightless feel that you get at the top of the rollercoaster, when you're almost past the summit and getting ready to hurtle downward. (Ok, seriously, if you've read this far, you know me well enough to know that I am anything but a happy-thinker.)

Without milestones and school to remind me that I'm changing from year to year, I tend to forget. Whatever I'm doing right now seems to have been going on forever, and will go on and on. It's much more than living in the moment. Days pass by in a blurr of these two wonderful faces, in a kind of timeless bubble.

I am the luckiest birthday girl ever.

Aug 06 2005

Shocking

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You heard it here first.

Aug 04 2005

A Run In

Today I had a run in with... The Mommy Group.

You know, those girls from high school who had nothing more important to think about than their lipstick color? The girls who air-kissed? The girls who had everything.

Well, three of them, and their perfectly spaced little progeny were at the park this morning. You can tell a flock, by the way the squeal when they see another member.

They deigned to speak to another mom who was there and I eavesdropped, as Bella doesn't give a rat's ass about whose turf she's on. And I got a little earful about how they "have all been friends just forever, they all got married around the same time, they all had their first kids around the same time, and they all are in different stages on the second. One had hers in a bjorn, one was showing at about 7 or 8 months, and the third had that green look.

Freaking great.

Now, I'm with Bella, I don't care who is at the park. My hair does not need to be perfect to take my daughter to the park. My clothes do not need to be brand new and revealing to take her their either. I may make snide remarks later, but everyone deserves to enjoy the park. I just don't like when they outnumber me. I get a little skittish, like, "Oh my god, am I a Stepford Wife?"

If it's only them and me. And I am, afterall, a stay at home mom who lives at the beach...

Will Andrew one day decide to join a secret society that will make my hair long and my clothes ironed, that will make me exceedingly enthusiastic and ever so excited to see women just like me?

Or has he already?

Jul 24 2005

LOVE

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Back home and spending a day on our own beach. Perfect.

When it got too hot, the fog rolled in and cooled things off. When it got too cool, Bella made her last dash for the water and we walked home.

Good time, good company, great dinner, beautiful day.

Jul 18 2005

Back to Life

Puerto Vallarta is an amazing place. But it's good to be home. I've got the nesting thing going on. I want to clean everything in my house. During the course of my trip I even picked up a few tips, like did you know you can wash most pillows in the washing mashine? I had no idea. I did it yesterday, though, it's great.

It's Monday and I don't yet have my girl back, Andrew and Bella don't get in until Wednesday evening. The strange thing is, that given the opportunity to do almost anything I want in the world, what I want to do is make my home more comfortable for my family. How crazy is that? I get this feeling that all is well if, given an obscene amount of freedom, I want to do more of what I do most every day.

Nesting, it's not just for knocked up chicks anymore.

Jul 07 2005

messages from the beyond

I was having a very odd, yet vivid dream this morning. So I wasn't really too annoyed when Bella started yelling at me to get her out of her crib at 7:20 this morning. (Even though she didn't get to bed until almost 9:30 p.m. last night because of a little throw-up incident.)

So, she was squawking and I asked, "You want to snuggle with mama for a while?" and she said, "Uh-huh."

So I grabbed her and pulled her to me and we snuggled. She was laying by my side for some time when she said to me, quite clearly, out of the blue, "Don't worry, everything will work out right."

Andrew has long told me I'm crazy. That I hear what I want to hear in what she says. I guess this confirms it.

Jun 26 2005

Minneapolis

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Weather. Climate. Mosquitos. Various other pests. Barometric pressure. Migraines. It's like there is something in the air in this place that affects my mental state.

Don't get me wrong, there are things in Minnesota I love. People, places, good things.

Tonight I took a wrong turn. I was thinking about cruising up 35W from my parents tumultuous suburban home. In my first car, too fast. The electric blue '75 Cordoba had quite a large engine, 385 maybe? Not that I have the faintest recollection of what that means. I would fly from Apple Valley to downtown Minneapolis. Sunday nights at First Avenue, all ages danceteria.

I intended to follow 35 up past downtown, but I found myself in the wrong lane, spilling off the interstate into downtown. I drove past new and shiny buildings and the same old buildings. Down by the old mills and warehouses there are countless new "lofts". There are light rail stations and tracks that are new. And they've finally turned the old train yard into something useful, but it's just not as beautiful and I had always hoped it would be.

In fact, on a hazy Sunday night, when the air is still 91 degrees at 8 p.m., the streets are mostly empty. The hustle and bustle of the work day, rush hour, judicial system and commerce are all illusion. The windows like the soulless eyes of vacuous youth.

There is a stillness in the long rays of a Sunday afternoon that has always made me melancholy. Well, almost always. From the time I could find a ride, in sub-zero winters or smelly sewer heat, Sunday night meant danger, romance, intrigue.

For many years, First Avenue meant the weekend went out in a blaze and not a slow sad wimper.

Time for a new Sunday night tradition. Any suggestions?

Jun 25 2005

Still Life

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It's not really like me to stop and take pictures of the flowers. Let alone chat with people about how to grow them (thanks Gene). I don't grow flowers. I don't really dig in the dirt a whole lot. Dirt is dirty and potentially full of bugs. Then there's the whole sunscreen factor. Don't get me started.

OK, here's what I can do. I can stick herbs in the dirt, hope they grow. I will water them. I will occasionally pull a weed or two, cut them back a bit, put them in tasty dishes, harvest them to dry. That's it. That's all I'm good for.

I've never used a power tool to aid in yard work. Never. I've never run a lawn mower. Weed wacker. Power edger. Nor any kind of bush buzz-saw.

I'm not a purist. I'm just dangerous with power tools and not very interested. So the strange neighborhood lady who cultivates her entire yard with just a shovel, yeah I don't think she's so very crazy. Maybe just a bit too much time on her hands.

But here I am, not working and making time for family, in a way I've never really done before. Sure I need some extra allowances for my toddler, but it's really just about spending time. Not the usual get in, get out, get over it kind of thing I barely managed to pull off when I was working.

Talking to people about flowers they grow. I'm not a phony, I think it comes across that I'm not really interested in growing them myself. I'm just interested in the people growing them. They're very proud.

Jun 20 2005

Walt Mink

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On Friday, June 17, 2005 Walt Mink played at the Triple Rock Social Club in Minneapolis. Walt Mink is THE band. The band that is the star of the sound track to my college years.

A fabulous man put the show together, because he is making a documentary about the band. Christopher Butler, thank you.

Above is a shot I grabbed from the web, for two reasons. First, it has Candice (a mom who ROCKS!) in motion. Second, because that is my face beaming at the band in the lower right hand corner.

We flew in from California for the show. I managed to turn the whole thing into a tour of the US. But the impetus for the timing of the trips was this show. When we found out they were playing, we had to go because we missed there last "last" show several years ago. We were in no position to wing off to New York at the time.

It took some time to put our plans in motion and we soon got an e-mail from Mr. Butler saying that the 10 p.m. show had sold out (no shock to us) and that a 5 p.m. show was added. We quickly ordered 4 tickets for the 5 p.m. show and brain-stormed ways of getting tickets to the 10 p.m. show.

Andrew knows people at radio stations, record labels, bands and promoters in Minneapolis. So he figured he'd give them a try.

In my desperation, I had one clear thought. Christopher Butler had contacted me about my knowledge of the band after I posted to waltmink.com that we had used "Sunnymede" in our wedding. I dug up his e-mail address and asked a huge favor. Please, get us into the 10 p.m. show.

In less than 24 hours we had a response from this wonderful guy, "that's just what guest lists are for."

Shock, delight, joy. Ask and receive. It's so simple. We are too lucky.

Both shows were phenomenal. Absolutely, hands down, the best two shows I've seen. I am awed and thrilled to have seen them both in one day and a bit melancholy that they are over.

Jun 08 2005

Jet Plane

Pity party, my house.

Why does it have to take 1.5 hours to get to SFO?
1 - 2 hours at SFO

4.5 hours to Detroit

1.5 hours in Detroit

1.5 hours to Avoca

And then a quick .5 hour drive to mom's.

A good 10 - 12 hours alone with a toddler.

Call me mommy the entertainer, mommy the clown, mommy the singer of songs and rhymer of rhymes.

Good thing there is a serious mexican holiday in my future.

Jun 06 2005

Comedy of Errors

Today, at age 32, I got my first passport. What a thrill.

In a typical Dawn adventure, I got directions off the web, which were wrong. Realized too late there was no parking at the downtown postoffice. After waiting my turn in line for over 30 minutes, I realized I forgot my checkbook, and they only take cash or checks.

Fortunately there was a bank next to the postoffice, and I quickly got some cash and went back. The photos were instant (if unflattering, but you can't have everything) and the forms were completed and sworn over. I'm not actually sure my father was born in New York, NY, but it's the best information and I'm not calling someone to find out.

All in all it was fairly quick and easy. I left with a feeling of lightness, like, I can't believe the United States is going to certify that I am suitable to travel outside of the country...

But they are. And won't the authorities in Mexico be thrilled.

That's right, you heard it here first, Andrew and I are taking a real tropical vacation to fabulous Nueva Vallarta, Mexico. While Annabella has a fabulous humid-continental vacation in fabulous Mounds View, MN.

Life is good. Love my girl, but adult vacations are good, m'kay?

May 28 2005

Hippotherapy

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Yes, indeed. When the physical therapist we met with at Stanford, back in February first mentioned it, my first thought was, "I have to go to the zoo?"

Good grief. Have I mentioned that I am not a fan of the animals? Not that I dislike them. Not that I wish them ill. They are simply not who I would choose to spend my time with. Annabella, on the other hand, is a huge fan. Of all living and book and stuffed animals. She wants to talk about them, talk to them, look at them, touch them and anything her Dada and I will let her get away with.

Because I love my daughter, I did some reasearch. In fact, there are no hippopotami involved in the therapy. I'm flashing back to "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" here, because, hippos, which come from the greek word for horse, and there you have it... Horse Therapy. http://www.americanequestrian.com/hippotherapy.htm

Initial reactions on my part were entirely irrational. I can freely admit it. Freely. Visions, fueled by The Simpsons, of my daughter outfitted in proper riding habbit, which much cost a fortune for toddlers... Visions which included a helmet (which I truly wish were involved). Leading down a very expensive road of horse buying, horse boarding, hours spent in the company of other horse enthusiasts, caring for horses, feeding horses, brushing horses, training with horses, riding horses, showing horses, racing horses... All these activities richly enveloped in the fertile scent of horse hockey. Mmmm mmmm. Sign me up!

Empty my bank account, suck up my free time, and please disconnect my olfactory sense. Please.

The alternative to the suggested hippotherapy was regular physical therapy. Which seemed like a great idea to begin with. Once you actually find a physcial therapist that will work with a toddler, then you get to embark on the joy of having a stranger impose movements upon your terrible-two-year-old. Shall we say that Bella is not exactly a fan of being touched by someone she sees once or twice a week? Particularly someone who forces her to work muscles she doesn't like to work? Muscles which are not typically used, and we all know how that feels.

So you have a squirmy, fussy, teething, independent spirit, who is on the go 100% of her waking time, and you think (you silly fool) that she will just go along with your master plan? That she will stand at the couch and let you correct her back, her shoulder blades, the tilt of her hip bones? You think that she will just let you make her use the dreaded right leg to stand, to climb, to kick? You think that she can be cajoled into reaching overhead again and again for the same silly toys you bring each week? Are you kidding me?

If it sounds like a tough road for a stranger, it's no easier for mom or dad to repeat these feats throughout the week. Get on your exercise ball! It took weeks of cajoling. And I'm not 100% sure we do those exercises right, before she decides she's had enough.

I can not follow her around the living room, adding "just a little" downward pressure on her hips.

I do not want to think that a weighted vest, designed to help kids with sensory integration disorder will actually help her to "straighten up and fly right." Because I'm afraid if I do admit it, someone will say she has the dreaded SID. And I'm afraid if I don't admit it, I may deny my daughter valuable help she could use.

Damned if you do. Damned if you don't. My current perspective is that the weight of the vest doesn't allow her to have bad posture, otherwise she'll fall over. She's learned to walk with her little body idiosyncrassies, to keep her balance fairly well. But if you add just a bit of weight, it throws her off, forcing her to "straighten up and fly right". Brilliant. And I don't have to talk about any kind of disorder if I don't want to.

So, fed up with all the ifs, ands or buts, I finally got over my fear of large animals and called to sign Bella up for hippotherapy. We've gone now, twice. After the first circle or two, when mom and dad duck out of sight, she actually stops fussing and talks and points and has a good time. In fact, she was excited when we went back the second time. We're going 4 more times before we leave on our big trip back east.

Everyone wins.

May 20 2005

Beauty

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I'm finally getting the hang of the mac, as opposed to the pc. I had to turn in my work PC a few weeks ago, you know, when I stopped working...

And now I have myself a hot little ibook with everything I need to update the site, work with photos, read e-mail, sell crap on ebay, etc. It is a beautiful thing.

May 15 2005

We're Off

We're off to "Walk America".

Thank you to everyone for your support.

More news and pictures later.

Dawn

May 11 2005

Lions and Tigers

When we were last at Stanford, the Physical Therapist on staff recommended Hippotherapy.

My first thought was, "And we'll have to go to the zoo for that?"

Apparently hippo is the greek or latin for horse. Sure. Whatever.

And now, I've finally done it. I have made an appointment to face my fear of large animals. Next Friday I will drive Annabella down to a local ranch, after her physical therapy, and we will see how she feels about horses.

Hopefully I can keep my opinion to myself and they won't evaluate how I feel about horses.

Yucky. Large Scary Animals. Yuck.

Anything for my girl, though.

May 09 2005

Appreciation

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers, aunts, grandmothers, and great grandmothers I know and love!

It is so strange to find myself being among the celebrated ladies of this special day.

So much so that I actually stopped and had a little chat with Annabella yesterday and thanked her for making me a mommy. (Yes, I thanked Andrew, too.)

I can't believe how fortunate I am, to have such a great family. I must remember to hold onto these feelings and wield the power I have for good and not evil.

What a change. What a miracle. What a joy.

Apr 18 2005

Do Not Buy Items Posted in Comment Section

Now that I am about to be free, I find I have time to police the comments on my website.

To whit, please, if you have any urge to spend nearly $1,000 on a stroller, stop. You have two, much more rational options. One, send me the money. I'll buy you a reasonable stroller and pocket the rest. Two, seek counseling.

Finally, to all you mole-flickers, salmon beeches, and mother huggers who think you can post free ads for your over priced crappy products on my personal blog, you are wrong.

Repeat offenders will be publicly flogged, and thoroughly ridiculed.

Do not cross me. I'm about to have way too much time on my hands. Once that happens, there is no way I can possibly restrain myself.

You have been warned.

Apr 18 2005

Free At Last!

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One more day and Mommy is done working! Yeah!!!!

Apr 15 2005

Mary Flipping K

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Nice skin, mama!

If I can get just three (suckers) people to my house, to get a fun-filled demo... And if they spend just (just?) $200, I can get a credit for $50 of merchandise.

In a world of cult-like home-sales organizations, this one really cracks me up. I honestly had only ever been to one of these makeup parties before. I was 19 years old, and a very nice gal I had worked with in an office on campus had decided to supplement her (schmuck) husbands meger radio disc jockey income with some fun filled parties, she threw in her spare time.

I showed up a bit late, after the trays and mirrors were distributed. And my friend's mentor (a queen B or something) remarked as I entered, "What beautiful skin you have!" Obvious attempt to use me as an example for the rest of the (sucker) clients, or perhaps a blatant example of how to suck up to strangers, in action.

What I should have said was, "Well, you know, I am 19 years old. So I have that going for me, which is nice." What I said, as I blushed, was, "Thank you."

She then asked if I was currently using their products. Uh, no. "Well, do you mind telling us all what you do use?"

"What I use for what?"

"Your skin care regimen?"

What happened next was truly one of my most brilliant sadistic moments, but I had no idea at the time. I answered honestly and simply, "I wash with Dial soap."

The B looked as if she had been physically struck. "On your FACE?"

"Yes."

Pulling herself back together, she said, "Do you exfoliate?"

"Yes, sometimes I use the Buff-Puff."

Her jaw dropped, as if I'd just said, "Why, sandpaper, naturally!" I dare say she must have been afraid to ask the next question.

�Treat acne?�

�When I get it, I sometimes put rubbing alcohol on it.� Agony on her face.

"Do you moisturize?"

"Oh, not really. When my face feels dry, like if I got a sun burn or something, I usually grab hand lotion and put that on it."

Visibly shaken, but ever the sales barracuda, she admonished, "My goodness no one has ever needed our skin care line more!"

During this line of questioning, I really had no idea that I was pushing every button this woman had. I had thought I was going to go try on different makeup colors, which for me would have been a rather novel experience, as I had hardly worn a bit of makeup since I landed at college and I had all of about $15 in the bank.

Now, when she said that last part, I started to feel a target of ridicule. As a feisty, feminist 19 year old woman, I was not about to become a model of bad behavior for some snooty, diamond encrusted, pink Cadillac driving purveyor of beauty tonics. So I said, "Excuse me, didn't you just say that I have beautiful skin? Why would I need your products?"

Perhaps she was surprised that a woman who attended one of these parties had enough self confidence to stand up for herself. She pulled herself up to her full 5'4", and responded, "I can only guess you have good genes. But that won't last you forever."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure my genetic makeup won't be changing any time soon, unless your samples are radioactive."

Apr 04 2005

Fifteen Thousand

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Goodness!

Do you have any idea how to get to 15? Fifteen thousand?

Andrew and I, Tammie and Joe, and Karen. We built a team. Team Bellapalooza. We talked and planned and actually did something.

We solicited everyone we know. To join the team. We all set goals. Do our individual goals even add up to $15k? I'm not sure.

Do we have enough team members? No way!

Do we need more donations? Hell yes we do!

Times flies by and we still need your help. I'm beginning to feel like a PBS station here people!

Give us a call. Act now. Join our team, sponsor our team, pass it on.

Save the babies!

Apr 02 2005

Counting Down

So many times in my life it has been the anticipation of the thing that is even greater than the joy of the event itself.

But that's not quite right.

For vacations, I love the luxury of having weeks and weeks to day dream about all the fantastic details.

But when it comes to other things, like having a baby or leaving your job... In one case the build up could never match the actual experience. And in the other, the longer it takes the more painful it becomes.

I got a new count down this morning. Mindi and Nicholas are coming to visit in May for the Walk America event! I've started the count down and I can't wait.

Yeah!!!

Mar 28 2005

Walk America

Do you miss the days of personal posts?

Happy Easter and all that jazz?

Help me meet my goal and I will get you some real personal information.

Go to http://www.walkamerica.org/anothersunrise
and sponsor my walk.

Why?

Because every year more than 470,000 babies arrive too early.

Because many of them will have hospital bills in excess of $1 million.

Because you can prevent many of the causes of prematurity with education.

Because no matter how amazing treatment is, it will ALWAYS be better for the baby if prematurity is prevented.

Because no baby should have to work that hard, when they're supposed to still be relaxing and growing inside their mom.

Save the babies.

Mar 23 2005

Bellapalooza

In the name of Spam! More Spam in the name of Spam!

OK, so maybe I have Spam on the brain in preparation for an Easter celebration at a certain Crooks' house, where Monty Python recitations are mandatory over the age of 2.

Or perhaps I'm referring to my recent spamming of most people I know with an e-mail requesting help for the March of Dimes.

I am not in the slightest ashamed to admit that I expect everyone I know to drop what they are doing and either sign up to walk with us, or send money, and hopefully spam on. Spam on and send my spam to everyone they know.

Why? Because there are TOO MANY PREMATURE BABIES. And who is helping to save the babies? MARCH OF DIMES!

Love my baby? SEND ME YOUR MONEY!!!

Seriously.

I am the mom.

The mother!

And my sister Tammie has already left me in the dust of her fund raising. Now, I'm not super competitive by nature. Seriously! But. I. Am. The. MOM!!! Come on, people. You know who you are.

If you won't help save the babies, would you please help me beat my sister?

Come on, now, I'm the mother. How does it look if I can't meet my goal to help save the babies?

http://www.walkamerica.org/anothersunrise

Please. Help save the babies.

Mar 21 2005

Eleanor

My last post was partly inspired by writing a good old fashioned card to my grandmother. Which, my mother mentioned this weekend, my grandmother totally enjoyed.

Tonight I got a call, from the phone tree, telling me that the very same grandmother of mine is currently "unresponsive". So, while this is not a great shocker for a 94 year old in a nursing home, it is a terrible blow to hear such things about a woman who I love so very much. About my grandmother who I've been thinking so much about lately.

And while, as Tam said, she may snap back tomorrow and tell us she's spent a week at the beach, I'm quite sad.

Grandma, I love you! Somebody, go hug your grandmother! And mine, the 94 year old who'd love nothing more than some good conversation, a boiler make and a smoke.

Mar 14 2005

Cards

The U.S. Postal Service is enjoying a bit of a rennaisance due to things like Ebay. At the same time, the art of the hand written letter is going away.

I'm the first to admit that I like to use Evite to send out invitations. Even when Andrew prints new and interesting cards for us to send, they seldom have that personal note.

I've amassed quite a collection of beautiful and/or vintage cards and should send them freely at all times, but I don't. I've even been slow about sending updates via e-mail to family and friends. I don't pick up the phone and I'm down to updating this site once a week.

While organizing, I pulled out a card for my grandmother. She's 94. Good lord. 94. And I am trying to do a better job of telling her I love her. A better job of telling all the people I love that they are important to me.

Whether that means another boom for the postal service or I actually pick up the phone, I'm not sure. One way or another, the love will go out.

Mar 01 2005

Some Days

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Some days are just like that. Sometimes you're the dog and sometimes you're the hydrant.

Maybe I should sell this image to "Feed the Children" or something.

I wanted to write something witty and interesting today, but I saw this picture in my collection and thought, "That is exactly how I feel at this very moment."

Fortunately, as the name implies, tomorrow is another day.

Make the most of it.

Feb 23 2005

Whoa!

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It's hard to create photo art without photoshop, and that is not a shameless plug.

When acquaintances said something about Bella not walking, it was usually something like, "you're lucky" or "just wait".

We know she can do it. She's been walking while holding our hands for months. She's been pushing herself to standing with her legs since long before she came home from the hospital.

Watching her take her careful steps, I am amazed at the painfully slow progress of learning something like that. Like learning to fly on a trapeze or walk a tightrope or do calculus. I have never had the privilege of helping someone take on one of these arduous tasks. The slow building of skill, muscle, and mental fortitude that finally leads to mastery.

In my minds eye, walking was going to be like a switch that is flipped. Much the way crawling was. One day she was just pushing up to all fours, a week later she was rocking front to back, the next week she was scooting backwards, and the next she was crawling, quickly, like a champ. All of this occurred just before we moved to the beach, in time for her first birthday.

The loftier the goal, the farther there is to fall.

This is something that I have had to contend with since the first time I failed to achieve something I really worked hard for. There were several things along the way before this road block that I had to work harder in order to achieve. So I did that. But generally speaking I had coasted through my young life enjoying easy successes.

I whole heartedly invested myself in the lofty goal of earning a Ph.D., in a very specific and selective program, at one of four highly selective universities. I failed to get myself accepted, to any of the 4 schools I applied to, for two years running. Devastated, without a single clue in what direction to turn, I gave up.

That is when the term 'fear of failure' became a part of my understanding of myself. I invest myself enough to achieve the desired outcome, but rarely put my heart and soul into projects. Rarely do I put myself out there.

The general feeling is: if I only try a little and fail, I've only lost a little. If I invest my whole being and fail, I've lost everything. It's not my general affection for expediency that dictates my distaste for having to scrape myself up off the pavement and reinvent myself.

Then there is being a mom. There is no half way. There is no trying a little.

I wanted to be a mom with all my heart, though in retrospect I had no idea what that would really mean. I lobbied hard. I studied up, took vitamins, visited the doctor, and we went for it.

My pregnancy wasn't easy and glowy.

We stared down the genetics counselor.

We looked down the barrel of prematurity and said, "bring it on, we want her, she's ours, we're keeping her."

I definitely feel I rose to the occasion. Our extraordinary circumstances brought out the very best in me. It sets the bar dauntingly high. There is a difficult balance to be struck between keeping the momentum and harping on the past. Being inspired by where we've been, without being burdened by it.

Looking right now at Bella struggling to learn to walk, what is really the first repercussion we've had to face from her half-baked-ness, I am brought to my knees.

She's working on it and making progress, even with the delays in putting in place a solid plan for physical therapy and play groups. And I've had plenty of time and successes and even some counseling so that I'm not about to start blaming myself again. As I say to her, so many times a day, it is not a tragedy.

What really gets me is the giddy, carefree enthusiasm she puts into her struggle. I don't ever want her to lose that.

Jan 20 2005

lotto

I don't generally play the lotto. I understand the laws of probability. And besides, the corner store has already produced a millionaire, what are the chances it could happen again?

Sunday morning I ran down to the corner to get some cash before we went out. I took out $60 from the cash machine and on a whim decided to buy a bottle of water. As I handed the cashier $20 for my $0.89 bottle of water, I noticed I only had one more $20 left in my hand. So I ran to the cash machine where my $20 was just hanging out.

It just HAD to be my lucky day. So I bought a $1 quick pick. And I got good numbers. I have very strong feelings about the quality of numbers and these were good. 3, 10, 15, 27, and 45. With 10 as the Mega number. I tell you quick pick numbers just don't get much better than that.

It seems the beauty of this paritcular group of numbers has to be it's own reward.

Jan 14 2005

Categories

I actually thought about creating categories today. So that I could file away the posts into neat little spots. Then it dawned on me... I only write about the baby.

Could it be that there is nothing in my world but the child, and occasional mention of my husband?

Actually, there is quite a lot going on in our little world with work these days, but I've found it's best not to mention the work, the clients, the coworkers, etc. for obvious reasons.

Today the sun is shining, not tentatively, but gloriously. The sparkles on the water of Monterey Bay are phenomenal. Today, I went to weight watchers and found out that after a month of eating holiday treats and all the white bread in the state of Minnesota, I lost one pound. Actually, the last time I went to a meeting 12/16/05, I was up 0.6 lbs, and today I was down 1.6 lbs.

Somehow lethargy and indulgence paid off.

Perhaps I should start a new category, on weight loss, so that someday I can start a cult, and charge the masses $10 a week to find out how lethargy and indulgence can pay off for them.

Speaking of which, the new food pyramid came out. The sugar lobbyists are not pleased. No doubt the transfat pushers aren't either. The shocking revelation made to America within the new pyramid: eat less, move more. Eat less processed food. Eat more plant food, whole grain, low fat dairy.

Sometimes I wonder, if the average person actually knows what processed food really is. Convenience food. Boxed food. If you don't have to peel it or wash it... it's processed. It's not just hotdogs, man. It's crackers, cereal, bread...

It's not that carbs are bad for you. The French eat tons of white bread, I mean French bread, only there it’s called bread. And the cheese! Don’t forget the cheese. You, too could eat cheese all day (barring lactose intolerance) if you had to walk or ride a bike to get to the store to purchase it.

And me? Me and my 12 lb. weight loss? Am I French? Do I ride a bike? Do I eat processed food?

That is my secret. The secret of my lethargy and indulgence. And to find that out, you will have to pay.

Jan 07 2005

The City

Sitting in a coffee place near Moscone in downtown San Francisc. Working. Waiting and working. Long story.

The man sitting across from me has aviator shades on, on a cloudy rainy SF winter day. He also has on a Hooters hat and a camp shirt made up of tiny Playboy Magazine covers.

I had to move away from the corner I had settled into. It turns out there was a homeless man sitting near me and he must have TB, because he sounded like he was coughing up a lung. Only in San Francisco can you pay $4 for a cup of coffee only to contract TB from the wretched huddled masses.

He was writing feverishly on napkins with a blue ballpoint pen, in a very "A Beautiful Mind" kind of way. An anarchist's cookbook, masterpiece or gibberish, I'm not sure. Mental illness aside, at least the guy had enough sense to come in out of the rain.