Yes I'm late on the post about Christmas cheer. I blame the hives, the teeth, the moldy wall. Deal. Until then enjoy the narcissistic reflection on 2006.
Stolen from Shannon.
1. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?Ate sushi
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?Can’t really say, as I don’t know where I recorded them if I did make them. Will I make some for this year? Yes
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? You mean, besides me? Yes. Our lives are fuller for all the new little ones. I only wish there were two very important ladies who could have joined us in the birth club this year. Soon, though- for both of them I hope.
4. Did anyone close to you die? Thankfully, no. Miss Princess, my Father-in-law’s yorkie did leave us for the great doggy playground in the sky. She was a good dog and we miss her.
5. What countries did you visit? Not a single one. Mark went to England.
6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006? More patience, more sleep. Also, wine.
7. What dates from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? January 13th-when we told Ethan he’d be having a baby brother. May 11th- Ian’s birthday. Mid-September when we went to visit Gramma and she got to hold Ian for the first time.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Giving birth, surviving those first two months of Ian’s life, letting go of some things I had to realize I just couldn’t change.
9. What was your biggest failure? Failing to carry Ian to term. Letting my own insecurities and hurt feelings get in the way of friendship.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Pre-term labor, worsening asthma and the infamous foot mangled by the back door.
11. What was the best thing you bought? Ethan’s toy kitchen.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? My brother, Tom, for joining the biker group that protects soldier’s families from the protesting a-holes at funerals. My brother, Adrian, for facing up to a difficult situation and not beating himself up for it.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?My former sister-in-law and her family. Blegh- enough said.
14. Where did most of your money go? Baby stuff, home repairs, hospital bills
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? 7lbs 8 ounces, 19(HA RIGHT- they measured wrong) inches.
16. What song will always remind you of 2005? Nickelback:"Savin' Me"
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? overall, happier
b) thinner or fatter? Thinner!
c) richer or poorer? About the same finiancially but much richer in relationships and family
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?writing
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?Worrying about things I can’t change.
20. How did you spend Christmas?At home with Mark, the boys, Mamma and Dad. Getting hives ( ugh), cooking good food, sleeping in, and watching Ethan go spastic from joy.
21. What was your favorite TV program? "Battlestar Galactica", "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip": both because of EXCELLENT writing. I wish I had a thousandth of the talent those writers have
22. What did you want and get?A healthy baby boy
23. What did you want and not get?I can’t think of anything personally
24. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?I turned 31 and I watched Ethan and Mark make a cake for me. Ethan rubbed my belly for the first time and said “Goodnight baby brother”
25. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?A new little baby for two sets of close friends. Having my Pappa meet the great-grandson I named for him.
26. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006?Maternity/nursing comfortable. Puke covered might be a good description as well.
27. What kept you sane?Mark. Good music. Baby belly laughs.
28. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006. Friends love you no matter what, but sometimes they are uncomfortably human.
29. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.”I have every reason to be annoyed but secretly I’m hoping I’m just paranoid.” (Hear the song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yX6ERLV-_Ek&NR )
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Merry Mynocks to You!
Mamma and Dad are on their way here and we'll be busy baking cookies, spoiling babies, and messing up the house for the next few days. So I'm taking these few stolen moments (I ran out of gift wrap- that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!) to post these pictures of my Christmas elves. 
Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah!
Monday, December 18, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Center or Forward?
When we found out that Ian was going to be Ian and not some never–agreed-upon girl’s name, we joked that we’d have a new point guard and small forward for the UK basketball team.
We seem to have grossly underestimated the “grow-like-weeds” genes in the family. I’ve already mentioned how Ian is in the 75% for height and at 7 months completely fills out the length of a 9 month sleeper. Well big brother didn’t want to be outdone.
Ethan went for his 4 year check-up. He is 43.5 inches tall and weighs 37lbs. That’s 99% for height and 50-75% for weight. This from the child who was in the 10% for weight at birth. He refused to cooperate for the hearing or vision checks, but we really had no concerns in those areas anyway. He had to get 4 shots ( 3 boosters and a flu shot) and boy did he scream.
As a reward he got to have strawberry ice cream with sprinkles on top.
“I like ice cream, Mamma. I don’t like shots.”
We seem to have grossly underestimated the “grow-like-weeds” genes in the family. I’ve already mentioned how Ian is in the 75% for height and at 7 months completely fills out the length of a 9 month sleeper. Well big brother didn’t want to be outdone.
Ethan went for his 4 year check-up. He is 43.5 inches tall and weighs 37lbs. That’s 99% for height and 50-75% for weight. This from the child who was in the 10% for weight at birth. He refused to cooperate for the hearing or vision checks, but we really had no concerns in those areas anyway. He had to get 4 shots ( 3 boosters and a flu shot) and boy did he scream.
As a reward he got to have strawberry ice cream with sprinkles on top.
“I like ice cream, Mamma. I don’t like shots.”
Monday, December 11, 2006
Seven Months of Sniggett
Apparently all Ian wanted for Christmas was a tooth. I’m officially the most clueless mother ever.
Ethan got his first tooth the weekend of Mark and mine’s fourth anniversary. He was almost 8 months old. We dropped him off to stay with Shannon and Ernie while we went to dinner. I told Shannon he’d been acting like he was teething for, oh, 4 months, and that he was sure to be cranky. When we picked him up that night Shannon gave me that look she has that says: “I’m trying very hard to be polite and not call you a flaming idiot. But, really? You’re stupid.” Ethan had a tooth all the way through the gum with another well on its way. I thought nothing could possibly top that.
Yeah right. Less than 4 hours after telling my mother “Yeah he’s been cranky but I have no idea why, there’s not even a sign of a tooth in his mouth”, Ian bit me with his brand new tooth.
Here’s my stupid sign.
In other seven-month-old news, Ian likes to roll. Sure he rolled for his great aunt for the first time way back in September, but that was more of a “Hey look what I can do!” affair. Now he rolls everywhere. He even tries to pull himself forward by gripping the carpet fibers and pulling.
He doesn’t sleep. Ever. Well, maybe for 3 or 4 hours at a time, but certainly not through the night. That would be fascist. Ask him.
Ian loves bananas (IN A JAR) (don’t ask, inside joke), hates peaches and rice cereal and will tolerate sweet potatoes and oatmeal. Most nights he just spits all the “solid” food back at me. It’s ok, it’s not like he needs more calories. He’s growing out of his nine month sized sleepers. Yes, the NINE MONTH SIZES. He’s long, with a big head. Maybe he’s a Martian after-all.
We still call him Snigget, but if that wears off I have a back up nickname. After finding him trying to chew on the power cables for the Christmas tree, I thought “Mynock” was a great name. Only problem is, I don’t think they have teeth.
Ethan got his first tooth the weekend of Mark and mine’s fourth anniversary. He was almost 8 months old. We dropped him off to stay with Shannon and Ernie while we went to dinner. I told Shannon he’d been acting like he was teething for, oh, 4 months, and that he was sure to be cranky. When we picked him up that night Shannon gave me that look she has that says: “I’m trying very hard to be polite and not call you a flaming idiot. But, really? You’re stupid.” Ethan had a tooth all the way through the gum with another well on its way. I thought nothing could possibly top that.
Yeah right. Less than 4 hours after telling my mother “Yeah he’s been cranky but I have no idea why, there’s not even a sign of a tooth in his mouth”, Ian bit me with his brand new tooth.
Here’s my stupid sign.
In other seven-month-old news, Ian likes to roll. Sure he rolled for his great aunt for the first time way back in September, but that was more of a “Hey look what I can do!” affair. Now he rolls everywhere. He even tries to pull himself forward by gripping the carpet fibers and pulling.
He doesn’t sleep. Ever. Well, maybe for 3 or 4 hours at a time, but certainly not through the night. That would be fascist. Ask him.
Ian loves bananas (IN A JAR) (don’t ask, inside joke), hates peaches and rice cereal and will tolerate sweet potatoes and oatmeal. Most nights he just spits all the “solid” food back at me. It’s ok, it’s not like he needs more calories. He’s growing out of his nine month sized sleepers. Yes, the NINE MONTH SIZES. He’s long, with a big head. Maybe he’s a Martian after-all.
We still call him Snigget, but if that wears off I have a back up nickname. After finding him trying to chew on the power cables for the Christmas tree, I thought “Mynock” was a great name. Only problem is, I don’t think they have teeth.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Euripides 2006
Anyone who knows me knows that I have a stunning propensity for self-mutilation inflicted by the most mundane objects. This time it was the screen door snapping shut on my ankle and Achilles tendon. Thetis and I have some chattin’ to do in the after-life. I understand the unwillingness to complete submerge your son, but did she have to curse the rest of us with this tender, easily injured, spot?
Anyway, as I hopped about the kitchen trying to curse in languages my son doesn’t speak, Ethan immediately became concerned.
“Oh honey. Oh you have bloods. Oh it looks bad. I think you need to sit down. Why did that door bonk you?”
He helped put away the groceries and helped me hobble to the couch with Ian, where we waited for Mark. Mark, good sport that he is, came home early (that is to say, on time) to help. Once he was home, Daddy had to be subjected to a very long, disjointed, tale about how the door bonked Mommy and Ethan sure did wish Mommy could walk so that he could have a banana. Also, baby brother was screaming a lot, could Daddy make him stop?
Fed with a banana and allowed to run willy-nilly about the house because he knew Mommy couldn’t chase him down, Ethan turned from concern to mockery. At one point he was perfecting an exaggerated stage-limp and moaning about how his owie hurt SO bad and we had better take him to the doctor.
As I hobbled from his room after tucking him into bed Ethan sleepily muttered. “Careful Mommy, don’t let that door bonk you too.”
I tell you, I cannot wait until Ian starts joining in this Greek chorus.
*Euripides
Anyway, as I hopped about the kitchen trying to curse in languages my son doesn’t speak, Ethan immediately became concerned.
“Oh honey. Oh you have bloods. Oh it looks bad. I think you need to sit down. Why did that door bonk you?”
He helped put away the groceries and helped me hobble to the couch with Ian, where we waited for Mark. Mark, good sport that he is, came home early (that is to say, on time) to help. Once he was home, Daddy had to be subjected to a very long, disjointed, tale about how the door bonked Mommy and Ethan sure did wish Mommy could walk so that he could have a banana. Also, baby brother was screaming a lot, could Daddy make him stop?
Fed with a banana and allowed to run willy-nilly about the house because he knew Mommy couldn’t chase him down, Ethan turned from concern to mockery. At one point he was perfecting an exaggerated stage-limp and moaning about how his owie hurt SO bad and we had better take him to the doctor.
As I hobbled from his room after tucking him into bed Ethan sleepily muttered. “Careful Mommy, don’t let that door bonk you too.”
I tell you, I cannot wait until Ian starts joining in this Greek chorus.
*Euripides
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Busted!
In the law enforcement community laughing, happy, uncles are considered prime targets. The dedicated detective who prosecutes this special brand of felonious foe is known as “Ethan Fire-guy”. These are his stories.
We’ve always known that “uncle” Dwayne was a good sport. He’s always good for a laugh and always there to be concerned after you’ve inhaled Kool-aid from laughing so hard. Seriously, when he shows more concern over your turning blue than your own spouse does, THAT is friendship. This visit, no Kool-Aid ( yes she CAN be taught) but I did collapse in a severe asthma attack.
Mark’s Dad has a special drawer of fun things for little boys to play with. Cars, extremely, disturbingly, ow-my-Lord-that-has-to-hurt, flexible GI Joe characters, and handcuffs all inhabit this drawer. Yes I said handcuffs. Sandy helpful pointed out that she wasn’t sure where the key to the handcuffs had been hidden. She helpfully pointed this out after Uncle Dwayne had been unlawfully detained.
Once the joy of arresting and releasing Dwayne had worn off, Ethan arrested the rest of the family. Daddy is apparently a repeat offender and lucky that the DA didn’t throw the book at him. I told him he shouldn’t have made the GI Joe man into a pretzel.
Special thanks to Dwayne for being.. well.. Dwayne.
(No key was required, the handcuffs have a handy release switch. Also, we all have “ligature marks” from the cuffs, because Agent Ethan is into roughing up the suspects.)
We’ve always known that “uncle” Dwayne was a good sport. He’s always good for a laugh and always there to be concerned after you’ve inhaled Kool-aid from laughing so hard. Seriously, when he shows more concern over your turning blue than your own spouse does, THAT is friendship. This visit, no Kool-Aid ( yes she CAN be taught) but I did collapse in a severe asthma attack.
Mark’s Dad has a special drawer of fun things for little boys to play with. Cars, extremely, disturbingly, ow-my-Lord-that-has-to-hurt, flexible GI Joe characters, and handcuffs all inhabit this drawer. Yes I said handcuffs. Sandy helpful pointed out that she wasn’t sure where the key to the handcuffs had been hidden. She helpfully pointed this out after Uncle Dwayne had been unlawfully detained.
Once the joy of arresting and releasing Dwayne had worn off, Ethan arrested the rest of the family. Daddy is apparently a repeat offender and lucky that the DA didn’t throw the book at him. I told him he shouldn’t have made the GI Joe man into a pretzel.
Special thanks to Dwayne for being.. well.. Dwayne.
(No key was required, the handcuffs have a handy release switch. Also, we all have “ligature marks” from the cuffs, because Agent Ethan is into roughing up the suspects.)
Monday, November 20, 2006
Nuance
“Ethan Harrison I told you to stop punching that balloon!”
“I not punching it Mamma, I’m slapping it.”
“I not punching it Mamma, I’m slapping it.”
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Ian's 6 month visit
Before I update you on gi-normous head boy and his amazing growth statistics, I’d like to remind everyone that it is Prematurity Awareness month. Prematurity is the leading cause of infant death in the United States and the rates of premature birth go up every year. Chances are you know a preemie. Actually, chances are 100% you know a preemie if you are reading this site, since I’m a preemie and so is Ian! I’d tell you to go out and hug a preemie today, but it’s also RSV season and we preemie parents are a bit paranoid of you germ-ridden huggy types.
So, Ian Kenneth continues to be the biggest preemie EVER ( ok not really, but it amuses me to tell him that). He weighs 17.5lbs (50%), is 27.5 inches long (75%) and has a really big head (90%). The doctor, with whom he LOVES to flirt, says we’ll wait on his blocked tear duct and see if it opens up on its own by one year of age. She was glad to hear he had mastered rolling back to front and mentioned that back to front rolling is considered “the hard way”. Yes, he LIKES doing things the hard way. She noted that he wasn’t sitting, supported or otherwise, on his own yet, but said balancing a head that big had to be hard. (GI-NORMOUS MELON) He received a flu shot, three vaccines and a clean bill of health.
Oh, and in case you haven’t heard, Ian loves bananas. I finally gave up trying to shove cereal down his throat and tried bananas. The first bite he gagged on and spit back at me. The second he swallowed. Then he ate the whole jar. The next night he lunged for the spoon and drummed his heels against the chair with spastic glee. He ate the entire jar that night too. He tried peaches on Wednesday night. They made his eyes cross and his lips pucker and he only ate half the jar.
And in case you’re wondering: no, eating solid foods does not make him sleep any better.
So, Ian Kenneth continues to be the biggest preemie EVER ( ok not really, but it amuses me to tell him that). He weighs 17.5lbs (50%), is 27.5 inches long (75%) and has a really big head (90%). The doctor, with whom he LOVES to flirt, says we’ll wait on his blocked tear duct and see if it opens up on its own by one year of age. She was glad to hear he had mastered rolling back to front and mentioned that back to front rolling is considered “the hard way”. Yes, he LIKES doing things the hard way. She noted that he wasn’t sitting, supported or otherwise, on his own yet, but said balancing a head that big had to be hard. (GI-NORMOUS MELON) He received a flu shot, three vaccines and a clean bill of health.
Oh, and in case you haven’t heard, Ian loves bananas. I finally gave up trying to shove cereal down his throat and tried bananas. The first bite he gagged on and spit back at me. The second he swallowed. Then he ate the whole jar. The next night he lunged for the spoon and drummed his heels against the chair with spastic glee. He ate the entire jar that night too. He tried peaches on Wednesday night. They made his eyes cross and his lips pucker and he only ate half the jar.
And in case you’re wondering: no, eating solid foods does not make him sleep any better.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Ian 6 months
Well my little man is 6 months old today. Half a year after being born 4 weeks early it’s hard to believe he wasn’t always a part of our lives. Sleep deprivation affects the memory first, it seems.
Ian doesn’t sleep through the night even when he feels well and he hasn’t really felt well in several weeks. Right now he’s battling a, thankfully, weaker version of the flu that the rest of the family has had. He has, though, gotten much better about soothing himself to sleep. Several times recently I have laid him down in his crib when he is just barely dozing or just a little drowsy and come back fifteen minutes later to find him sound asleep.
He still only rolls in one direction, and wow is that ever annoying. He gets stuck on his tummy and rocks back and forth trying to get back on his back, but all he does is make himself mad. There have been times where I have been convinced he’s going to dislocate a shoulder the way he’s contorting. I’m not worried, though. I think he’ll figure it out about the time he’s ready for kindergarten.
Speaking of his unique time schedule, Ian hasn’t started solid food yet. I have tried to give him rice cereal several times. What he doesn’t choke and gag on he spits back at me. I think one time a bit of it did get in his stomach. I think this because when he vomited ten minute s later it was chunkier than normal. Yummy, huh?
No teeth in evidence yet, though he does drool and gnaw on anything he can get his hands on. His eyes are still a unique mixture of green, brown, and blue. He still has the hyper-sensitive skin that breaks out if anything brushes against him. He loves to belly laugh at the Wiggles. Ian’s favorite person in the world, despite what his Daddy says, is his brother Ethan. Ethan is the source of much hilarity in Ian’s world.
Happy 6 month day, little sniggett.
Ian doesn’t sleep through the night even when he feels well and he hasn’t really felt well in several weeks. Right now he’s battling a, thankfully, weaker version of the flu that the rest of the family has had. He has, though, gotten much better about soothing himself to sleep. Several times recently I have laid him down in his crib when he is just barely dozing or just a little drowsy and come back fifteen minutes later to find him sound asleep.
He still only rolls in one direction, and wow is that ever annoying. He gets stuck on his tummy and rocks back and forth trying to get back on his back, but all he does is make himself mad. There have been times where I have been convinced he’s going to dislocate a shoulder the way he’s contorting. I’m not worried, though. I think he’ll figure it out about the time he’s ready for kindergarten.
Speaking of his unique time schedule, Ian hasn’t started solid food yet. I have tried to give him rice cereal several times. What he doesn’t choke and gag on he spits back at me. I think one time a bit of it did get in his stomach. I think this because when he vomited ten minute s later it was chunkier than normal. Yummy, huh?
No teeth in evidence yet, though he does drool and gnaw on anything he can get his hands on. His eyes are still a unique mixture of green, brown, and blue. He still has the hyper-sensitive skin that breaks out if anything brushes against him. He loves to belly laugh at the Wiggles. Ian’s favorite person in the world, despite what his Daddy says, is his brother Ethan. Ethan is the source of much hilarity in Ian’s world.
Happy 6 month day, little sniggett.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
The Pajama Birthday
4am 11/3/2002: my water breaks
4am 11/3/2006: Ethan wakes us up with news that he has wet the bed.
It was a fitting start to Ethan’s 4th birthday. The day began with a wet bed and a grumpy birthday boy and ended with fevers and sore throats.
We went at noon to meet Mark, in Fairfax, for lunch. Ethan refused to eat his pizza or his french fries but the real sign that he wasn’t feeling well was when he refused to drink his chocolate milk. By the time the boys and I returned home, Ethan was acting sleepy and running a fever of 101.5 degrees.
By 8pm he was obviously sick and I had a bad cough and laryngitis. Ian, not to be outdone, was fussing and refluxing constantly.
Saturday, the day we had set aside for Ethan’s party, became “The Pajama Birthday party” because only Mark ever managed to change out of his pajamas. (Though Ian and I changed pajamas several times due to his constant puking.)
Ethan loves his new toy kitchen, his new train set (thanks Nana), his computer game (thanks Uncle Brett and Aunt Elizabeth) and his new car and game (thanks Sarino family).
He did perk up enough to eat the “yellow cake with chocolate icing and strawberry ice cream- like Boots eats” that he had been requesting all week.
All in all, not the best birthday ever, but he loves his new toys and getting to spend quality snugglin’ time with my long legged four old boy is almost worth being so sick.
4am 11/3/2006: Ethan wakes us up with news that he has wet the bed.
It was a fitting start to Ethan’s 4th birthday. The day began with a wet bed and a grumpy birthday boy and ended with fevers and sore throats.
We went at noon to meet Mark, in Fairfax, for lunch. Ethan refused to eat his pizza or his french fries but the real sign that he wasn’t feeling well was when he refused to drink his chocolate milk. By the time the boys and I returned home, Ethan was acting sleepy and running a fever of 101.5 degrees.
By 8pm he was obviously sick and I had a bad cough and laryngitis. Ian, not to be outdone, was fussing and refluxing constantly.
Saturday, the day we had set aside for Ethan’s party, became “The Pajama Birthday party” because only Mark ever managed to change out of his pajamas. (Though Ian and I changed pajamas several times due to his constant puking.)
Ethan loves his new toy kitchen, his new train set (thanks Nana), his computer game (thanks Uncle Brett and Aunt Elizabeth) and his new car and game (thanks Sarino family).
He did perk up enough to eat the “yellow cake with chocolate icing and strawberry ice cream- like Boots eats” that he had been requesting all week.
All in all, not the best birthday ever, but he loves his new toys and getting to spend quality snugglin’ time with my long legged four old boy is almost worth being so sick.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Arr, Mateys!
Ethan was a pirate this year for Halloween. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who has been in his presence for, oh, the last YEAR. He loves all things pirates right now. That’s fine, his father has always been a scruffy looking space pirate want-to-be. It’s why I love him.
Ethan really “got” the idea of trick or treating this year. He had lots of fun and only ran into the street once. Progress! We went around with the “horde” that had attended our Halloween party. Ian’s toes got cold after a bit, so he and I took a break while Mark and Ethan finished scoping out the candy booty.
He had a “most excellent haul”. Even if I give him three pieces a day, I think he’ll be eating Halloween candy until next Halloween. Now to keep him from trying to feed it to Ian…
Oh, and the parrot? Random neighbor’s pet bird. It sort of freaked out all the kids, but made for a cool photo.
Click on the picture for more pirate adventures shot. My person favorite is “exhausted pirate boy takes lawn nap”.
Ethan really “got” the idea of trick or treating this year. He had lots of fun and only ran into the street once. Progress! We went around with the “horde” that had attended our Halloween party. Ian’s toes got cold after a bit, so he and I took a break while Mark and Ethan finished scoping out the candy booty.
He had a “most excellent haul”. Even if I give him three pieces a day, I think he’ll be eating Halloween candy until next Halloween. Now to keep him from trying to feed it to Ian…
Oh, and the parrot? Random neighbor’s pet bird. It sort of freaked out all the kids, but made for a cool photo.
Click on the picture for more pirate adventures shot. My person favorite is “exhausted pirate boy takes lawn nap”.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Spooky eats
Click on this picture for more pictures of the finished cookies and the decorated house. I'll post party pictures later.
The broom cookies were a huge hit. The bones didn't turn out so great, but I love how the bat cookies looked. We had lots of leftovers, but gave them all away to departing guests and to Mark's co-workers.
UPDATE: You may have to click backwards in the photostream to get to all the photos. Or you can go to this link to start at the beginning: http://www.flickr.com/photos/redamy/285845406/in/photostream/
Monday, October 30, 2006
Gone batty
I’ve officially gone batty. My Susie-homemaker dreams have way over-extended my meager home-ec abilities. We’re hosting a Halloween party for the neighborhood kids. I volunteered to be in charge of the cookies.
I have lots of cookie recipes and ideas ripped out of several magazines. The magazine calls for cutting out the bat shapes with a cookie cutter. Now who in the world has a bat shaped cookie cutter. Oh, yeah, SANE people.
Not me. I drew a bat ( ok a very bad bat profile) and cut 24 bats out by hand.
Yes I am really that insane. More pictures of my insanity to follow.
I have lots of cookie recipes and ideas ripped out of several magazines. The magazine calls for cutting out the bat shapes with a cookie cutter. Now who in the world has a bat shaped cookie cutter. Oh, yeah, SANE people.
Not me. I drew a bat ( ok a very bad bat profile) and cut 24 bats out by hand.
Yes I am really that insane. More pictures of my insanity to follow.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
What? 5 months you say?
Ok, I’m very late on Ian’s 5 month post. I could post a whole page of excuses, but the real reason is probably denial. How can my “wee bairn” be 5 months old already? That little guy rolling over on the floor, holding his head up and blowing raspberries is MY baby? No!
Between his 4th and 5th month milestones Ian took his first plane ride. He met a whole host of family and was spoiled rotten. He also had his first long separation from his Daddy.
Speaking of Daddy, Ian has really started interacting with Mark. He coos when Mark comes home from work, grins big drooly grins when he happen sto notice Mark in the room, and belly laughs at Mark’s playing with Ethan.
Ian has slept through the night several times now, but not regularly enough to even call it a common occurrence. He doesn’t have a “schedule” and rarely conforms to any expectation, other than my grudging acknowledgment that yes, the 16lb (approx.) son is the real man in charge around here.
In a week we’ll be celebrating Halloween. Ian will be dressed up, sort of. Mostly he’ll get to giggle as Ethan transforms into a pirate and gets high on sugar.
Sorry this is so late, little boy. It’s all your fault. I’m having too much fun snuggling with you and rolling you back over to actually sit down and share my thoughts with anyone else.
Between his 4th and 5th month milestones Ian took his first plane ride. He met a whole host of family and was spoiled rotten. He also had his first long separation from his Daddy.
Speaking of Daddy, Ian has really started interacting with Mark. He coos when Mark comes home from work, grins big drooly grins when he happen sto notice Mark in the room, and belly laughs at Mark’s playing with Ethan.
Ian has slept through the night several times now, but not regularly enough to even call it a common occurrence. He doesn’t have a “schedule” and rarely conforms to any expectation, other than my grudging acknowledgment that yes, the 16lb (approx.) son is the real man in charge around here.
In a week we’ll be celebrating Halloween. Ian will be dressed up, sort of. Mostly he’ll get to giggle as Ethan transforms into a pirate and gets high on sugar.
Sorry this is so late, little boy. It’s all your fault. I’m having too much fun snuggling with you and rolling you back over to actually sit down and share my thoughts with anyone else.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Ethan Nature Boy
My Gramma, as previously mentioned, lives in the “forest”. Well, it’s actually a wooded lot on Kentucky Lake, but to city-boy Ethan, it’s the deepest darkest forest. Thankfully, the deepest darkest forest is inhabited by very cool animals. (And also lots of spiders, but we’ll refrain from speaking of those in case Eddie is reading this.)
The first morning at Gramma’s we woke up before anyone else (of course) and were startled to find a doe and her fawn hanging out on Gramma’s front porch. Apparently the fawn found the unplanted plants on the porch to be too much to resist. His mother was at the corner of the walkway and I’m sure she was using amazing deer-mother telepathic skills to tell him “Get off those people’s porch. You can’t just walk up and eat things right off humans’ porches. You have no idea where they’ve been!”
Later that day, after the monsoon had ceased for an hour or so, Granny came on a walk with us. We found a tiny little box turtle and brought him home, hoping he would come out of his shell. He never did, so we put him back outside, where he probably drowned in the 4 inches of rain we got that afternoon.
Gramma, being the grandmother to 8 grandchildren and, now, 3 great-grandchildren, is not hampered by a little Noah-eqsue flood when it comes to entertaining children. She had a box of toys all ready to be explored by Ethan’s disturbingly active imagination. Granny also supplied her share of toys and the Aunts all brought in toys as well.
Well, except for Aunt Tennie- she brought her dog. Poor Jazz is probably still sleeping off all the exercise he received while at Gramma’s house. Ethan chased, petted, tickled and generally harassed at least 15 pounds off that little pug dog.
Uncle Eldon brought himself- and that was quite enough entertainment. Uncle Eldon, who is actually Ethan’s great-great-uncle, played with play-doh and earned himself sainthood status just by putting up with the endless round of questions that come out of my eldest son’s mouth. Ethan was sad when “That big kid” had to go home.
Sunday morning we went walking again and Ethan said “Look Mamma, my turtle’s all growed up.” Indeed it had- and changed species as well. That cold Kentucky rain has amazing powers. Ethan’s box turtle from Saturday, no bigger than your thumb, had metamorphosed into a dinner plate sized snapping turtle. We did not take that turtle home.
When the sun went down and the aunts and uncles, deer and turtles had all gone home we amused Ethan with records played on the victrola. He, of course, had never seen a record, much less a victrola. Since we’ve been home he’s asked me several times why we don’t have a record player. I tell him we’re poor city folk and have to make do with CD-Rom drives on the computer.
Thanks to all the family who helped entertain my rambunctious little man. Special thanks to Uncle Eldon for having us over to his house to play with his adorable grand-daughters, and to “Aunt” Susie for her stamina- and for teaching Ethan how to pee in the lake.
We miss everyone very much. Ethan keeps asking who is coming to visit him today.
The first morning at Gramma’s we woke up before anyone else (of course) and were startled to find a doe and her fawn hanging out on Gramma’s front porch. Apparently the fawn found the unplanted plants on the porch to be too much to resist. His mother was at the corner of the walkway and I’m sure she was using amazing deer-mother telepathic skills to tell him “Get off those people’s porch. You can’t just walk up and eat things right off humans’ porches. You have no idea where they’ve been!”
Later that day, after the monsoon had ceased for an hour or so, Granny came on a walk with us. We found a tiny little box turtle and brought him home, hoping he would come out of his shell. He never did, so we put him back outside, where he probably drowned in the 4 inches of rain we got that afternoon.
Gramma, being the grandmother to 8 grandchildren and, now, 3 great-grandchildren, is not hampered by a little Noah-eqsue flood when it comes to entertaining children. She had a box of toys all ready to be explored by Ethan’s disturbingly active imagination. Granny also supplied her share of toys and the Aunts all brought in toys as well.
Well, except for Aunt Tennie- she brought her dog. Poor Jazz is probably still sleeping off all the exercise he received while at Gramma’s house. Ethan chased, petted, tickled and generally harassed at least 15 pounds off that little pug dog.
Uncle Eldon brought himself- and that was quite enough entertainment. Uncle Eldon, who is actually Ethan’s great-great-uncle, played with play-doh and earned himself sainthood status just by putting up with the endless round of questions that come out of my eldest son’s mouth. Ethan was sad when “That big kid” had to go home.
Sunday morning we went walking again and Ethan said “Look Mamma, my turtle’s all growed up.” Indeed it had- and changed species as well. That cold Kentucky rain has amazing powers. Ethan’s box turtle from Saturday, no bigger than your thumb, had metamorphosed into a dinner plate sized snapping turtle. We did not take that turtle home.
When the sun went down and the aunts and uncles, deer and turtles had all gone home we amused Ethan with records played on the victrola. He, of course, had never seen a record, much less a victrola. Since we’ve been home he’s asked me several times why we don’t have a record player. I tell him we’re poor city folk and have to make do with CD-Rom drives on the computer.
Thanks to all the family who helped entertain my rambunctious little man. Special thanks to Uncle Eldon for having us over to his house to play with his adorable grand-daughters, and to “Aunt” Susie for her stamina- and for teaching Ethan how to pee in the lake.
We miss everyone very much. Ethan keeps asking who is coming to visit him today.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
The Kentucky Trip-Ian's bit
My family is populated by opinionated, stubborn, loving, but most of all, talkative, women. Oh there are plenty of men to round out the gatherings and gives us people to cook for, but my mother’s family is most definitely matriarchal. I’m sure in the “olden days” the women of the Owen/Wade/Aldridge clans would sit around and chat while working on a quilt. Today we migrate towards Gramma’s dining room table and a deck of cards. Talking is just easier when your hands are busy shuffling a few decks and your mind is trying to remember the rules of the latest game that Aunt Tennie has found.
Ian, with his love of the middle of a table- any table will do as long as it is hard and has a great big light above it searing his little green/hazel/brown eyes- tended to interrupt our card games this trip. Tennie soon discovered, however, that Gramma’s chandelier makes the perfect hanging place for a wind chime and that wind chimes are glorious entertainment to a 4.5 month old baby. When he wasn’t lying smack dab in the middle of the table he was being held, cuddled, rocked, and generally spoiled rotten.
Uncle Eldon is convinced I don’t feed Ian at all. Aunt Tennie is convinced I’m feeding him the special puppy chow for “large babies”. (It’s not that he’s fat, it’s just that baby Eliza is so femininely petite. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)
Just to prove that he really is a paragon of baby correctness (and that his mother is a paranoid freak), Ian rolled over three times while we were at Gramma’s house. I’d give you more details, but I missed it all three times. Yeah, that’s fair. Also, he hasn’t done it since.
Before you ask, there are no pictures of Gramma holding Ian because she was invariably rocking him to sleep. I heard her mutter on more than one occasion that I was abusing the poor baby because I didn’t have a good rocker with a good squeak to it.
Yeah, he looks abused, doesn’t he?
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Visiting with Autumn
Ethan has an interesting, self-made, version of the “How do we get to Grandma’s house” rhyme.
First we ride in a car to the airport, then we take a bus to the terminal, then we take an airplane, then we take a car ride over the river, through the hills, over the lakes and into the forest. And that is what we did last week. For the rest of the week I’ll be posting snippets about our trip and pictures of the grand adventure.
First stop: “the barrel of crack” to meet “Aunt” Elizabeth (who is really Ethan’s godmother) and Miss Autumn. Miss Autumn is my three-year-old goddaughter and the most gorgeous three-year-old girl on the planet.
Don’t believe me?
Check out the blond cuteness.
Oh- and yes we are fairly sure that having Ethan in a UK outfit while sitting in a UT decorated chair is inviting the apocolypse.
First we ride in a car to the airport, then we take a bus to the terminal, then we take an airplane, then we take a car ride over the river, through the hills, over the lakes and into the forest. And that is what we did last week. For the rest of the week I’ll be posting snippets about our trip and pictures of the grand adventure.
First stop: “the barrel of crack” to meet “Aunt” Elizabeth (who is really Ethan’s godmother) and Miss Autumn. Miss Autumn is my three-year-old goddaughter and the most gorgeous three-year-old girl on the planet.
Don’t believe me?
Check out the blond cuteness.
Oh- and yes we are fairly sure that having Ethan in a UK outfit while sitting in a UT decorated chair is inviting the apocolypse.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Ian's 4 month visit
Ian weighs 15lbs 8 ounces (50%), is 26 inches long (75%) and has a head circumference of 44cm (90%). He doesn’t have a growth curve so much as a growth stair-step ladder he’s on.
Except for his lingering skin issues and one clogged tear duct he is the “picture of health”. The doctor wants him to keep taking his Zantac ( for reflux) twice a day at .7ml per dose. She said his head control issues are probably just due to his head being heavier than the rest of him (a common thing for preemies, even late-term preemies) and some latent weakness. She recommended increasing his tummy time during the day.
He had five shots today and I’m not sure who cried harder- Ian or Ethan.
Except for his lingering skin issues and one clogged tear duct he is the “picture of health”. The doctor wants him to keep taking his Zantac ( for reflux) twice a day at .7ml per dose. She said his head control issues are probably just due to his head being heavier than the rest of him (a common thing for preemies, even late-term preemies) and some latent weakness. She recommended increasing his tummy time during the day.
He had five shots today and I’m not sure who cried harder- Ian or Ethan.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Take this job and drill it
I’ve been joking for the past few months that I’ve been employed at the Hotel California. I can “check out” but I can never leave. Well I’ve finally found a way out and I’m happy to announce that I’m now officially a “homemaker”. Though, considering the issues we’ve had with potty training, maybe my title should be “custodial engineer”.
How am I celebrating my first day of “stay at home” mom-ness?
Why, having a root canal, of course.
How am I celebrating my first day of “stay at home” mom-ness?
Why, having a root canal, of course.
Monday, September 11, 2006
5 Years for 4 Months
I’ve been having a debate with myself for the past few weeks. Ian is 4 months old today and I try to post monthly updates on this site. But today is also the 5th anniversary of 9/11 and I really feel like I should have some sort of commemoration or memories post.
The more I think about those hours and days following the terror attacks, the more I realize that this post really does need to be about Ian and Ethan.
Five years ago I woke early to fight traffic all the way to Capitol Hill. This morning I woke up early after Ian gifted me with 7 hours of sleep last night. I nursed him back to sleep and snuggled down in the bed with him.
Five years ago I was debating with Kassy and Anne about who would go downstairs to get breakfast. This morning Ethan helped me make muffins.
Five years ago every TV in the Senator’s office was turned to CNN or FOX. This morning the TV was tuned to Franklin and the Wiggles.
9/11/01 was a bright sunny day- the perfect day in DC. 9/11/06 has dawned dreary and grey, as if the sky itself weeps with remembrance.
9/11 was a sobering day for me. I’d only been on Capitol Hill for 5 months. I was still a “junior staffer” and the ways and workings of the legislative branch of our government were still somewhat mystifying. The terror quotient of 9/11 didn’t come until it was all over. We were too confused, in the dark, and busy to be scared during the attacks. Post- traumatic stress syndrome probably best describes the crash of emotions I, we all, went through following that sunny September Day.
Five years ago I was undergoing treatment for endometriosis. We weren’t even sure we could have a baby. Financially we weren’t ready for a baby. We had just signed a lease on a rental house in Bowie and we were looking forward to leaving our one room apartment in Baltimore. Mark had just started at Mythic and the future was by no means certain or even secure.
Five years later we have not one but two gorgeous, happy, healthy boys. We own our own home. I can look back with pride on my time with the Senator. Mark is excelling at his career. Our personal finances are in order, the outlook promising.
That is how 9/11 should be remembered. Pause to reflect on those friends and loved ones lost and remember the sadness and uncertainty of those days. Then think about all the wonderful things that have occurred in those five years. The children born, the sunny days celebrated, the continuation of life. We have not moved on, we have not forgotten, but we have grown.
How better to say: “Terror did not win. We have survived. We did not collapse when the towers did. We did not surrender when the walls of the Pentagon fell.” Those brave men on that plane in Pennsylvania, the very men who might well have saved my life that day, said “Let’s roll.”
We have rolled on.
Happy 4 month birthday Ian.
The more I think about those hours and days following the terror attacks, the more I realize that this post really does need to be about Ian and Ethan.
Five years ago I woke early to fight traffic all the way to Capitol Hill. This morning I woke up early after Ian gifted me with 7 hours of sleep last night. I nursed him back to sleep and snuggled down in the bed with him.
Five years ago I was debating with Kassy and Anne about who would go downstairs to get breakfast. This morning Ethan helped me make muffins.
Five years ago every TV in the Senator’s office was turned to CNN or FOX. This morning the TV was tuned to Franklin and the Wiggles.
9/11/01 was a bright sunny day- the perfect day in DC. 9/11/06 has dawned dreary and grey, as if the sky itself weeps with remembrance.
9/11 was a sobering day for me. I’d only been on Capitol Hill for 5 months. I was still a “junior staffer” and the ways and workings of the legislative branch of our government were still somewhat mystifying. The terror quotient of 9/11 didn’t come until it was all over. We were too confused, in the dark, and busy to be scared during the attacks. Post- traumatic stress syndrome probably best describes the crash of emotions I, we all, went through following that sunny September Day.
Five years ago I was undergoing treatment for endometriosis. We weren’t even sure we could have a baby. Financially we weren’t ready for a baby. We had just signed a lease on a rental house in Bowie and we were looking forward to leaving our one room apartment in Baltimore. Mark had just started at Mythic and the future was by no means certain or even secure.
Five years later we have not one but two gorgeous, happy, healthy boys. We own our own home. I can look back with pride on my time with the Senator. Mark is excelling at his career. Our personal finances are in order, the outlook promising.
That is how 9/11 should be remembered. Pause to reflect on those friends and loved ones lost and remember the sadness and uncertainty of those days. Then think about all the wonderful things that have occurred in those five years. The children born, the sunny days celebrated, the continuation of life. We have not moved on, we have not forgotten, but we have grown.
How better to say: “Terror did not win. We have survived. We did not collapse when the towers did. We did not surrender when the walls of the Pentagon fell.” Those brave men on that plane in Pennsylvania, the very men who might well have saved my life that day, said “Let’s roll.”
We have rolled on.
Happy 4 month birthday Ian.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
The worst kind of pain
There are three areas of your body that you can hurt that create what I like to classify as the "worst kind of pain". This pain isn't necessarily the most intense, but because every single action you take, from breathing, to walking, to simply existing, effects, or is affected by, the pain, it is the worst kind of pain. The three categories of this worst kind of pain are: tooth pain, back pain, and the pain following abdominal surgery.
The five year anniversary of my recovery from abdominal surgery just passed. I think I can wait, oh, 75 more years before repeating THAT lovely experience in wishing for death.
On Friday night I bit into my steak and thought "Hmm, crunchy with a metallic tang. Ahh CRAP" A great huge filling fell out of my upper back molar on my right side. Of course it was Labor Day weekend so I had to suffer until Tuesday before the dentist's office was even open, and then wait until Wednesday for an appointment.
I did a lovely job, according to the dentist with the large soulful dark eyes (What else was I supposed to stare at for an hour?) who is probably a good 15 years younger than I am. Not only did I lose the great big filling ("You really aren't supposed to swallow them". Gee, thanks) but I cracked off the back end of the tooth. Oh- and incidentally totally exposed the great big nerve. But he couldn't just assume that from the x-rays, he had to go and PROBE a bit.
After they scraped me off the ceiling he determined that I needed a root canal and a crown. I told him to pull the tooth. He argued. I argued back. He got very stern ( as stern as a 15 year old Asian boy pretending to be a dentist can be) and explained about bite and jaw position and mentioned the outrageous amounts of money my parents had probably spent giving me nice straight teeth with an aligned bite. Oh, thanks, guilt.
Then, because I'd collapsed in a goo of acquiescence, he did a full exam. The good news is I have no "new" cavities. The bad news is, I have another molar/filling cracked just like this last one probably was. It will have to be replaced. There’s a filling with decay underneath it that has to be removed, drilled, maybe root canaled and then crowned, and a filling that I lost that I wasn't sure I even had.
The grand total? $1700 AFTER insurance. Oh- and that's not counting the bill for the oral surgeon to do the root canal- because the 12 year old said my jaw wouldn't open wide enough for him to risk it.
As for the other of my trifecta of worst kinds of pain? Oh I managed to do that to myself by putting my eldest in "time out". Don't ask for more of an explanation, it is something that "Shall not be mentioned".
And THAT is why Ethan confided to his stuffed animals that "That Mommy is grumpy today".
The five year anniversary of my recovery from abdominal surgery just passed. I think I can wait, oh, 75 more years before repeating THAT lovely experience in wishing for death.
On Friday night I bit into my steak and thought "Hmm, crunchy with a metallic tang. Ahh CRAP" A great huge filling fell out of my upper back molar on my right side. Of course it was Labor Day weekend so I had to suffer until Tuesday before the dentist's office was even open, and then wait until Wednesday for an appointment.
I did a lovely job, according to the dentist with the large soulful dark eyes (What else was I supposed to stare at for an hour?) who is probably a good 15 years younger than I am. Not only did I lose the great big filling ("You really aren't supposed to swallow them". Gee, thanks) but I cracked off the back end of the tooth. Oh- and incidentally totally exposed the great big nerve. But he couldn't just assume that from the x-rays, he had to go and PROBE a bit.
After they scraped me off the ceiling he determined that I needed a root canal and a crown. I told him to pull the tooth. He argued. I argued back. He got very stern ( as stern as a 15 year old Asian boy pretending to be a dentist can be) and explained about bite and jaw position and mentioned the outrageous amounts of money my parents had probably spent giving me nice straight teeth with an aligned bite. Oh, thanks, guilt.
Then, because I'd collapsed in a goo of acquiescence, he did a full exam. The good news is I have no "new" cavities. The bad news is, I have another molar/filling cracked just like this last one probably was. It will have to be replaced. There’s a filling with decay underneath it that has to be removed, drilled, maybe root canaled and then crowned, and a filling that I lost that I wasn't sure I even had.
The grand total? $1700 AFTER insurance. Oh- and that's not counting the bill for the oral surgeon to do the root canal- because the 12 year old said my jaw wouldn't open wide enough for him to risk it.
As for the other of my trifecta of worst kinds of pain? Oh I managed to do that to myself by putting my eldest in "time out". Don't ask for more of an explanation, it is something that "Shall not be mentioned".
And THAT is why Ethan confided to his stuffed animals that "That Mommy is grumpy today".
Friday, September 01, 2006
Rainy Days
This evening an early-season high pressure system is pulling cold air from the North Atlantic that is impacting with the remnants of Hurricane/Tropical Storm/Tropical Depression/Pain in my Butt Ernesto and causing tight pressure gradients that in turn cause high sustained winds with occasionally hurricane force gusts.
In other words, it is a dark and stormy night.
But earlier it was just a cool and rainy day. In my further studies in “How to be the worst parent ever” I let me child play in the rain.
He asked to play in the rain. I was tired of losing at Candyland and he seemed particularly distraught that Daddy wasn’t home yet. So I was “inclined to acquiesce with his request.”
He loved it.
In other words, it is a dark and stormy night.
But earlier it was just a cool and rainy day. In my further studies in “How to be the worst parent ever” I let me child play in the rain.
He asked to play in the rain. I was tired of losing at Candyland and he seemed particularly distraught that Daddy wasn’t home yet. So I was “inclined to acquiesce with his request.”
He loved it.
Friday, August 25, 2006
In my belly
"Look Mamma, a carrot spaceship."
"Cool"
"It has aliens."
"Are they carrot aliens?" (perfectly rational assumption if you ask me)
"Nooo! Just the spaceship is a carrot."
Ten minute intermission.
"Mamma Mamma guess what?"
"Hmm?"
"The carrot spaceship is in my belly. No more aliens! Hahahahahaa"
The semi-maniacal laughter really did it for me.
"Cool"
"It has aliens."
"Are they carrot aliens?" (perfectly rational assumption if you ask me)
"Nooo! Just the spaceship is a carrot."
Ten minute intermission.
"Mamma Mamma guess what?"
"Hmm?"
"The carrot spaceship is in my belly. No more aliens! Hahahahahaa"
The semi-maniacal laughter really did it for me.
Friday, August 18, 2006
How About Broccoli
Yes, I still have two sons. I apologize profusely for posting solely about Ian, though there was that day I posted about the grapes and the day I mentioned the self-induced black-eye-via-own-knee. I do actually pay attention to that other small representation of my husband. Seriously, if it weren’t for the eyes you’d have a hard time convincing me that Ethan is REALLY mine. (Well, the eyes and the hazy memory of 9 weeks of pre-term labor followed by 17 hours of labor.)
Ethan is 3.5 years old now. He’s not at the stage where that half a year is deathly important to him; the stage where those 6-11 extra months are all important information that must be emphasized repeatedly to complete strangers. That half a year is only important to me, and only because I delight in making myself feel that much older. It also comes in handy when reminding him that he is almost 4 and therefore really needs to get the hang of potty training. Like, now.
Besides the stubborn refusal to acknowledge control over his bodily functions, Ethan is a joy. He loves to paint. The other day I peered quizzically at his latest creation. It looked like aqua and pink blobs. “What’s this buddy?” He glanced over his shoulder, gave me a Magnum P.I.- esque shrug and declared “I don’t know”.
Ooook
He's certifiably bored being home with me all day. He watches too much TV and doesn’t spend enough time outside stabbing small beetles with sticks. I could blame the sleep deprivation and laziness on my part, but, in truth, I just suck at entertaining a 3.5 year old person.
Oh, and the title? That’s a direct quote from Ethan. He wandered into the office where I was trying desperately to write and nurse Ian (so much for an entire post not about Ian) and declared: “I’m hungry.”
“Ok boo, what would you like to eat?”
Cornflower blue eyes stared back at me and a solemn little voice said “How about broccoli?”
Must be doing something right…
Ethan is 3.5 years old now. He’s not at the stage where that half a year is deathly important to him; the stage where those 6-11 extra months are all important information that must be emphasized repeatedly to complete strangers. That half a year is only important to me, and only because I delight in making myself feel that much older. It also comes in handy when reminding him that he is almost 4 and therefore really needs to get the hang of potty training. Like, now.
Besides the stubborn refusal to acknowledge control over his bodily functions, Ethan is a joy. He loves to paint. The other day I peered quizzically at his latest creation. It looked like aqua and pink blobs. “What’s this buddy?” He glanced over his shoulder, gave me a Magnum P.I.- esque shrug and declared “I don’t know”.
Ooook
He's certifiably bored being home with me all day. He watches too much TV and doesn’t spend enough time outside stabbing small beetles with sticks. I could blame the sleep deprivation and laziness on my part, but, in truth, I just suck at entertaining a 3.5 year old person.
Oh, and the title? That’s a direct quote from Ethan. He wandered into the office where I was trying desperately to write and nurse Ian (so much for an entire post not about Ian) and declared: “I’m hungry.”
“Ok boo, what would you like to eat?”
Cornflower blue eyes stared back at me and a solemn little voice said “How about broccoli?”
Must be doing something right…
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Grape harvest 2006
We had an awesome harvest this year. Our third vine, that has concord purple grapes, didn't produce this year- it never has. We're going to pull it out and move a rose bush into it's spot. The red grapes are seedless, we discovered, so we're keeping those for eating. Hopefully we can work on that vine and get more grapes from it next year.
The green grapes have tons of small seeds so I'm using them for
making grape jelly. I need 4 quarts to make the jelly. In the "washing
grapes" picture (click on the picture here to see more) you can see a 4 quart juice pitcher sitting in the back and it is about 1/4 full. That represents one small container of harvested grapes- and only the best ones- that have been washed three times. Since we have so many grapes I can afford to throw out the ones with even the slightest bruising.
I'm still washing grapes and we harvested on Sunday. I'll start making the jelly tomorrow (Wednesday).
The green grapes have tons of small seeds so I'm using them for
making grape jelly. I need 4 quarts to make the jelly. In the "washing
grapes" picture (click on the picture here to see more) you can see a 4 quart juice pitcher sitting in the back and it is about 1/4 full. That represents one small container of harvested grapes- and only the best ones- that have been washed three times. Since we have so many grapes I can afford to throw out the ones with even the slightest bruising.
I'm still washing grapes and we harvested on Sunday. I'll start making the jelly tomorrow (Wednesday).
Saturday, August 12, 2006
3 Months
Ian is 3 months old now.
This month he has met his Papaw and his Grandaddy. He's learned how to laugh and he's started watching TV- though he doesn't get to pick the programs. He watches what big brother is watching and he'd better get used to that!
His eyes are now a dark green color. I think they'll eventually be brown or hazel, but the green is a nice color for now.
He's approxmiately 13.5 lbs, though we haven't had an "official" weight check. He's outgrowing his newborn and 0-3 months clothes and starting to fill out the 3-6 month sizes.
Ian doesn't sleep for more than 3-4 hours at a time but he is getting better about sleeping by himself. When he's not eating or cat napping he likes to sit in his bouncy seat and watch big brother Ethan romp around the house. While in the bouncy seat his legs are always kicking.
Ian's favorite place to be is still the middle of the dining room table. He's fascinated by that ugly chandelier. It sounds rather painful when his little heels kick against the hard wood of the table, but he doesn't seem to mind.
Ian HATES the car. He gets hot and sweaty in his seat and screams until picked up and stripped out of his damp clothing.
His nick name this month is "snigget." It has no meaning, it's just something a sleep deprived Mommy took to calling him and it seems to fit him- for now. Also, Daddy was a bit disturbed when Mommy called the baby "Smeagle."
We love you, our precious!
This month he has met his Papaw and his Grandaddy. He's learned how to laugh and he's started watching TV- though he doesn't get to pick the programs. He watches what big brother is watching and he'd better get used to that!
His eyes are now a dark green color. I think they'll eventually be brown or hazel, but the green is a nice color for now.
He's approxmiately 13.5 lbs, though we haven't had an "official" weight check. He's outgrowing his newborn and 0-3 months clothes and starting to fill out the 3-6 month sizes.
Ian doesn't sleep for more than 3-4 hours at a time but he is getting better about sleeping by himself. When he's not eating or cat napping he likes to sit in his bouncy seat and watch big brother Ethan romp around the house. While in the bouncy seat his legs are always kicking.
Ian's favorite place to be is still the middle of the dining room table. He's fascinated by that ugly chandelier. It sounds rather painful when his little heels kick against the hard wood of the table, but he doesn't seem to mind.
Ian HATES the car. He gets hot and sweaty in his seat and screams until picked up and stripped out of his damp clothing.
His nick name this month is "snigget." It has no meaning, it's just something a sleep deprived Mommy took to calling him and it seems to fit him- for now. Also, Daddy was a bit disturbed when Mommy called the baby "Smeagle."
We love you, our precious!
Monday, August 07, 2006
Let's Do Lunch
Today my neighbor Amy invited us over for lunch. Isn’t her name grand? The how-can- a-former-political-aide-be-so-bad-at-remembering-names part of me is SO glad that the woman who lives next door is named Amy and that she named her daughter Lena. It’s good karma, apparently because I can even remember her boys’ names and her husband’s name too!
Anyway, we had hamburgers and hot dogs, chips, grapes, apples, and most of all.. adult conversation. Granted it was often interrupted by two little boys and a little girl with various questions along the lines of: “Can I have water please? Make this hot, please? What is your name again?” and so on, but ...real conversation! With a live person! Who isn’t selling replacement windows!
Amy has this wonderful quality about her. She makes me relax even though I should be worrying about what Ethan is breaking, or if he has stabbed Lena in the eye, yet. I let him play, out of sight, for nearly 2 hours and didn’t have a nervous breakdown.
Progress.
Oh, and Ian? He charmed her and didn’t puke on her at all. Traitorous spawn.
Anyway, we had hamburgers and hot dogs, chips, grapes, apples, and most of all.. adult conversation. Granted it was often interrupted by two little boys and a little girl with various questions along the lines of: “Can I have water please? Make this hot, please? What is your name again?” and so on, but ...real conversation! With a live person! Who isn’t selling replacement windows!
Amy has this wonderful quality about her. She makes me relax even though I should be worrying about what Ethan is breaking, or if he has stabbed Lena in the eye, yet. I let him play, out of sight, for nearly 2 hours and didn’t have a nervous breakdown.
Progress.
Oh, and Ian? He charmed her and didn’t puke on her at all. Traitorous spawn.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
For me to Poop on
From Ian: Dear Aunt Holly, this outfit is so comfortable... FOR ME TO POOP ON! Mommy got me all dressed up and took my picture. Then she put me in my bouncy seat and I laughed at big brother. Mommy walked by and said "You smell suspicious." I'm not sure what suspicious means, but I sure was stinky. Then Mommy picked me up and made a little squeaking noise.
Muhahahha! My master plan worked out perfectly. Now I get to take a bath!
Muhahahha! My master plan worked out perfectly. Now I get to take a bath!
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Operation Cake
Mark announced three days ago that he wanted a chocolate, peanut butter, and coconut cake - sugar free of course- for his birthday. After incredulously repeating that list of ingredients, because those just aren’t common combinations, I said: “I can do that.”
I’m fairly sure that is definitive proof of demonic possession. I haven’t slept for more than three hours straight in two months, Ethan is in the middle of a whining phase, and it’s supposed to be a mere one billion degrees outside today. So, sure, I’ll just whip out the old apron, crank up the INCREDIBLY- HOT- SUPER- HEAT- THE- HOUSE oven, strap Ian to my chest (because we both need a good heat rash, don’t you know) and mix up a cake that no recipe exists for.
Right. And after that I can solve that whole minor disagreement in Lebanon.
Well I did it. Operation “Bake a Cake from Scratch without Committing Infanticide” is complete. I used this recipe, and made a few minor (read: MAJOR, what- was- I- thinking- HUGE) changes. Into the milk I added a chocolate syrup I made from combining ½ cup Hershey’s dry unsweetened cocoa with 2/3 cup hot water and stirring over medium heat until mixed. I let the milk/cocoa mixture cool while sifting (with Ethan’s help, and wow was that a mess) ¼ cup cocoa in with the flour, salt and baking powder recipe. At the end, after pouring the cake into the cake pan, I folded in 1 cup of peanut butter chips.
I had to use an 8x8x2 cake pan because I don’t own a 10x2 round cake pan and I used 2% milk instead of whole milk.
I’ll let you know what Mark, the birthday boy, thinks of the outcome.
I’m fairly sure that is definitive proof of demonic possession. I haven’t slept for more than three hours straight in two months, Ethan is in the middle of a whining phase, and it’s supposed to be a mere one billion degrees outside today. So, sure, I’ll just whip out the old apron, crank up the INCREDIBLY- HOT- SUPER- HEAT- THE- HOUSE oven, strap Ian to my chest (because we both need a good heat rash, don’t you know) and mix up a cake that no recipe exists for.
Right. And after that I can solve that whole minor disagreement in Lebanon.
Well I did it. Operation “Bake a Cake from Scratch without Committing Infanticide” is complete. I used this recipe, and made a few minor (read: MAJOR, what- was- I- thinking- HUGE) changes. Into the milk I added a chocolate syrup I made from combining ½ cup Hershey’s dry unsweetened cocoa with 2/3 cup hot water and stirring over medium heat until mixed. I let the milk/cocoa mixture cool while sifting (with Ethan’s help, and wow was that a mess) ¼ cup cocoa in with the flour, salt and baking powder recipe. At the end, after pouring the cake into the cake pan, I folded in 1 cup of peanut butter chips.
I had to use an 8x8x2 cake pan because I don’t own a 10x2 round cake pan and I used 2% milk instead of whole milk.
I’ll let you know what Mark, the birthday boy, thinks of the outcome.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Random
Random thoughts:
1. Ian's head smells funny.
2. Franklin the turtle isn't half as exciting as spaceships and robots when you're 3 going on 4
3. Ethan draws and paints with his left hand but has better dexterity with scissors using his right hand.
4. I have to figure out how to make a sugar-free, chocolate, peanut butter, and coconut cake by tomorrow afternoon.
5. Need to trim the hedges and roses but the mosquitoes are flying in visible swarms.
6. I keep trying to quit my job and I keep getting talked into working "just a few weeks more". I work at the Hotel California.
Update:
7. Ethan just gave himself a red, swollen, soon to be black, eye .. WITH HIS OWN KNEE.
.... I cannot even vizualize the physics involved there.
1. Ian's head smells funny.
2. Franklin the turtle isn't half as exciting as spaceships and robots when you're 3 going on 4
3. Ethan draws and paints with his left hand but has better dexterity with scissors using his right hand.
4. I have to figure out how to make a sugar-free, chocolate, peanut butter, and coconut cake by tomorrow afternoon.
5. Need to trim the hedges and roses but the mosquitoes are flying in visible swarms.
6. I keep trying to quit my job and I keep getting talked into working "just a few weeks more". I work at the Hotel California.
Update:
7. Ethan just gave himself a red, swollen, soon to be black, eye .. WITH HIS OWN KNEE.
.... I cannot even vizualize the physics involved there.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Snake day
And lo one morning did a snake come into the garden. Eve did prod the serpent with the handle of the broom, being yellow, and determine that the serpent was an agent of ickiness.
Being a dutiful wife, Eve did appear before Adam and say: “There is a serpent of considerable length there in our garden. And the toads and the dog do be afeared.”
Adam did squeak and render forth many imperfect words that duly translated meant: "Go forth wench and slay the foul beast. I shall stay here and protect the small human men from undue curiosity.”
Eve, loving all creatures, but not so much the mice and rats, which snakes do eat, did plead her plan to fling said snake high into the air and over the garden wall. Adam was unamused and spake that there would be no snake flinging. Verily the pest should be slain.
Eve, armed with the holy Yellow Broom and the Shovel of Smiting did venture forth again to do battle with the hissing pest.
Alas, the serpent had traveled yon from the garden- probably in search of apples, or, perhaps, fewer humans with brooms.
Eve returned, distraught at her failure.
Adam did say: “Some snake wrangler you are. Throw it over the wall indeed.”
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Too Fracking Hot
I've got plenty to write about. Plenty of baby quips, odd comments inspired by "the boy", (Yes I know they are both boys, but some habits are hard to break. And, really? After 4 hours or less of sleep for 2 months straight, I can't recall my own middle name, much less enunciate my eldest son's moniker. Wow I spelled enunciate right on the first try. The world= ending.) ... this sentence died somewhere...
And that's my point. Plenty to write about, plenty to do, but too fracking tired and too fracking hot to do anything but watch Diego save a baby sloth. What the frack? Saving a sloth? Hello? Darwin, anyone?
Not sure what this word is that I keep using? Well why aren't you watching The Best Fracking Show on TV?
Oh- because it doesn't come back on until fracking October.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Two Months
Well it has been an eventful 2 months (8.5 weeks due to the vagaries of the Julian calendar) since my doctor’s face fell and she announced “We’re not taking any more chances, you’re having this baby today!” The cliché is that I wouldn’t trade a minute of the past 2 months, but in truth I would trade several minutes for a few minutes of sleep.
Ian is an astounding 11lbs 4 ounces now. He doesn’t have his 2 month well-baby check-up until next week so you’ll have to wait on length and head circumference measurements. He has been diagnosed with reflux and is on Zantac twice a day.
He likes to eat (obviously), usually about every two hours. We’ve tried mixing some rice cereal in with his formula or expressed milk, but it doesn’t seem to help his reflux or his sleep pattern. He’s getting better about sleeping when not being held. This month we got one glorious five hour span of sleep out of him and several three hour stretches. Progress is slow, but encouraging.
He has been visited by his Nana and his Aunt Holly this month. He’ll soon meet his Papaw and his Granddaddy. We’ve taken trips to the grocery store, the library (we were asked to leave due to his screaming), and the park. Ian has been on long walks with big-brother Ethan and their Daddy.
Daddy, Nana, Aunt Holly, the doctor, big brother, the dog, and Pooh Bear all received smiles long before I was graced with Ian’s dimpled cheeks.
Speaking of Pooh Bear, the Pooh characters on his mobile are his staunchest allies and most entrenched enemies. They never fail to elicit a warm smile and perhaps even a gurgling coo, but they also just up and stop rotating right when he is most entranced. International diplomat that he is, Ian expresses his outrage with a full bodied screech of rage. Kim Jong Il would cease and desist in a heartbeat if he had to listen to that noise for more than a minute.
Thanks for two amazing months. Mamma loves you, little “chunk-Ian”.
Ian is an astounding 11lbs 4 ounces now. He doesn’t have his 2 month well-baby check-up until next week so you’ll have to wait on length and head circumference measurements. He has been diagnosed with reflux and is on Zantac twice a day.
He likes to eat (obviously), usually about every two hours. We’ve tried mixing some rice cereal in with his formula or expressed milk, but it doesn’t seem to help his reflux or his sleep pattern. He’s getting better about sleeping when not being held. This month we got one glorious five hour span of sleep out of him and several three hour stretches. Progress is slow, but encouraging.
He has been visited by his Nana and his Aunt Holly this month. He’ll soon meet his Papaw and his Granddaddy. We’ve taken trips to the grocery store, the library (we were asked to leave due to his screaming), and the park. Ian has been on long walks with big-brother Ethan and their Daddy.
Daddy, Nana, Aunt Holly, the doctor, big brother, the dog, and Pooh Bear all received smiles long before I was graced with Ian’s dimpled cheeks.
Speaking of Pooh Bear, the Pooh characters on his mobile are his staunchest allies and most entrenched enemies. They never fail to elicit a warm smile and perhaps even a gurgling coo, but they also just up and stop rotating right when he is most entranced. International diplomat that he is, Ian expresses his outrage with a full bodied screech of rage. Kim Jong Il would cease and desist in a heartbeat if he had to listen to that noise for more than a minute.
Thanks for two amazing months. Mamma loves you, little “chunk-Ian”.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Storytime
Ethan quickly got bored with the general bedtime stories, so I had to start making my own. Here's one of Ethan's favorites.
Once upon a time there was a big red dragon who wanted to play on the playground with all the kids, but all the kids were afraid of the dragon. They ran away when he flew over them.
Then, one day, a little boy didn't run away. The dragon landed and said "Why aren’t you afraid?"
The boy said "Why should I be afraid? I can't see you. My eyes are broken."
"Oh", said the dragon, for he had never met anyone with broken eyes before.
Then the little boy asked a funny question. “Can I touch your face?”
The dragon was confused. “Why do you want to touch my face?”
“Because that is how I see people. I touch their faces and I can imagine what they look like.”
“Oh, ok, “ said the dragon.
The little boy reached out and touched the dragon’s long face.
“Ooo you have scales like a fish. Are you a fish?” asked the little boy.
“No, I’m not a fish,” said the dragon.
“You have a long tongue like a snake. Are you a snake?”
“Nope, not a snake,” said the dragon.
“You sure are big like an elephant,” said the little boy. “Are you an elephant?”
“No, no, not an elephant.”
Then the little boy gave the dragon a great big HUG.
“What was THAT for?” the dragon asked.
“Well I know you’re not a fish, and I know you’re not a snake, and I know you’re not an elephant, but when I hug you, you feel like a friend. Will you be my friend?”
“Oh YES” said the big red dragon.
“Good,” said the little boy. “Let’s go swing!”
Once upon a time there was a big red dragon who wanted to play on the playground with all the kids, but all the kids were afraid of the dragon. They ran away when he flew over them.
Then, one day, a little boy didn't run away. The dragon landed and said "Why aren’t you afraid?"
The boy said "Why should I be afraid? I can't see you. My eyes are broken."
"Oh", said the dragon, for he had never met anyone with broken eyes before.
Then the little boy asked a funny question. “Can I touch your face?”
The dragon was confused. “Why do you want to touch my face?”
“Because that is how I see people. I touch their faces and I can imagine what they look like.”
“Oh, ok, “ said the dragon.
The little boy reached out and touched the dragon’s long face.
“Ooo you have scales like a fish. Are you a fish?” asked the little boy.
“No, I’m not a fish,” said the dragon.
“You have a long tongue like a snake. Are you a snake?”
“Nope, not a snake,” said the dragon.
“You sure are big like an elephant,” said the little boy. “Are you an elephant?”
“No, no, not an elephant.”
Then the little boy gave the dragon a great big HUG.
“What was THAT for?” the dragon asked.
“Well I know you’re not a fish, and I know you’re not a snake, and I know you’re not an elephant, but when I hug you, you feel like a friend. Will you be my friend?”
“Oh YES” said the big red dragon.
“Good,” said the little boy. “Let’s go swing!”
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Thanks Granny!
Ian's room used to be the guest room. When we moved to this house that particular room was a lovely Pepto-Bismol pink. Since we really didn't need an entire room of color that reminded us of indigestion, we re-painted the room in tans and palm tree greens. It became "The Cabana Suite".
Being second time parents and too busy/lazy to re-paint, we kept the wallpaper and paint the same when the Cabana Suite became "Baby Brother's Room". We needed a nursery theme to go along with the palm tree border. Repeating rows of umbrella drinks and tropicana girls being, oddly, unavailable in infant bedding, we decided on an animal and Noah's ark theme.
Granny, my mother, came through with flying colors. She found the perfect material and crafted sheets, pillow shams. bumper pads, curtains, and a diaper stacker. Click on the picture of Ian enjoying his mobile (he doesn’t actually sleep in the crib you know) to see close up shots of Granny's wonderful work.
Thanks Grannny!
Being second time parents and too busy/lazy to re-paint, we kept the wallpaper and paint the same when the Cabana Suite became "Baby Brother's Room". We needed a nursery theme to go along with the palm tree border. Repeating rows of umbrella drinks and tropicana girls being, oddly, unavailable in infant bedding, we decided on an animal and Noah's ark theme.
Granny, my mother, came through with flying colors. She found the perfect material and crafted sheets, pillow shams. bumper pads, curtains, and a diaper stacker. Click on the picture of Ian enjoying his mobile (he doesn’t actually sleep in the crib you know) to see close up shots of Granny's wonderful work.
Thanks Grannny!
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Quinhora Sombus
Happy Quinhora Sombus!
June 28th shall hereafter be celebrated as Quinhora Sombus, or, Five hours Sleep. That’s right, we got five Blessed, Holy, So Say We All, Amen, hours of uninterrupted sleep last night.
I don’t think one solitary dose of Zantac could really help so quickly, but I really don’t care what made him sleep that much. It could even be some weird sleep-inducing fungus growing in his brain, considering all the rain we’ve had. Again- don’t care! Ian nursed, he burped, he didn't scream. He snuggled into the side of his swing seat and slept. He slept for so long I woke up in a panic. He slept so long that Mark suggested waking him up to feed him. (Mark received a few choice words for that suggestion). When he woke up he nursed again, sighed a great big sigh, then yawned and looked at me all bleary eyed. And then he went back to sleep.
Quinhora Sombus, sponsored by the makers of Zantac and the letter ZZZZzzzzzzzz.
June 28th shall hereafter be celebrated as Quinhora Sombus, or, Five hours Sleep. That’s right, we got five Blessed, Holy, So Say We All, Amen, hours of uninterrupted sleep last night.
I don’t think one solitary dose of Zantac could really help so quickly, but I really don’t care what made him sleep that much. It could even be some weird sleep-inducing fungus growing in his brain, considering all the rain we’ve had. Again- don’t care! Ian nursed, he burped, he didn't scream. He snuggled into the side of his swing seat and slept. He slept for so long I woke up in a panic. He slept so long that Mark suggested waking him up to feed him. (Mark received a few choice words for that suggestion). When he woke up he nursed again, sighed a great big sigh, then yawned and looked at me all bleary eyed. And then he went back to sleep.
Quinhora Sombus, sponsored by the makers of Zantac and the letter ZZZZzzzzzzzz.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Suck it
I’m a bit late to this party: http://www.4woman.gov/breastfeeding/adcouncil/CNBA4230-E01NY.mpg
I hope everyone will forgive me, since I have the –fitting- excuse that I’m breastfeeding a colicky, possibly refluxing, 6 week old infant.
This ad is a disgrace and I’m outraged that my tax dollars went, in any small part, to fund it. The amount of money spent on this ad and its distribution could have printed pamphlets about proper pre-natal care or ads warning women of the dangers of post-partum depression. Instead we have this trite hyperbole that helps no one and angers many.
“Babies are born to be breastfed” claims the ad. Yes, well babies are also “born” to keep their food down without suffering from acid reflux. They are “born” to have tongues that can push a nipple against the tops of their mouths. Babies are “born” to be full term and healthy.
Women, by extension of this reasoning, are “born” to be able to breastfeed. They are “born” to have escaped breast cancer surgery. They are “born” to have normal blood pressure and thus avoid pregnancy-induced hypertension leading to severe prematurity of their children and life threatening seizures for themselves. Women are “born” to have normal blood chemistry and not need the miracles of modern medicine to regulate their self-destructive urges to harm themselves and their infants.
Is breastfeeding good for babies? In most cases, undoubtedly. But generalizations are dangerous things. Babies born to mothers who are addicted to drugs, for example, shouldn’t be breastfed. In that case, and many others like it, breastfeeding is not “best”. Even more destructive is the generalization that so called “normal” women should be able and willing to breastfeed.
I’m breastfeeding my second child. My first came home from the hospital with thrush. He was three weeks early and very sleepy. He didn’t “latch” well and breastfeeding was a tear inducing emotional hell for the first 5 weeks. Even after that it was by no means “easy” and the things I had to go through to continue breastfeeding cannot be considered “natural”. I went back to work full time when he was three months old. Ask any mother who has closeted herself in a bathroom stall 2-4 times a day to pump breast milk whether she’s doing something “natural”. There’s nothing natural about sticking a suction device to your breast and praying you can extract enough milk to feed your child for another day. There’s certainly nothing “easy” about explaining to single, unmarried, male coworkers why there are bags of breast milk chilling in the office fridge.
There are very few black and white truths to parenthood and, in that way, parenthood is a microcosm of society at large. Parents have to do the best they can to raise a healthy and happy child. Sometimes that means formula feeding. Sometimes doing what is best for your baby is making sure you are doing what works for you- whether that be breastfeeding, pumping milk to feed through bottles, or using formula.
The ad text mentions “exclusively breastfeeding for 6 months”. Well I guess you can sacrifice me on the altar of bad parenthood. This baby isn’t exclusively breastfed. He was born 4 weeks early and spent 6 hours in the NICU after a very stressful birth. In order to stabilize his plummeting blood sugar and body temperature he was given 20 ccs of formula. After discharge from the hospital we supplemented with formula in order to fight a nasty case of jaundice. So this child will never be “exclusively” breastfed. I seriously doubt I’ve ruined his fragile life. In fact, since I was following medical advice, I was probably saving his life.
I wish the Ad Council and HHS would take the money, and passion, they dedicated to this idiotic public service message and use it to find out why babies are born prematurely, why they are born with tongue-tie, why they develop life-threatening jaundice, why mother’s develop post-partum depression, and why people have to be so callously self-righteous about parenting choices.
Then, maybe, we will be able to ensure that all babies are “born” to be breastfed. Until then, the makers of this ad can, quite literally, SUCK IT.
I hope everyone will forgive me, since I have the –fitting- excuse that I’m breastfeeding a colicky, possibly refluxing, 6 week old infant.
This ad is a disgrace and I’m outraged that my tax dollars went, in any small part, to fund it. The amount of money spent on this ad and its distribution could have printed pamphlets about proper pre-natal care or ads warning women of the dangers of post-partum depression. Instead we have this trite hyperbole that helps no one and angers many.
“Babies are born to be breastfed” claims the ad. Yes, well babies are also “born” to keep their food down without suffering from acid reflux. They are “born” to have tongues that can push a nipple against the tops of their mouths. Babies are “born” to be full term and healthy.
Women, by extension of this reasoning, are “born” to be able to breastfeed. They are “born” to have escaped breast cancer surgery. They are “born” to have normal blood pressure and thus avoid pregnancy-induced hypertension leading to severe prematurity of their children and life threatening seizures for themselves. Women are “born” to have normal blood chemistry and not need the miracles of modern medicine to regulate their self-destructive urges to harm themselves and their infants.
Is breastfeeding good for babies? In most cases, undoubtedly. But generalizations are dangerous things. Babies born to mothers who are addicted to drugs, for example, shouldn’t be breastfed. In that case, and many others like it, breastfeeding is not “best”. Even more destructive is the generalization that so called “normal” women should be able and willing to breastfeed.
I’m breastfeeding my second child. My first came home from the hospital with thrush. He was three weeks early and very sleepy. He didn’t “latch” well and breastfeeding was a tear inducing emotional hell for the first 5 weeks. Even after that it was by no means “easy” and the things I had to go through to continue breastfeeding cannot be considered “natural”. I went back to work full time when he was three months old. Ask any mother who has closeted herself in a bathroom stall 2-4 times a day to pump breast milk whether she’s doing something “natural”. There’s nothing natural about sticking a suction device to your breast and praying you can extract enough milk to feed your child for another day. There’s certainly nothing “easy” about explaining to single, unmarried, male coworkers why there are bags of breast milk chilling in the office fridge.
There are very few black and white truths to parenthood and, in that way, parenthood is a microcosm of society at large. Parents have to do the best they can to raise a healthy and happy child. Sometimes that means formula feeding. Sometimes doing what is best for your baby is making sure you are doing what works for you- whether that be breastfeeding, pumping milk to feed through bottles, or using formula.
The ad text mentions “exclusively breastfeeding for 6 months”. Well I guess you can sacrifice me on the altar of bad parenthood. This baby isn’t exclusively breastfed. He was born 4 weeks early and spent 6 hours in the NICU after a very stressful birth. In order to stabilize his plummeting blood sugar and body temperature he was given 20 ccs of formula. After discharge from the hospital we supplemented with formula in order to fight a nasty case of jaundice. So this child will never be “exclusively” breastfed. I seriously doubt I’ve ruined his fragile life. In fact, since I was following medical advice, I was probably saving his life.
I wish the Ad Council and HHS would take the money, and passion, they dedicated to this idiotic public service message and use it to find out why babies are born prematurely, why they are born with tongue-tie, why they develop life-threatening jaundice, why mother’s develop post-partum depression, and why people have to be so callously self-righteous about parenting choices.
Then, maybe, we will be able to ensure that all babies are “born” to be breastfed. Until then, the makers of this ad can, quite literally, SUCK IT.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Baby Jag-water
Ethan loves "Dora the Explorer" but he is absolutely entranced by "Go Diego, Go". I think it is the animals.
Diego rescued a baby jaguar this morning. Now Ethan has launched on a massive safari of his own. He's grabbed the glasses from Mr. Potato Head ( because Mommy and Daddy can't leave the house without glasses, so obviously he can't either.), an old piece of string is a rope, the ladder off his fire truck might come in handy so that's getting carted along and he's turned into MacGyver by using a discarded underwire from one of my bras (don't ask) as a "screwdwiver".
Now he's off to save baby "Jag -Water". I probably should correct his pronunciation, and maybe even take the bra underwire away before my mother-in-law gets here, but he's having so much fun it's hard to stifle him.
Diego rescued a baby jaguar this morning. Now Ethan has launched on a massive safari of his own. He's grabbed the glasses from Mr. Potato Head ( because Mommy and Daddy can't leave the house without glasses, so obviously he can't either.), an old piece of string is a rope, the ladder off his fire truck might come in handy so that's getting carted along and he's turned into MacGyver by using a discarded underwire from one of my bras (don't ask) as a "screwdwiver".
Now he's off to save baby "Jag -Water". I probably should correct his pronunciation, and maybe even take the bra underwire away before my mother-in-law gets here, but he's having so much fun it's hard to stifle him.
Friday, June 16, 2006
1 month ( and some days)
Ian is now over 1 month old. You'll please forgive my tardiness in posting his one month update- its rather hard to type while holding the constantly fussy boy.
Ian Kenneth now weighs 8.5lbs, so he has gained an entire pound since birth. He is nursing well- too well sometimes. He still likes to eat every 2 hours.
We've found that he has sensitive skin and a very sensitive tummy. We still haven't worked ou thte tummy issues, but everyday is a little bit better.
He likes to sleep, but only while being held by someone, preferably Mommy. This picture is photographic proof that he slept for a whole 15 minutes in his bassinet. Last night he slept two whole HOURS in his swing seat.
He's much more alert now and his jaundice is all gone. We're still debating what color his eyes will end up being. Some days they are as blue as Ethan's and some days they look cloudy with a touch of hazel. Only time will tell.
Have to go now, he just realized he isn't being held.
Ian Kenneth now weighs 8.5lbs, so he has gained an entire pound since birth. He is nursing well- too well sometimes. He still likes to eat every 2 hours.
We've found that he has sensitive skin and a very sensitive tummy. We still haven't worked ou thte tummy issues, but everyday is a little bit better.
He likes to sleep, but only while being held by someone, preferably Mommy. This picture is photographic proof that he slept for a whole 15 minutes in his bassinet. Last night he slept two whole HOURS in his swing seat.
He's much more alert now and his jaundice is all gone. We're still debating what color his eyes will end up being. Some days they are as blue as Ethan's and some days they look cloudy with a touch of hazel. Only time will tell.
Have to go now, he just realized he isn't being held.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
What's in a name
Everyone always asks the reason behind a baby’s name. With Ethan we didn’t really have a “reason” we just liked the names Ethan and Harrison. With Ian we do have a reason. Ian, according to the baby name dictionary means “gracious gift of God.” While we certainly agree that is the case, we picked the name Ian because it went well with Kenneth.
My maternal grandfather was named Thomas Kenneth Aldridge. Some knew him as T.K., some of his co-workers called him Tom, his wife always referred to him- in my hearing- as Kenneth, but to me he will always be Pappa.
When I was in grade school and high school my parents would send my younger brother and I to spend a week or two with my mother’s parents. Gramma would sew clothes for us, feed us, entertain us and handle all the necessary (and it was often necessary) discipline. Pappa offered quieter companionship. He showed us how to do basic woodworking and took us fishing. He loaned me books, for he was a great devotee of the written word. He didn’t seem to have a favorite genre but he was partial to mysteries and histories. We did crossword puzzles together. We were both atrocious spellers so Gramma and Adrian would always laugh and correct our mistakes.
My fondest memories of Pappa come from sitting on the couch or lying stretched out on the floor watching baseball. Pappa was religious in his devotion to UK basketball and his acerbic comments didn’t invite much participation from us grandkids while the game was on. In fact, we were often actively discouraged from making a sound while the game was being played. Baseball, though, was different. We would watch afternoon Reds games or stay up late to watch the Dodgers play. My brother didn’t like baseball too much so it was often just Pappa and I. We would sit in silence and watch the game. We could go whole innings without either of us uttering a word, but there was something companionable in that silence. Pappa taught me the solace of silence enjoyed in company of loved ones. With Pappa you didn’t have to talk while together. It was enough to just.. be.
Pappa loved us, but he wasn’t openly affectionate. We’d hug in greeting or to say goodbye, but we didn’t constantly vocalize our feelings. He knew and we knew. When I was a teenager I came downstairs one afternoon to find him quietly standing over the sleeping form of my infant cousin Lena. He wasn’t touching her or saying a word. The look on his face is something I will never forget. He looked up and saw me standing there. He left the room without saying a word, but I knew in my soul that he loved that little baby girl lying on the bed.
My Pappa died in December 2002 just 5 weeks after Ethan was born. I know he was very worried about Mark and I “having a child up there all alone in the big city with no family around”. It is one of my biggest regrets that he died never having seen or held his great grandson. I try very hard to be the best parent I can and maybe part of that is the subconscious urge to make Pappa proud of me.
I’d like to think that if Pappa were here with us today I would come downstairs to find him relaxing in his comfy over-sized chair with Ethan settled in the crook of his arm. They’d be watching baseball, trading quiet comments about the color of the grass in the outfield, a particularly wild pitch, or how silly that first baseman looks with his socks pulled up high. Maybe I’d turn a corner and find Pappa staring down at Ian’s sleeping form with that same look of loving awe.
Kenneth, in the baby name dictionary, means handsome one.
For me it will always mean love.
My maternal grandfather was named Thomas Kenneth Aldridge. Some knew him as T.K., some of his co-workers called him Tom, his wife always referred to him- in my hearing- as Kenneth, but to me he will always be Pappa.
When I was in grade school and high school my parents would send my younger brother and I to spend a week or two with my mother’s parents. Gramma would sew clothes for us, feed us, entertain us and handle all the necessary (and it was often necessary) discipline. Pappa offered quieter companionship. He showed us how to do basic woodworking and took us fishing. He loaned me books, for he was a great devotee of the written word. He didn’t seem to have a favorite genre but he was partial to mysteries and histories. We did crossword puzzles together. We were both atrocious spellers so Gramma and Adrian would always laugh and correct our mistakes.
My fondest memories of Pappa come from sitting on the couch or lying stretched out on the floor watching baseball. Pappa was religious in his devotion to UK basketball and his acerbic comments didn’t invite much participation from us grandkids while the game was on. In fact, we were often actively discouraged from making a sound while the game was being played. Baseball, though, was different. We would watch afternoon Reds games or stay up late to watch the Dodgers play. My brother didn’t like baseball too much so it was often just Pappa and I. We would sit in silence and watch the game. We could go whole innings without either of us uttering a word, but there was something companionable in that silence. Pappa taught me the solace of silence enjoyed in company of loved ones. With Pappa you didn’t have to talk while together. It was enough to just.. be.
Pappa loved us, but he wasn’t openly affectionate. We’d hug in greeting or to say goodbye, but we didn’t constantly vocalize our feelings. He knew and we knew. When I was a teenager I came downstairs one afternoon to find him quietly standing over the sleeping form of my infant cousin Lena. He wasn’t touching her or saying a word. The look on his face is something I will never forget. He looked up and saw me standing there. He left the room without saying a word, but I knew in my soul that he loved that little baby girl lying on the bed.
My Pappa died in December 2002 just 5 weeks after Ethan was born. I know he was very worried about Mark and I “having a child up there all alone in the big city with no family around”. It is one of my biggest regrets that he died never having seen or held his great grandson. I try very hard to be the best parent I can and maybe part of that is the subconscious urge to make Pappa proud of me.
I’d like to think that if Pappa were here with us today I would come downstairs to find him relaxing in his comfy over-sized chair with Ethan settled in the crook of his arm. They’d be watching baseball, trading quiet comments about the color of the grass in the outfield, a particularly wild pitch, or how silly that first baseman looks with his socks pulled up high. Maybe I’d turn a corner and find Pappa staring down at Ian’s sleeping form with that same look of loving awe.
Kenneth, in the baby name dictionary, means handsome one.
For me it will always mean love.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Baby Blackmail
Words I've actually muttered in the past 24 hours:
"Keep fussing kid and I'll go eat a great big hunk of cheese with a chaser of chocolate milk."
It should be noted that Ian is incorruptable and thus ignored my threats and bribery attempts. Also, this entry was typed one handed.
"Keep fussing kid and I'll go eat a great big hunk of cheese with a chaser of chocolate milk."
It should be noted that Ian is incorruptable and thus ignored my threats and bribery attempts. Also, this entry was typed one handed.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Overheard from the living room
Recently overheard conversation between Ethan and Katya:
"Come on Doggy lets play. You play this game?"
"Simon says touch your nose."
(long pause)
"Oh MAMMA, Doggy won't touch her nose."
"Doggy wag your tale. OHHH Simon didn't say!"
"Come on Doggy lets play. You play this game?"
"Simon says touch your nose."
(long pause)
"Oh MAMMA, Doggy won't touch her nose."
"Doggy wag your tale. OHHH Simon didn't say!"
Monday, June 05, 2006
Colic Chronicles: Act 1
First I’d like to say that we are assuming Ian has colic based on the assumptions of friends, family and doctors. I was, until last night, happy that he showed no signs of the reflux disease his big brother had. After the screaming and puking of last night, I’m not so sure.
10pm: After being pestered awake by Daddy for several hours, Ian falls into a peaceful sleep in his swing. I put him down in his crib and crawl into my own bed.
Midnight: Ian wakes up hungry. I wake up actually grateful for a mere two hours of uninterrupted sleep in my own bed.
12:30am: Put Ian in his swing to keep him upright a bit longer.
12:45am: He very noisily fills his diaper. In the process of changing his diaper he spits up all over his sleeper. Changing his sleeper wakes him up fully
1:30am: He’s finally back asleep in his crib
1:45am: He’s screaming and grunting in pain
2am: try feeding him again
2am-4am: Long vicious cycle of painful cries, puking, passing gas, filling diapers and generally being miserable (for both of us)
4am: In a fit of severe irritation, I take him into our bedroom and semi-wake up Mark so he gets the joy of hearing the baby gag and cough and puke. Ian rewards me by falling blissfully asleep with barely a belch.
5am: Should have made him burp more. He’s awake, screaming, and VERY unhappy.
5am- 7am: this is all a bit hazy. At some point I gave up the fight and fell asleep in a most uncomfortable position with Ian on my chest whimpering.
For those of you keeping score at home that adds up to: 4 dirty diapers, 2 changes of clothing (and 2 for me), 4 blankets/burp cloths and about 4 hours of sleep ( not consecutive).
10pm: After being pestered awake by Daddy for several hours, Ian falls into a peaceful sleep in his swing. I put him down in his crib and crawl into my own bed.
Midnight: Ian wakes up hungry. I wake up actually grateful for a mere two hours of uninterrupted sleep in my own bed.
12:30am: Put Ian in his swing to keep him upright a bit longer.
12:45am: He very noisily fills his diaper. In the process of changing his diaper he spits up all over his sleeper. Changing his sleeper wakes him up fully
1:30am: He’s finally back asleep in his crib
1:45am: He’s screaming and grunting in pain
2am: try feeding him again
2am-4am: Long vicious cycle of painful cries, puking, passing gas, filling diapers and generally being miserable (for both of us)
4am: In a fit of severe irritation, I take him into our bedroom and semi-wake up Mark so he gets the joy of hearing the baby gag and cough and puke. Ian rewards me by falling blissfully asleep with barely a belch.
5am: Should have made him burp more. He’s awake, screaming, and VERY unhappy.
5am- 7am: this is all a bit hazy. At some point I gave up the fight and fell asleep in a most uncomfortable position with Ian on my chest whimpering.
For those of you keeping score at home that adds up to: 4 dirty diapers, 2 changes of clothing (and 2 for me), 4 blankets/burp cloths and about 4 hours of sleep ( not consecutive).
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Brothers
Recently, while at dinner, Ethan sighed heavily, got up from his chair, and marched across the living room. He then knelt and very gently covered Ian's feet with the blanket that had been kicked into the floor. Without saying a word he then returned to the table and his dinner. A few minutes later he glanced over and sighed loudly. "Again!?" he exclaimed. He marched back across the room and recovered "baby brother's" feet, a look of pure expasperation on his face.
I know that someday soon they'll be fighting over toys and beating each other with t-ball bats- so I'm enjoying the tender adoration Ethan is showing Ian these days. He's extremely proud- and protective- of his baby brother.
Click on the picture for more shots of Ethan helping me bathe Ian.
I know that someday soon they'll be fighting over toys and beating each other with t-ball bats- so I'm enjoying the tender adoration Ethan is showing Ian these days. He's extremely proud- and protective- of his baby brother.
Click on the picture for more shots of Ethan helping me bathe Ian.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Ian Kenneth
Ethan ( with help from Daddy and I) would like to announce the arrival of "baby brother". While my blog entry of a few weeks ago said "yes we can wait", apparently the newest Davis man had other ideas.
Ian Kenneth Davis arrived on Thursday May 11, 2006. He weighed 7lbs 8oz and was 19inches long.
It was a relatively short 6 hour labor but (not so) little Ian couldn't tolerate all the excitement. He spent a few hours in the neo-natal intensive care unit (NICU) to stablizie his blood sugar, temperature and breathing. We're happy to report that he is a picture of health, now.
Click on the picture of my adorable boys to see more photos.
Ian Kenneth Davis arrived on Thursday May 11, 2006. He weighed 7lbs 8oz and was 19inches long.
It was a relatively short 6 hour labor but (not so) little Ian couldn't tolerate all the excitement. He spent a few hours in the neo-natal intensive care unit (NICU) to stablizie his blood sugar, temperature and breathing. We're happy to report that he is a picture of health, now.
Click on the picture of my adorable boys to see more photos.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Happy Derby Day!
It is uniquely appropriate that my first roses of the year should appear on Derby Day.
If you are the superstitious type with your betting, you might be interested to know that I was fairly sure that the bush these roses came from was dead and gone. A long shot rose bush gives perfect first of the year blooms on Derby Day- what more of a sign do you need.
I had to take the picture before the menfolk devoured the pie.
Enjoy Derby Day.
If you are the superstitious type with your betting, you might be interested to know that I was fairly sure that the bush these roses came from was dead and gone. A long shot rose bush gives perfect first of the year blooms on Derby Day- what more of a sign do you need.
I had to take the picture before the menfolk devoured the pie.
Enjoy Derby Day.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Yes, I can wait
I'm sure it's just a polite form of greeting when seeing a very pregnant woman. Much like you would ask any "normal" person "How are you?" without expecting a full health history, you tell a visibly pregnant woman "I bet you can't wait!".
But I can wait.
I realize that I waddle. I admit it and even mock myself. My hips are a full nautical mile apart now. You try walking with hips wider apart than your shoulder blades and a new center of gravity to boot. And, let's be honest, I was never a very graceful person to begin with! I realize that it really looks like I stuffed a pumpkin in my underwear and that my face, feet, hands and even my knees are swollen. I realize that I wheeze and pant with every step.
But I can wait.
This little boy isn't due until June 5th. He needs to grow a bit more before making his entrance into this world, even though the idea of him growing larger is slightly terrifying. He needs to let his lungs fully mature, his liver prepare to handle life outside the womb, and his swallow reflex to develop.
Ethan was born at 37 weeks and he was a very healthy boy. But he had reflux, he didn't pick up on nursing well and he gained weight slowly (at first). If waiting until 38, 39, or 40 weeks helps eliminate those problems, I can wait.
I can wait. These are the last few weeks when Ethan has his Mamma all to himself. While I miss being able to dance with him and take long walks to the park, I know that my attention will be seriously divided very soon. Actually having a lap for him to sit on while reading stories won't matter when his baby brother is needing to be fed.
We've come this far. We prayed for this baby and have been fighting for the past 7 weeks to keep him safe and sound. After coming this far, a few more weeks hardly matter.
So ask me "How much longer?" and remark "I bet you can't wait". You'll get a secretive little smile and a nod.
Mark can wait; Ethan can wait; I can wait.
Baby brother will be here soon. Until then, we're enjoying the wait.
But I can wait.
I realize that I waddle. I admit it and even mock myself. My hips are a full nautical mile apart now. You try walking with hips wider apart than your shoulder blades and a new center of gravity to boot. And, let's be honest, I was never a very graceful person to begin with! I realize that it really looks like I stuffed a pumpkin in my underwear and that my face, feet, hands and even my knees are swollen. I realize that I wheeze and pant with every step.
But I can wait.
This little boy isn't due until June 5th. He needs to grow a bit more before making his entrance into this world, even though the idea of him growing larger is slightly terrifying. He needs to let his lungs fully mature, his liver prepare to handle life outside the womb, and his swallow reflex to develop.
Ethan was born at 37 weeks and he was a very healthy boy. But he had reflux, he didn't pick up on nursing well and he gained weight slowly (at first). If waiting until 38, 39, or 40 weeks helps eliminate those problems, I can wait.
I can wait. These are the last few weeks when Ethan has his Mamma all to himself. While I miss being able to dance with him and take long walks to the park, I know that my attention will be seriously divided very soon. Actually having a lap for him to sit on while reading stories won't matter when his baby brother is needing to be fed.
We've come this far. We prayed for this baby and have been fighting for the past 7 weeks to keep him safe and sound. After coming this far, a few more weeks hardly matter.
So ask me "How much longer?" and remark "I bet you can't wait". You'll get a secretive little smile and a nod.
Mark can wait; Ethan can wait; I can wait.
Baby brother will be here soon. Until then, we're enjoying the wait.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Worn out
After a hard day of adventures, a little car-nap is essential. Ethan has been to the diner ( for pancackes with Daddy), the grocery store, the library, the "special playground" at the park and for a train ride- all before 2pm.
The 15 minute ride home was all he needed to recharge, though. He's having a snack and watching his "chicken movie" (Chicken Little) right now.
The 15 minute ride home was all he needed to recharge, though. He's having a snack and watching his "chicken movie" (Chicken Little) right now.
Shiny New Train
We're blessed to live in a county with numerous, well maintained, parks. Our favorite by far is Burke Lake Park. Acres of meadows, wooded areas, and a small lake are surrounded by playgrounds, an ice cream parlor, a minature golf course and, most importantly, a train ride.
Today, Saturday, was the dedication day for the new train which runs through the park. This is, of course, Ethan's favorite part of visiting "the special playground". We got to ride the train for free and received a special pin on the end of our ride. Ethan wants to go again- right now!
Today, Saturday, was the dedication day for the new train which runs through the park. This is, of course, Ethan's favorite part of visiting "the special playground". We got to ride the train for free and received a special pin on the end of our ride. Ethan wants to go again- right now!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
9 Years Old Today
Some people buy cars, lots of clothes, fancy jewelry, or furniture when they graduate from college. Me, I bought a dog. She was only $25 and that should have been a big clue.
We went to a rescue shelter. There were probably 2 dozen dogs of all different breeds at that shelter. There was one beagle mix standing on top of his dog house. Mark wanted that dog. I wanted the tiny little ball of black fuzz who was meekly curled up at my feet. She was a cocker spaniel/beagle mix according to the shelter owner. She was also only 8 weeks old. I wonder, now, what she had to be rescued from at such a young age. Perhaps she was the offspring of dogs already in the shelter. If that is the case, the owner has some explaining to do.
My Aunt Dianne, who often seems to be running her own rescue shelter, took one look at Katya and declared that she was going to be a lot bigger than 20-30lbs. Nonsense, I said, she's a cocker/beagle mix. There's no way she'll "grow into" those huge paws. My Aunt Dianne is a wise woman. She kept her peace but I know she's been silently laughing at me ever since.
Katya (the name is a common diminutive in German and Russian and I just picked it out of the air) grew into her paws. She weighs between 50-60 lbs depending on her diet and the time of year. She stands as tall as my parent's Australian shepherd. She bays at fire trucks, points naturally (though having been raised in a city she tends to point at motorcycles and squirrels more than birds), and has a long feathered tail. She is, truly, a mut- if mut is short for "mutant freak".
Katya is a difficult creature to live with. She can be cuddly, but she's usually too rambunctious to really cuddle up with. She's never so much as growled at Ethan, even when he pulls on her tail, but she's been known to knock him down while they play. She loves to chase balls but refuses to bring them back. She digs- constantly. We've tried every manner of training to prevent the digging but nothing has worked. And- this is hard to admit on a public site- she humps pillows. She's a spayed FEMALE dog and she humps pillows with gusto. It's disgusting and disturbing and will scar you for life should you ever witness it.
But for all that, I cannot imagine life without her. Even now when she's waking me up at 4am because she's thirsty or chewing up the one pair of pantyhose I could actually fit into, I still love her. Just don't tell her that, it will go to her head.
Happy 9th Birthday, Katya!
We went to a rescue shelter. There were probably 2 dozen dogs of all different breeds at that shelter. There was one beagle mix standing on top of his dog house. Mark wanted that dog. I wanted the tiny little ball of black fuzz who was meekly curled up at my feet. She was a cocker spaniel/beagle mix according to the shelter owner. She was also only 8 weeks old. I wonder, now, what she had to be rescued from at such a young age. Perhaps she was the offspring of dogs already in the shelter. If that is the case, the owner has some explaining to do.
My Aunt Dianne, who often seems to be running her own rescue shelter, took one look at Katya and declared that she was going to be a lot bigger than 20-30lbs. Nonsense, I said, she's a cocker/beagle mix. There's no way she'll "grow into" those huge paws. My Aunt Dianne is a wise woman. She kept her peace but I know she's been silently laughing at me ever since.
Katya (the name is a common diminutive in German and Russian and I just picked it out of the air) grew into her paws. She weighs between 50-60 lbs depending on her diet and the time of year. She stands as tall as my parent's Australian shepherd. She bays at fire trucks, points naturally (though having been raised in a city she tends to point at motorcycles and squirrels more than birds), and has a long feathered tail. She is, truly, a mut- if mut is short for "mutant freak".
Katya is a difficult creature to live with. She can be cuddly, but she's usually too rambunctious to really cuddle up with. She's never so much as growled at Ethan, even when he pulls on her tail, but she's been known to knock him down while they play. She loves to chase balls but refuses to bring them back. She digs- constantly. We've tried every manner of training to prevent the digging but nothing has worked. And- this is hard to admit on a public site- she humps pillows. She's a spayed FEMALE dog and she humps pillows with gusto. It's disgusting and disturbing and will scar you for life should you ever witness it.
But for all that, I cannot imagine life without her. Even now when she's waking me up at 4am because she's thirsty or chewing up the one pair of pantyhose I could actually fit into, I still love her. Just don't tell her that, it will go to her head.
Happy 9th Birthday, Katya!
Monday, April 10, 2006
Hanging Around
I haven't provided pictures in quite some time, so click on the picture to the right to get more shots of our recent activities.
The baby's room is slowly coming together with most of the hard work being done by Mark while I sit around "supervising". Ok, in truth I mostly try to keep Ethan out of the way.
Shannon and Ernie have been a huge help the past two weekends. There are pictures of Gaby included in the photo section- because for two blessed weekends in a row she and Ethan have played together like angels instead of hitting, biting and kicking.
The baby's room is slowly coming together with most of the hard work being done by Mark while I sit around "supervising". Ok, in truth I mostly try to keep Ethan out of the way.
Shannon and Ernie have been a huge help the past two weekends. There are pictures of Gaby included in the photo section- because for two blessed weekends in a row she and Ethan have played together like angels instead of hitting, biting and kicking.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
On the "sauce"...
Well my body is being irritaing again. The pre-term labor complication have gotten worse, and are worse than they were with Ethan. Because of this I spent some time yesterday in the hospital having an ultrasound, being monitored for contractions, and getting steriod shots for the baby's lungs to develop just in case he decides to be a April or May baby.
Let me tell you: those 'roids in the butt HURT. People willingly inject themselves with those? Ugh. Though I guess I will now have a butt capable of hitting 60 homeruns per season!
The baby is doing great. He's very active - as always- and measuring a week and a half ahead. Estimated weight at this point is 4lbs.
I am on strict bedrest, a drug that I HATE called terbutaline (My new nickname is Shaky Mommy), and I have to go back for another shot in the butt later today. Fun huh? Anyone want to trade?
Let me tell you: those 'roids in the butt HURT. People willingly inject themselves with those? Ugh. Though I guess I will now have a butt capable of hitting 60 homeruns per season!
The baby is doing great. He's very active - as always- and measuring a week and a half ahead. Estimated weight at this point is 4lbs.
I am on strict bedrest, a drug that I HATE called terbutaline (My new nickname is Shaky Mommy), and I have to go back for another shot in the butt later today. Fun huh? Anyone want to trade?
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Why?
Ethan has entered the “why” stage
"Eat your dinner."
“Why?”
“Because carrots are yummy.”
“Why?”
AHHHHHHHHHHH
Mark tells him yesterday "Hurry up buddy we have to go."
"Why? Where we going?"
Mark gets frustrated and says "To the moon buddy, we're going to the moon."
(can you see this tragedy unfolding?)
"OH the MOON. Oh Mamma we're going to the MOON."
"That's nice love, have fun on the Moon. Wear your coat."
"Why?"
"Because outer space is cold"
"Why?"
"Something about atmospheric heating and lack of air in the vacuum of space, now put your shoes on"
So last night Mark mutters "The moon thing backfired."
***shocked***
"Yeah? How so?"
"He cried when he realized we were going to daycare and not to the moon. I had to promise him we'd go to the moon someday on an adventure."
***rolling my eyes***
"Way to dig your self out of the hole of unreasonable expectations."
Mark ( muttering sleepily) "Why?"
"Eat your dinner."
“Why?”
“Because carrots are yummy.”
“Why?”
AHHHHHHHHHHH
Mark tells him yesterday "Hurry up buddy we have to go."
"Why? Where we going?"
Mark gets frustrated and says "To the moon buddy, we're going to the moon."
(can you see this tragedy unfolding?)
"OH the MOON. Oh Mamma we're going to the MOON."
"That's nice love, have fun on the Moon. Wear your coat."
"Why?"
"Because outer space is cold"
"Why?"
"Something about atmospheric heating and lack of air in the vacuum of space, now put your shoes on"
So last night Mark mutters "The moon thing backfired."
***shocked***
"Yeah? How so?"
"He cried when he realized we were going to daycare and not to the moon. I had to promise him we'd go to the moon someday on an adventure."
***rolling my eyes***
"Way to dig your self out of the hole of unreasonable expectations."
Mark ( muttering sleepily) "Why?"
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Han Solo says...
"It's not my fault!"
Blogger is apparently having some site issues which has left my blog either unavailable entirely or very, very, odd looking. Sorry for the issues, but for once they are really and truly not the result of my abysmal typing or HTML skills.
Blogger is apparently having some site issues which has left my blog either unavailable entirely or very, very, odd looking. Sorry for the issues, but for once they are really and truly not the result of my abysmal typing or HTML skills.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Bedrest Day 3
Today was supposed to be Liberation Day. I had a doctor's appointment at 4pm and there I was hoping for a negative test indicating impending labor and, also, signs that everything had calmed down. Instead I ended up with more questions. The doctor could not tell me why I'm having contractions, why I'm dilated or what the future holds. We're still in "wait and see mode" for the forseeable future. The test results should be back Monday. Hopefully I can return to some modified activity after that. I shudder to think what my inbox looks like at work.
Mark is making dinner tonight and we're going to spend the weekend relaxing. His back isn't completely 100% yet and I'm still officially on bedrest until Monday.
Mark is making dinner tonight and we're going to spend the weekend relaxing. His back isn't completely 100% yet and I'm still officially on bedrest until Monday.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Bedrest Day 2
Today wasn't much better than yesterday. Yesterday (Day1) the cramping and contractions started after just a bit of mild activity trying to pick out a movie with Ethan. Having to lie on the couch and listen to him cry and beg for "Mamma stories" when he went to bed (upstairs) broke my heart.
Today I read some more, watched far too much of Discovery Health Channel and took two long naps. One of the television shows had a woman who was in labor and she was crying because she wasn't even dilated to one cm yet and her contractions were already hurting. I thought "trade you"!
I was already upstairs when Ethan went to bed so we got to have story time together. That made the day worth it. He's growing up so fast.
Today I read some more, watched far too much of Discovery Health Channel and took two long naps. One of the television shows had a woman who was in labor and she was crying because she wasn't even dilated to one cm yet and her contractions were already hurting. I thought "trade you"!
I was already upstairs when Ethan went to bed so we got to have story time together. That made the day worth it. He's growing up so fast.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Bedrest Chronicles, Day 1
I'll spare you the reader, and the internet at large, the gory details. If you are reading this you most likely have already heard all the details through the family grapevine or through some other internet communication system, anyway. To sum up: I'm in pre-term labor again.
Bedrest is excruciatingly stupefying-ly boring, so far. TiVO was not my friend and did not anticipate my sudden need for tons of interesting TV to have ready to watch. I'm not supposed to be on the computer so that rules out playing video games. I'm re-reading Tom Clancy's Red Storm Rising and listening to the wind beat the trees against the house.
Ethan and Mark are at school and work. Katya is sleeping. It's just me and the incredible jumping belly baby.
Let's all hope this is a silly misunderstanding between my body and the calendar and that on Friday I'll be released to return to your normally scheduled programming. Have to go now, my allotted computer time has expired for the day.
Bedrest is excruciatingly stupefying-ly boring, so far. TiVO was not my friend and did not anticipate my sudden need for tons of interesting TV to have ready to watch. I'm not supposed to be on the computer so that rules out playing video games. I'm re-reading Tom Clancy's Red Storm Rising and listening to the wind beat the trees against the house.
Ethan and Mark are at school and work. Katya is sleeping. It's just me and the incredible jumping belly baby.
Let's all hope this is a silly misunderstanding between my body and the calendar and that on Friday I'll be released to return to your normally scheduled programming. Have to go now, my allotted computer time has expired for the day.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Tagged
I've been blog-tagged by Shannon so I guess I'd best respond.
A) Four jobs you have had in your life:
1. camp counselor
2. fast food manager
3. cable company manager
4. US Senate aide
B) Four movies you would watch over and over:
1. Princess Bride
2. Willow
3. Gone with the Wind
4. Gladiator
C) Four places you have lived (only four?):
1. (West) Germany
2. Frostburg, Maryland
3. Monterey, California
4. Marietta, Georgia
D) Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. Battlestar Galactica (Best fracking show on TV)
2. CSI: NY
3. Law & Order SVU
4. anything on the History Channel
E) Four places you have been on vacation:
1. Luxembourg
2. Scotland
3. Cancun
4. New Orleans
F) Four websites I visit daily:
1. June 2006 EC
2. The Weather Channel
3. Camelot Herald
4. Dooce
G) Four of my favorite foods:
1. BBQ pork shoulder
2. mashed potatoes
3. green peas
4. filet mignon
H) Four places I would rather be right now:
1. at home in bed
2. at the park with Ethan
3. Kentucky Lake
4. Rupp Arena
Now I'm supposed to "tag" four people with blogs. I think I shall pick Cheryl, Heather, Alison, and.... frack I don't know a fourth person who wants to publicly associate with me. Just deal with it ok?
A) Four jobs you have had in your life:
1. camp counselor
2. fast food manager
3. cable company manager
4. US Senate aide
B) Four movies you would watch over and over:
1. Princess Bride
2. Willow
3. Gone with the Wind
4. Gladiator
C) Four places you have lived (only four?):
1. (West) Germany
2. Frostburg, Maryland
3. Monterey, California
4. Marietta, Georgia
D) Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. Battlestar Galactica (Best fracking show on TV)
2. CSI: NY
3. Law & Order SVU
4. anything on the History Channel
E) Four places you have been on vacation:
1. Luxembourg
2. Scotland
3. Cancun
4. New Orleans
F) Four websites I visit daily:
1. June 2006 EC
2. The Weather Channel
3. Camelot Herald
4. Dooce
G) Four of my favorite foods:
1. BBQ pork shoulder
2. mashed potatoes
3. green peas
4. filet mignon
H) Four places I would rather be right now:
1. at home in bed
2. at the park with Ethan
3. Kentucky Lake
4. Rupp Arena
Now I'm supposed to "tag" four people with blogs. I think I shall pick Cheryl, Heather, Alison, and.... frack I don't know a fourth person who wants to publicly associate with me. Just deal with it ok?
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Noah and the Dragons
"What ya reading, buddy?"
"My Jesus book" (It's a book of illustrated Bible stories that was a gift from his Long godparents)
"What's it about?"
A pair of blue eyes cut over at me and a little exasperated sigh slips out. "Jesus"
"Oh, of course"
He begins to flip pages. "And the baby in the water and the kids and the Mommy and the Daddy and Noah and the dog and dragons."
"Er.. I don't think Noah had dragons on the Ark, sweetheart."
I swear I think he rolled his eyes at this point
"And God and the dragons and the fish. The end."
And verily was it good, for he hath inherited the love of books and the sarcastic wit of his forbearers. And the people wept.
"My Jesus book" (It's a book of illustrated Bible stories that was a gift from his Long godparents)
"What's it about?"
A pair of blue eyes cut over at me and a little exasperated sigh slips out. "Jesus"
"Oh, of course"
He begins to flip pages. "And the baby in the water and the kids and the Mommy and the Daddy and Noah and the dog and dragons."
"Er.. I don't think Noah had dragons on the Ark, sweetheart."
I swear I think he rolled his eyes at this point
"And God and the dragons and the fish. The end."
And verily was it good, for he hath inherited the love of books and the sarcastic wit of his forbearers. And the people wept.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Hair of the Mommy
Ethan has blessedly inherited his father's immune system. In his 3 years and few months he's been alive, Ethan has had one ear infection and it was so mild I don't even recall if he had antibiotics for it. He's had a few colds, and is constantly bruised and banged up from the usual little boy trips and spills, but no major illnesses.
Apparently he decided we were getting off easy on this whole parenting thing. When he gets sick, Ethan does it with style. Last Wednesday night he suddenly had a fever of 102.5 degrees. I took him to the doctor the next day. At that time the only symptom of illness was the high fever. The doctor, helpfully, told me to keep him on Tylenol for the fever and call if he got worse. Worse is a mild understatement. By the time we made it back to the doctor on Monday he'd had the high fever for days, had a nasty runny nose, a cough and gunky clogged eyes.
Official diagnosis is an ear infection, a sinus infection, and the beginnings of bronchitis. He's on some lovely bubble-gum flavored antibiotics, nasty Robitussin which he spits back at me and … Tylenol for the fever. He's also being dosed with heavy amounts of Dora and "dragon movies" that his Daddy helpfully downloaded for him- on my computer.
Yesterday I managed to take a shower long enough to condition my hair. That resulted in soft, silky, static charged hair sticking out all over my head. As we were getting ready to go out the door to the doctor's office, Ethan suddenly grinned and reached over to pat my hair.
"You have hair like lion, Mommy."
I'm taking it as a compliment because it made him giggle for the first time in a week.
Apparently he decided we were getting off easy on this whole parenting thing. When he gets sick, Ethan does it with style. Last Wednesday night he suddenly had a fever of 102.5 degrees. I took him to the doctor the next day. At that time the only symptom of illness was the high fever. The doctor, helpfully, told me to keep him on Tylenol for the fever and call if he got worse. Worse is a mild understatement. By the time we made it back to the doctor on Monday he'd had the high fever for days, had a nasty runny nose, a cough and gunky clogged eyes.
Official diagnosis is an ear infection, a sinus infection, and the beginnings of bronchitis. He's on some lovely bubble-gum flavored antibiotics, nasty Robitussin which he spits back at me and … Tylenol for the fever. He's also being dosed with heavy amounts of Dora and "dragon movies" that his Daddy helpfully downloaded for him- on my computer.
Yesterday I managed to take a shower long enough to condition my hair. That resulted in soft, silky, static charged hair sticking out all over my head. As we were getting ready to go out the door to the doctor's office, Ethan suddenly grinned and reached over to pat my hair.
"You have hair like lion, Mommy."
I'm taking it as a compliment because it made him giggle for the first time in a week.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Andy
I believe in Angels. My angel's name is Andy.
Andy was a fighter with a smile that his mother says lit up the world. He fought off cancer and brought hope to his family. He was the best big brother in the world. In an inexplicable twist of fate and pain, he was taken from his mother's arms by the remnants of the disease he had beaten so long ago.
Andy's mother is my friend on the internet. I've never met her in person but her strength and bravery are a daily inspiration. She is a true lady.
Not long after Andy left us to be with Jesus, I lost my unborn child. I was devastated and scared and withdrew into a haze of self-pity and grief. One afternoon I had a dream that a beautiful red headed little boy stood beside my bed. He stroked my cheek and smiled. I knew in the way that you know things in dreams that this little boy was Andy. He smiled and said, "Don't cry. I'll watch over your baby. He's safe with me now."
Bless you Andy, for all your were on Earth, and all you are in Heaven.
Andy was a fighter with a smile that his mother says lit up the world. He fought off cancer and brought hope to his family. He was the best big brother in the world. In an inexplicable twist of fate and pain, he was taken from his mother's arms by the remnants of the disease he had beaten so long ago.
Andy's mother is my friend on the internet. I've never met her in person but her strength and bravery are a daily inspiration. She is a true lady.
Not long after Andy left us to be with Jesus, I lost my unborn child. I was devastated and scared and withdrew into a haze of self-pity and grief. One afternoon I had a dream that a beautiful red headed little boy stood beside my bed. He stroked my cheek and smiled. I knew in the way that you know things in dreams that this little boy was Andy. He smiled and said, "Don't cry. I'll watch over your baby. He's safe with me now."
Bless you Andy, for all your were on Earth, and all you are in Heaven.
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