A funeral, a party, calamity, and a breather

 

flowers for the urn

It took a bit to work out when to have the service for John, but the day finally came and a modest amount of family and new friends gathered for a service at St. Anthony's in Renton.  Then, virtually everyone came back to our house for a gathering.

Thankfully, the air cleared up a bit and we were able to use the deck as well as the main floor for the event.  We served a casual lunch and thankfully didn't have too much left over. 

It was lovely having a house full of people, visiting with the extended family was very nice and I thought Susie did great.  

Everyone stayed a few hours, and we had our house back around 3, a quick clean up and Jason and I melted into the couch around 4:30.  Sweet Lucy seemed eager to spend time with us and was very chatty until it was bed time. Jason might have been in the mood for some quiet time, but we know that this kid won't always want to hang out, so we listened to stories, watched them practice their clarinet, and helped with homework.  

All in all, it really worked out well and felt like a fitting goodbye to John.  It was dignified, and still fun. The inurnment for the urn hasn't been scheduled, so he's still with us.  

The family sent an incredible flower arrangement for the church, so he's hanging out in our main room.  

CALAMITY

Jas & I took Wednesday off to prepare for the service and after party.  The required trip to Costco was on the agenda, as well as prepping the house for the well-timed housekeepers.  He and I went to breakfast while the housekeepers were in the house, then came back to move the tables around, set up the deck and clear space for the incoming sandwiches and party food for the next day.

I was at the sink washing my hands or something and the entire nozzle of the sprayer broke off in my hand which caused a HUGE mess. Water was everywhere, the cupboards, my face, shirt, and the floor.  Ok, add a faucet to the Costco list.  Thankfully, replacing the faucet didn't take too long but it certainly wasn't on the list of things Jason wanted to do before the funeral for his dad.

  

because we needed a project

During the post funeral party there was some chaos going on.   It seems that when you have a house full of people, everything else happens at the same time.  Thursday is trash pickup day, but we were thankful that it was just compost and that was taken care of before we left for the service, but during the party not only did the lawn guys come but the monthly visit from the pest control guy as well.  

Additionally, we learned a very unfortunate lesson.   Small, diapered kids with lots of energy will slide down the stairs on their bum regardless of the state of a diaper.   A "full" diaper cannot withstand the bum slide and pooh will squish up and out the top of said diaper and leave a trail of residue or "resipooh."   Cousin Anton showed his deep family connection and not only jumped into action to clean the stairs, but did so in a way that made the Stanley Steamer people look like hacks.   Our stairs haven't been this clean in quite a while. 

something fun

Lastly, here's Lucy's Halloween costume.  Isn't it fantastic?  

Not a creature was stirring...wait, what was that?

Living on the greenbelt has it's perks.  No humans live behind us, we have privacy, and our urban back yard seems a lot bigger than it actually is.  That's the good news.  The bad news... vermin. 

We discovered the day after Thanksgiving that the walls in our basement storage closet were wet.  Thankfully none of the boxes of holiday ornaments nor the wedding dress storage box were impacted but it set off a journey involving emergency plumbers, water removal specialists, emergency plumbers, appointments with pest control people and third emergency plumber visit.  

We are extremely disgusted and horrified by the idea of "friends" in the crawl space and now, almost a month later feel like we might be on the winning side of this eviction.  That's not the right word for what is happening in the down under - it's murder, but the idea of living together peacefully ends when the hobos eat the plumbing lines. 

We found two newly departed mice in the basement bathroom early in the week and as we can't burn down the house had to remove their little bodies.  Congratulating ourselves on our bravery, and acknowledging that there are parts of this process that one or the other of us do better than the other, but that we need each other, we felt superior.   Well, you know that is the moment at which karma slaps you in the face.  A third little fury mouse found its way upstairs into MY OFFICE.

I saw something out of the corner of my eye and I talked myself out of thinking what I was worried about, so the "friend" got braver and scurried across the floor in plain sight.  It was "just" a mouse, but still.  SO GROSS.

What is a girl to do?  Trap that little bastard in the room, set up glue traps and remove as much stuff from the floor as possible. Again, I'd burn the room down to the studs if I could contain it, but that isn't possible and our insurance company has already said that this whole event isn't covered.  "Vermin exclusion, sorry.  No judgement."  

I'm the judgement. Per the pest people, who must be very tired of telling people that they aren't gross, the warmth of our crawl space is too much of a draw and the small framing error and water cleanout that wasn't meshed in was enough for the little family of rats to ignore.  So, we have rats AND mice.  Great.  

My new office mate did not survive the night and has moved on to the Waste Management dump in the sky, or Skyway - where ever that stuff goes when it leaves the bins.  We haven't heard anything in the walls in two days.  

The pest man just pulled into the driveway for the disgusting job of going under the house, clearing and resetting all the traps.  There's no hiding it from the neighbors... his truck is emblazoned with GotaRat.com in HUGE bright red letters.

Let's hope that by Christmas eve, not a creature will be stirring. 

Yes, I am going to blog about poop (again?)

"I poo poo in da bed mama."

"Yes you did Peanut, but that was days ago.  It was an accident.  Everything is ok."

This has been our conversation after every nap and each morning as we start our day since Saturday afternoon.

The event itself was unexpected and we certainly tried not to overreact so as not to traumatize her, but it clearly had an impact.  She was doing the normal "I don't want to nap" complaints which generally last about 5 minutes before she zonks out for two hours or so.  Jason and I had lots of tasks to accomplish during the freedom window (nap) and were moving around the house quietly but quickly.  I came in from the garage and could tell that the no-nap cries had escalated to the point where it was clear that something was wrong.

By the time I made it upstairs, I heard Jason go into her room and a second later he calmly but urgently called out "CODE BROWN, CODE BROWN."   I was behind him in seconds.  He had Lucy on the changing table and was cleaning her up.  I grabbed wipes and did a collection.  After a quick flush I went back to scoop up all the bedding and friends (damn the stuffed animals and dolls) for a mid-day washing machine field trip.

There has been some debate among the adults in the house about when and how the diaper failure happened.  It has been at least eight weeks since Lucy has removed her diaper in the bed and she has never removed a pull up.  One theory is that the diaper came off during 'the event' rather than before.  We will never know how it happened, but I think the question of why is more of a karmic one rather than logical.  Parents of toddlers must experience this at some point.

With all the bedding in the machine and the flurry of activity around getting Miss Lucy put back together the possibility of a nap was zero.  She and I went downstairs for quiet time (Curious George) while Jason tried to finish some of the chores we had hoped to knock out together.

Later in the afternoon we sadly discovered that during the rapid clean up, Jason cleaned the kid, I cleaned the bed but neither of us located the actual diaper.  These fancy diapers are filled with super absorbent gel.  Washing machines are filled with water and the two together are a very bad combination.  The 'fabric' in the diapers is not strong enough to withstand the expansion that occurs during a wash / rinse cycle.  Upon failure, the diaper released thousands of small gel balls into the machine and all over the sheets and the wet furry friends.

The newly gelled sheets and friends were taken outside shaken violently then rewashed.  I'm pretty confident that if Jason had been observed shaking the naked, wet Raggedy Ann dolls on the front porch that the authorities would have been summoned.  While the stuffed animals were being violated, the washing machine had to be wiped out and vacuumed.  All around - yuck.

I think its kind of sad that the whole event has had such a lasting impact upon Lucy.  She looks so sad when she tells me that she 'poo poo in da bed'.  I try to be reassuring and we talk about using the potty and telling us before she needs to go.  My knowledge of psychological issues is limited to about five college courses in 1989 therefore I'm no expert, but I do recall that too much emphasis on the potty process can really screw a person up.  She's so young and I think it's too early to select the issue that she'll be in therapy over just yet.  I'd like to wait longer and see what my options are, I'm sure we'll find something much better than toddler poop.

A bird in the hand is MUCH better than this

WARNING:  Parental over-sharing is about to happen.

In case you don't want to read on, here is a picture of a spooky spiderweb in the tree in front of our house.  I wouldn't want you to think that you surfed over here for nothing.

Ok, with that taken care of lets move on to what I'm thinking is hopefully the worst of the worst of parenting activities.  Lucy pooped in my bare hand.  See, now you're disgusted and wish you had clicked away after looking at my pretty spider web.

How on earth does a 19 month old kid poop on their mom!?  This is the question that I'm sure you were just noodling on, or more than likely wish you weren't noodling on.

Here's our story. Friday I was home working trying to catch up from being at the conference all week when the phone rings at 11:20 am.  The caller ID says it is the day care.  I answer without a hint of fear, heck maybe they just wanted to call to say how nice Lucy's hair looked or to remind me personally that they were going to be closed Monday.  Either way, I answer the phone "Lucy's mom".  Sigh.  It is when you are least expecting things that the the world goes wonky.

Lucy got into an altercation at day care with a member of her class (they won't tell me who) and she got bit... hard.  The little carnivore broke the skin and drew blood.   Calmly I ask if she's ok and tell Miss A. that I'll call her back in about 30 minutes.  Honestly, this was not a panic situation, but I decided to call the pediatrician just to see what they suggest.  My hope was neosporin and hugs.  NOPE.  We were given the first available appointment at 1:50 pm.  That pretty much ends my super productive work day as there is no taking the kid back to day care at this age.  Once we pick her up she is ours again.  This isn't a school rule, but a know thy toddler thing.  Eventually, she'll go to the dentist or doctor and get taken back to school, but under the age of three, I don't think it's happening. -Late afternoon or early morning appointments are my goal.  1:50 is smack dab in the middle of the day.  ICK.

Lucy's bite looked like it hurt.  While the doctor cleaned it with super special medical soap she told me that a human bite is second only to the bite of a kimono dragon or some other mystical being.  Either way, it earned Lucy a 5 day round of antibiotics.   This disappoints me because unlike liquid tylenol or advil she HATES it, so each dose is a wrestling match and this is her third round in 19 months and since eventually the virus' will adjust to the antibiotics I hope to keep her exposure low in case we run into a scenario in which it is dire.  With that said, I did not push back on the doctor in this case.  My medical degree has not yet arrived in the mail (the post is slow from Nigeria) so I deferred to my more papered colleague.

The trouble with antibiotics is that they can upset the tiny tummy.  (See, now we're getting back to the original topic.)  Our poor girl has not responded well and has had a mild diaper rash since day 2.  Since we were home through Monday I was able to keep the diaper rash to a dull roar because I'm only managing one child, whereas day care is managing 8-10.  I can spot a poopy diaper and respond instantly, but the teachers are busy breaking up the bite to the death wrestling matches over toy ownership.

Fast forward to bath time two nights ago.  Lucy won't sit in the water because it hurts her bottom.  I get her all scrubbed and clean and we're spending a few minutes (safely) playing with the tub toys on the ledge when I spot the tale tell (tell tell?)  signs of an impending poo.   We've experienced poop in the tub before, which is an unpleasant event that results in an emergency bleach of the tub, all the toys, my hands, and anything else I see.   To avert the tub contamination, my instinct was to reach out and 'take the poo' and flush it.

I don't tell you this story because I think it indicates what a good mother I am.  I tell you this story because I had an idea that poo would be part of the parenting gig, but voluntarily taking one in the hand wasn't on my list.

As I was telling Jason about it he said that he was proud of me.  You see, I'm grossed out by lots of things - snot bubbles, for one, make me gag  (GAG)  and this hits high on the gag meter.   I told him that I did ok when Lucy was throwing up and for 3 hours or more I held her while she threw up all over me.  I think I was able to do that for her because she's a small person who didn't understand.  I told Jason I couldn't do it for him.  He disagreed and then said 'if I was really sick you could do it, now if I pooped in your hand that would be a different story."  INDEED

I think we can all agree that the marital vows did not, do not and never will include adults pooping into the hands of their partners.  I don't even think it needed to be said - but I am glad we are crystal clear on that front.

So, there's my gross story.  Today is Lucy's last dose of the bad liquid, we have no rash left to speak of and last night she sat in the tub while having her bath.  Things are back to normal... until the phone rings again.

Maui, Mommy & Morning Sickness

DON'T FREAK OUT... WE ARE NOT HAVING ANOTHER BABY.

Morning sickness refers to our girl.  Wednesday, I got a call from "school" at 3:00pm saying that Lucy was sick.  When this has happened in the past the "sickness" has been mostly hooey - a cranky girl who REALLY needed to nap, or a not nice, but not medically concerning diaper rash.  However, when they call, I go.

When I arrived, she was not wearing the super cute outfit from the morning and when I looked in her cubby there were not one, but two bundles of her clothes in plastic bags.  She seemed perky and happy.  I noticed that the schools 'mega stroller' (this thing holds 8 kids!) was outside and one of the teachers was wiping up "stuff" from two stations.  Apparently, Mason got sick in the morning and was sent home, but whatever he had going on in his sad tummy had already been shared with Lucy and one other classmate.

They took the kids to the park in the mega stroller without knowing that the bug had spread.  They knew pretty quickly once the kids starting giving back their lunches.  That must have been one sad and stressful walk back to the school.

As I said, Lucy looked fine.  She wasn't hot or cranky.  However, halfway between school and our house (it's less than 2 miles) she threw up in the car seat.  Poor little peanut, she was strapped in an it was a big throw up. I pulled over to run back to "help".  I didn't really have much to offer other than kind words and to help her lean forward.  I guess it's the mommy equivalent of holding her hair back while she threw up.

Once we got home I we took a quick bath, changed into pj's and then made our way downstairs onto a cozy (yet easily washable) quilt.  Lucy then threw up every 15 minutes for about 3 hours.  It was sad and we were both a stinky mess by the time dad got home.  She was super tired, so we gave her a second bath and an new clean set of pj's.  She went to sleep without any fuss.  I popped into her room about every 20 minutes to make sure she was sleeping on her side or at least not face up.  I had fears of her throwing up in her sleep and not having the awareness to spit it out.

Lucky us, she slept like a champ and woke up hungry and in a good mood.  Banned from school I had to take the day off and with a kid who didn't act sick we had a play day.  I did have to cancel my long planned, pre-vacation hair cut and color, but I suppose these are the things that we do for our kids.  Lucy woke up early and in spite of not acting sick, took a two hour nap at 7:30 am.  Later, after some food and a snuggle we packed up for a trip to Costco and then Safeway.  (My overly ambitious plan was Costco, Ulta, Target and Safeway, but that didn't work out.)  That afternoon, after a regular food lunch, Miss Lucy napped for another two hours. She was happy and her tummy was quite calm.

Back to school she went yesterday.  Mason was there but his mom restricted his diet to crackers and juice.  Holy heck mom, aren't you aware that your kid is an EATER?  He's a sweet boy, but he would eat from the time he woke up until he fell asleep if you would let him.  He has no "full" button.  (Lucy has one and it looks like "hey I'm done here, so I'm putting the rest of this onto the floor.")  So, with Lucy back on a regular diet, her breakfast of fruit and bagels were pure torture for Mason.  He stood at the high chair and practically begged for food.

Lucy did seem tired yesterday and didn't nap well at school.  She had a yummy dinner of chicken, orange peppers, strawberries and some string cheese and then took a quick bath and off to bed.   It was only 5:20 and we knew it meant that she'd be up early today (5:11am) but keeping her up just so we can sleep in until 6 is not ok.

Over night, she made NO noise.  She seemed to be sleeping like normal.  However at 5:00 am I heard her fussing (not crying) I went to get her and immediately upon opening the door could tell something was really wrong.  Sometime during the night she had thrown up her dinner and instead of crying for help, she went back to sleep and it was everywhere.  I felt so bad, because it smelled terrible, she must have been uncomfortable with it on her pj's and in her hair.

Since John & Susie are here, we opted to keep her home from school today and we are nursing a happy kid with a sensitive tummy.  She only wants to drink milk which could be an issue, but at least it's liquid. She's on a diet of toast, pears, apple sauce, and bananas.  She took a nap this morning and I'm confident we'll get another one this afternoon.     Having extra help is great because I can still nurture her and they are having fun playing with her.

We leave for Maui tomorrow morning and I am of course conflicted about leaving behind a child that is not 100% well, but she is in excellent hands.  The time they are spending together today (with me popping in and out) will make for a smooth transition.  Leaving her here is far less stressful than if we knew she was not feeling well and we were going to try to take her with us tomorrow.  The idea of a mildly sick kid on a five hour flight curls my toes, and not in a good way.

We are packed and checked in.  I am VERY excited about the trip and looking forward to the "idea" of sleeping in.  It won't happen because we are programmed to be up at 6am, but at least we'll be waking up to the sounds of the ocean and not a much loved but early riser baby.

Parents of the year

Jason, hands down, wins husband/dad of the year award for taking care of Lucy while I was sick.  Granted he didn't really have a choice, the simple act of getting up to do anything would cause my fever to spike and I had to change pj's multiple times during the weekend simply to avoid the chills.  (Sweat through the pj's then get cold because of the wet items.)  But, he made it ok for me to sleep the illness off without any guilt that he was tired or needed a break, and for that I'm very grateful.

Here's a parenting secret that no one wants to say out loud - no matter how much you love your baby it is exhausting to be "on point" at all times.  Her needs come first, and you don't realize how much you need 10 minutes to collect your own thoughts until you don't have 10 minutes.

There is a fair amount of guilt when you have feelings of relief when the baby finally takes a nap and you can sit and 'veg' for a moment.  There is (internal) pressure to get the house spiffed up or take care of those things you can't do while the baby sleeps.  Sometimes this works.  Case in point, Sunday while Lucy napped Jason and I were able to put up the holiday lights on the front of the house.  When you're solo parenting, you need that nap time to rejuvenate yourself.  Sometimes it doesn't work, when I was sick, nap time was a much needed dad break.  Our house was a messy land of bottles, toys, half sorted mail, un-stowed groceries and other evidence of projects half completed.

I know that I have a good partner because he didn't complain about this weekend of solo parenting nor did he think it was a burden.  Parenting is something we knowingly signed on for and it is fantastic when there are two of us to make it easier, but both of us are aware there will be times it is a single parent activity.    Ages ago, I heard the husband of a friend say he was "babysitting" and my girlfriend flipped out a bit and had to remind him that he was not babysitting, but parenting.  Technically it is just a label, but for my friend the difference was the implication that his being "on point" was unusual.  It has been over 10 years and this man has showed himself to be an excellent father, so this verbal misstep wasn't a critical parenting fail.

Before the baby came, we did lots of reading and a common theme came up over and over. Parents are tired.   "I feel like I haven't slept in 15 years", "I haven't slept the whole night through since 3 months before the baby was born", "I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow."  I would confirm that indeed, I like these parents am tired, but it is not an overwhelming weariness that some of the girlfriends described.  I'm thankful for that, especially since I'm doing this parenting thing 10-15 years later than most of my peers.  I was worried that the 'tired factor' would be like a fog that would plague me every day.

Now for the reason that I get parent of the year.  Last night we had a bathtub / poop situation.  I thought the grossest thing I would have to deal with in relation to blow outs that escaped a diaper, or boogers.  Oh boogers are so very icky.  <gag>    Lucy is so happy in the tub, she loves to slap at the water and chew on the float toys. Bath time is a great way to spend 30 minutes with a tired girl at the end of her day.  I really do love it and while it oddly conflicts with my need to be doing multiple things at once, sitting on the floor by the tub is a treat.  Last night, well, not so much.

I went to get a towel (2 feet away from the tub) and came back and she was making the "intense" face.  I knew what was happening, but my options were slim.  I could freak out and grab the naked, wet and actively pooping child and put her on the floor, in the clean towel I just grabbed, hold her in mid air or I could let her finish and then take her out of the tub immediately.    I chose the last option - it seemed the least messy.  I did try to scoop up the toys (but ended up bleaching them all anyway) and wash cloths that were in the water.

Poor Lucy - once she was done she knew immediately that things were not right.  I mean, normally there is poop and it stays in the diaper until Mom or Dad make it go bye-bye.  It is very contained and she never has to see it.  She was unhappy with the situation and did not mind the quick extraction from the tub.  I got her cleaned up, a sponge bath after the bath, dressed and then took her down to dad (who was making me dinner).  Then I had to come back and clean it up.  I considered just moving to a new house, but the idea of packing up all those DVD's makes me nauseous.   When I was done, the tub was properly cleaned and the bleach smell as abated as of this morning.   The cleaning fairy comes Friday  and she may be cleaning the cleanest tub in town, but that's OK with me.

I used the "sanitize" mode on my fancy washer for the first time (towels, rugs, wash cloths, my shirt) and I feel safe in that the situation has been contained.  Lucy doesn't seem traumatized, which is nice.  I would prefer for her not to have poop hangups.  I'm a bit traumatized but I guess that is to be expected.

Logic says there will be something MORE disgusting in my future, but I'm thankful I can't imagine what it might be.

I feel confident that this month, Jason and I have earned our 'parents of the year' badges.  Someday, when Lucy is 15 or 16 I'll retell the poop in the tub story in front of some new friend or maybe even a boyfriend.  Oh, I can't wait.

Art Day at School

Getting a bath after the art project

The babies at school created art that extends beyond the white canvas.

This is not a normal bath!

Damn it Momma, put down the camera and help me.

Fine..but you will pay for this later!

I didn't get to "school" in time to see the babies on the paper, but Miss Miriam assures me we will get pictures. When I arrived Lucy was getting a 'shower' and was PISSED. I think the love of water does not transcend to sitting on her naked bum in a steel sink.

Lucy is orange in spots and I hope Dr. Robin doesn't think she's an Oopma Loompa.

Weiners, Liars & Cheaters...oh my

Boys, boys, boys...

Get it together, and by that I mean keep it in your pants!  This simple advice was called out to my prom date as we left his house my senior year.  It didn't make me feel like a princess, but the advice was reasonable.  There are times when you have no business showing your business to others. 

I know, it can be confusing to know when and where certain behaviors are allowed so I've laid out what I think is common sense that might be helpful to you:

1) If you're married and the person you want to show your business to is not your wife or your doctor... the answer is NO.

2) Unless you're being paid to be in a quality magazine like "The Dicks of Capital Hill" don't photograph your penis.

3) Unless it is your only source of income never EVER post images of your penis on the Internet.

4) If you think what you're about to do could cost you your job, that is a strong CLUE that you shouldn't do it.

5) If you have to hide from the media, this is another CLUE you're on the wrong path.

6) If the Onion.com is writing articles about you, you have already screwed up.

7) If you're married and you meet someone who turns your soul on fire, deal with your wife FIRST.  If this new thing is true love, it will still be there after you respectfully deal with the woman who has stood next to you during events like the death of your child.  (You're a slimy douche bag John!)  Word to the wise Miss thing...if he's willing to knock you up while his wife is unaware, don't expect him home for dinner every night.  I think the "once a cheater, always a cheater" line might actually be sound information.

8) If you're a Republican and FOX news is calling you a douche bag you've gone to far.  The same is true for MSNBC and you Democrats. 

9) If you've commented on the morals of others as part of your campaign platform then you should refrain from having sex with the maid, sleeping with your photographer or twittering pictures of your pee pee.  

10)  There is no such thing as discretion when having sexual encounters with anyone but your committed partner. 

Bonus Point  11)  It doesn't matter how 'important' you are, if the woman says no or you have to force the issue it is RAPE.  They teach that rule pretty early here in the US and I thought it was a similar understanding in other civilized parts of the world.  By the way, attacking the character of the woman you've (allegedly) sexually assaulted is a dirty play.  She cleans toilets for a living, do you really expect us to believe that she's running an on the side call girl business? 


So, do you want to know who I think is classy?  Al and Tipper Gore.  They sadly ended their marraige without any (credible) evidence of wrong doing.  They announced together that they were done being married and then both quietly moved on to their own personal lives and we don't have to hear about it.  While I hope they both have new hot lovers making them eggs in the morning, I hope we NEVER have to hear about it.

The rest of you...well, like Danny's dad said:

KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS!

Potty Politics

I recieved a fictionary submission from a friend:

Not sure if you have this one, but I thought you might want to enter
it into your fictionary....

Spontaneapoo --when you think you only have to pee, but it turns out
you need to poo

It's the only explanation I can think of for the ladies who use the
first stall in the bathroom.  WHY do you want everyone to walk past
your smelly stall????  I don't get it!
 

hmmm.... I've never considered moving father into the restroom to poo.  It seems that I've been missing a key social skill.  Thanks mom for never teaching me this. How embarrassing.

I select my stall based on the following criteria:

1) availability
2) cleanliness / paper availability
3) not next to an occupied stall (if possible)
4) not the handicapped stall (unless there's no other option)
5) not the one with the crazy high seat (I'm short and hate it when my feet don't touch the ground.)
6) one that someone just didn't step out of
7) I try to avoid the second stall in the row because I saw a show on bathroom cleanliness and they said that stall #2 is the one with the highest use.

I guess now I have to add a criteria based on what I'll be doing in the stall.  Life is so complicated.

Still all about Lucy

It's official, I am a mom. Last night Lucy sneezed 5 times in a row and I noticed a little squishy booger in her right nostril. In spite of the fact that boogers make me gag I used my pinkie finger to dig it out. (gross!). This may seem trivial to you, but I had a seed of doubt that I would be able to rise to this monumental occasion.

Sure, important things awe happening in the world. Lybia is a quagmire, we're still involved in fighting for freedom in Afganistan (and Iraq). Social Media has recently aided in the takde down of dictatorships and Charlie Sheen has launched his Self-destruction tour around the US. These things are relevant and many will likely be remembered for years to come, but are they really more important than a new mom who conquered her disgust over boogers for the sake of her small child?

Jason listened to my tale of triumph and then asked if I thought I could deal with the full on snot bubble that is an inevitable part of owning a toddler. I'd like to say that I said yes, but truth be told I gagged at the thought of it. Seriously, snot bubbles are gross. I fear the day that I have to manage the runny nose. Ack!!!

More Lucy Pictures

Close up

 Here we are in our 3rd week of life with Lucy and I have to say it is going well.  She is mostly happy and thus far reading the cues of what she needs is something we've been able to manage.

We're soaking up the time off together with Lucy and somehow are not missing work at all.  Our 5 & 8 week work time outs will be gone before we know it.

We are working to transition Lucy to the crib in her room.  She's in there (now) for most naps and when grandma & grandpa L leave we'll switch to night time too.  My desire to wait is that I'm worried it will take me some time to get use to the monitor vs. hearing her live and I don't want her to go to a full on wail before mommy gets her sleepy butt out of bed to help the darling child.

Not so close up.

Lucy is happy in the morning.

The umbilical cord (ick)

Last night was an excellent sleep pattern, except for the fact that Dad woke up for Lucy's 12:30 feeding, but Lucy was not interested.  She was asleep in her bed and only he was awake -- until he woke me up.  It took a moment to convince him that she was sleeping and that it was ok to go back to sleep.

At 4, when Lucy was awake he tried to get up but it must have hit him at a deep REM sleep pattern because he sat up then promptly fell asleep in the sitting position.  Had I really needed him he would have rallied and been the middle of the night rock star that he is capable of being, but I had it covered (code for I didn't need to use the restroom or pump) so I told him to go back to sleep.    He did the same thing for me a couple days ago at 6am and I slept until almost 9... it was glorious.  This teamwork thing is fantastic!

Our 2 week Pediatrician visit yesterday was good. Lucy weighed in at 8 pounds 1 ounce, so we're officially off the "you're starving your child to death" list.  Whew!  We go back at 2 months for shots and a general check up.  So far, it looks like Child Protective Services will be leaving us alone.   I hear the signs of cooing on the monitor... must go parent.

Sometimes I forget...

You would think that after all the time that has passed after my weight loss surgery that I would remember that I have to be careful what I eat.  That is not the case.

Today I made myself ill by consuming a banana nut muffin.  It tasted really good, but the gummy nature of the muffin and (I'm guessing) the compromised tummy due to the baby caused me to feel immediately sick. 

Throwing up isn't a desired action, but the muffin wasn't going "down" so it had to come up.  Its moments like this that I'm thankful I work at home.  I was able to lay down for 20 minutes and recover.

With a newly cleared tummy I'll be focusing on my water intake. I'm still puffy in the legs - and believe it or not, the cure for water retention is MORE WATER.  Seems counterproductive, but I'll take a full bladder over these stumps.

I don't see myself as Big TP anymore, but I can not eat the way I use to, no matter how much time has passed.  Most of my eating habits are just that, habitual and don't feel strange anymore.  Last night I ate half of my chicken sandwich and a few of the super yummy fries and brought the remainder of my dinner home.  Two hours later when I was hungry again I ate most of the second half of the sandwich.  When I first had my surgery I felt sheepish about dining in public and the amount of food I was either taking home or leaving behind.  Now, I realize that most restaurant portions are enormous and the fact that I make a dent is enough.  Smart ordering also helps take focus off my plate.   It has been ages since I've been asked if my food was acceptable or since the server has offered to not charge me for the food I'm not eating.  (I only let that happen once, and my meal WAS very much undercooked.)



Thankfully, my issues with food digestion don't happen too often.  Usually it is related to sugar intake (I had to break up with ice cream) which may have contributed to the "return of the muffin" and I will remember the sugar issue for a while.   Some treats have to be consumed.  The cake that Jen left behind had to be sampled.  I did make an effort to have a tiny portion, but alas...even the wafer thin slice was too much for me.   The beautiful and tasty cake has been removed from the house and I'm better for it.


So, there is new item to the list of foods to avoid:  Costco banana muffins.  They are tasty, but not kind to me. 

For the record, even after all this time and these issues that pop up I'm still very happy I chose this route.  Being reminded from time to time that what I put in my face still really matters isn't a bad thing.  I know I'm going to have some work to do after Lucy comes, but I'm up for the challenge.  I will get my body back!  Heck, if you believe the pro-breastfeeding hype, I should be back into my pre-pregnancy shape within months.  (I actually think it will take more than a few months, but I'm willing to work at it.)

Slight topic change:  I'm listening to the big iPod, but must be on some strange music play list because I just went from a Rush song to a Christmas carol.  I must do something about that. I can't handle the musical diversity.

One day at a time

Feeling much better.  Still not hungry, but I forced myself to eat lunch as the baby needs nourishment.

I did shower and get dressed in real clothes.  Yesterday I went from my sleepy outfit to clean pj's to and yet other set of clean pj's for bed. Exciting.  I felt pretty good yesterday but had a couple sessions in the restroom with the throwing up.

Today, at almost 3pm I'm happy to say that there has been no vomiting (or the other issue) and I've been able to focus on work all day (until now that is.)

I'm hopeful that I'll be able to leave the house today.  I have no agenda but am kind of sick of these walls. 

The only lingering effects are very sore ribs, a house that didn't get any attention over the weekend and I feel like I want to take a nap every time I do the stairs.  Part of the stair exhaustion is simply the breathing issue, but that's the baby not my virus.    We did pack the hospital bag yesterday, which only took me an hour to pull together 1 set of clean loose clothing, 2 pairs of socks, lip balm and my toiletries (which were already put together)

I'm so thankful that this event didn't occur next Friday or the baby shower that's taking place here Saturday would be a total bust (and really not a safe place for my lovely lady friends.)

Sometime over the next 5 days there has to be a housecleaning and while I'm jazzed that Friday is a housekeeper day, we must remember she only does the kitchen, floors and two bathrooms.  Picking up the blankets and sweaters and sock debris from the tv areas are my own responsibility.  (boo hoo)  Damn my inability to carry a pile of items back to their homes on each trek up the stairs. 

No matter, Jas will help with the house organization and chair movement to the family room.  He doesn't want a gaggle of my friends to think we never sort the mail (we don't but no one needs to see the pile on the kitchen island.)

That's it for now, thanks for your concern and we'll be back to baby watch 2011 shortly.

Yuck

Well that was a rough day.  I was up at 4am and hit with what I'm assuming is (was) a virus.  Vomiting and the lesser fun expulsion of 'stuff' from my person started shortly thereafter. 

I moved to the couch in our loft to avoid waking Jason (and to be in a bathroom far far away).  At 7:30 I heard him get up and then go back to bed.  I assumed he would see I wasn't in bed, but the pregnancy pillow is a perfect body substitute (make a mental note if you're ever going to try to break out of prison, the pregnancy pillow and some hair and you can fool the guards into thinking you're still in your cell.)

What I didn't know is that he didn't go back to sleep, he was quietly entertaining himself (NO, not that, the airplane game) waiting for me to wake up.  When I got up to use the restroom he was confused and then alarmed by the lights and then the oh so lovely sounds of hurking in a far away room.

Once we established that we were both up, I came back to bed to tell him what was going on. By this time I was worried because my attempts to stay hydrated were failing.  Drink water then throw up water.  Repeated over and over again.   Dehydration and being 9 months pregnant is a bad combination.  It can throw you into early labor. 

We called the on call OB who suggested strongly that we make our way to the hospital to get checked out and to get an IV.  Those of you who know me know I'm not one to lightly run to the hospital, but I didn't hesitate.  We were up, dressed, cleaned up, freshly vacated for the ride over and gone.

I have to give Jason some serious credit for holding it together as he drove me to Bellevue.  I know he was worried, and me with my bucket wasn't too pretty.  Once at the hospital they put me to bed, asked me to provide a urine sample (couldn't.... that should tell you how "dry" I was) and then started the IV - but not until I threw up for the nurse.  Actually, I don't think she was waiting for me to throw up, but the IV went in about 2.4 seconds after I did it.

We were there about 90 minutes and with the fluids and the anti-nausea shot I was feeling better.  I was cleared to go home by the doctor (whom I never saw, but I'm sure will bill us anyway.) 

Imagine my complete disappointment when I continued to require the use of my trusty bucket in the car on the way home.  Again, way to go Jason for not giving up a sympathy hurl in the car.

I was put on a diet of bananas, rice, applesauce, toast and told to drink either Gatorade (plain or anything without red dye in it) or vita water.  I went to back to bed and Jason headed to the store to bring back all sorts of food that I'm clearly not capable of eating.  (I survived today on a piece of toast, 2 bananas and 2 applesauce servings.)

I finally got out of bed and wandered downstairs at 4pm with high hopes that this little bug was gone.  No such luck - I go from feeling ok (at my best today a 7 on a 1-10 scale) to a 5.  5 is much better than the 2-3 I was hovering at on my way to the hospital.

So with a day on the couch and in bed behind me, my wonderful caregiver is asleep and I'm not sleepy.  I hoped that some time on the computer and maybe tv in the loft would bring me back to the groggy place and we will see.  Right now, I'm drinking more Gatorade and about to sign off.

Our friends, who were over on Thursday, who enjoyed their own bout with this bug that night (and therefore could not have known they were carriers) said it was gone in 24 hours.  That leaves me with 5 hours left of semi-misery.  Actually, misery is overstating it at this point, but I do wish I was tired.

I think Church is a doubtful activity tomorrow.  My goal (still) is to pack my hospital bag - there was a moment this morning when I thought we could have this baby today and I'm not ready.  I'll never really be ready, but I can have my bags packed and the stuff Lucy will need to come home.

A party, a red headed slut and a red nosed girl.

We zipped off to Denver for the weekend. We were there to visit Jason’s parents and to celebrate the 80th birthday of a dear family friend.


Mrs. B was one of the Southmoor Park Denver ladies who made the trip out for our wedding. Her attendance was made all the more special because of the fact that she lost her “Mr. Wonderful” in June. Trust me, when someone of her spirit and situation grabs you on the arm, pulls you in and says “pay attention to every day!” you listen.
Mrs. B is a tiny woman with a very formidable presence. She is a surrogate grandmother for Jason and her love of Jason and his family is clear. We will be lucky to find someone like her in our own neighborhood. She says it like it is and is a true lady.
She told us at Easter last year to save this weekend for her 80th birthday party, so we made sure to book a ticket as soon as we were able.

She’s been having trouble with her back and had surgery earlier in the year. At almost 80, complications are not unusual but she has been determined to celebrate her birthday in style. Last week she experienced what was described as unbearable pain in her back and so she called 911 for assistance. Before the fire department could wisk her to the hospital (well, actually,they waited with her while a transport company came to take her to the particular hospital that she insisted on going to) she invited them to her party.
Here’s a clue as to how likeable and what a strong personality that she has, during the party there were no less than ten members of the local fire department that came to the party. They were on duty, so they were in uniform and arrived on their trucks. This delighted the kids at the party to no end. It was if the Pied Piper arrived because at one moment all the children simply disappeared. These patient fire fighters were giving tours of the truck and letting the kids blow the horn. Thankfully, most of the neighbors were at the party, thus the blasting of the horn was likely not a major disturbance.

No less than 200 people were invited to the soiree and it was lovely. She even had a band tucked into the corner of her living room. Mrs. B knows how to party. We’ve privately agreed to attend any party she throws.

In addition to this fun event we also were able to have dinner with some of the local family and friends. We dined one night at this place called “The Perfect Landing.” This little restaurant is at the other Denver airport, the one where the private jets land. It was rather fun seeing these expensive corporate jets take off and land while we enjoyed our meal. Over dinner the discussion turned to cocktails and someone mentioned having something called a “Red Headed Slut.” Well, let me tell you this, I’m so very thankful that I’m pregnant because we ordered one and it was horrid.

A “Red Headed Slut” is a drink made with equal parts of jaggermeister and peach schnapps and a dash of cranberry juice. It is NOT good. We passed one around the table and I had a sip and then happily tossed it aside. I’m not a fan of licorice flavored beverages, jagger, uzo or anise are not common flavors in my world. Those of you who like it amaze me.

We also spent some time with the soon to be grandparents, who tipped their hands that they are very excited about the impending arrival of Miss Lucy. It was sweet to see their excitement in person. We ventured out to Babies R Us for a showing of the thus far selected baby items (the pack n’ play, rocker and other items that no baby should ever have to suffer without.)

On an overly personal note (as if I never go there) I grew a rather large pimple on the top of my nose. My attempt to resolve it has resulted in a Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer situation. This morning in the shower I rubbed the wash cloth across my face too aggressively and scrubbed off the scab. The amount of blood was frightening. In fact, I haven’t seen so much blood in the shower since the movie Psycho. (Becky wins the award for the most blood in a bath tub in an unfortunate leg shaving incident while in college.) I worried that I was going to need a Band-Aid across my face, but thankfully I bled out before I had to leave my room. I do feel like quite the grown up at my conference this morning with a cute scab on the top of my nose.

I'm just talking

In spite of disturbing dreams, I slept so well last night. Normally, when I’m in San Jose I don’t sleep well the first night away from home. Maybe the being pregnant thing has something to do with the sleeping, but I haven’t been sleeping well at home.

I fall asleep early and then wake up around 3:30 to give my bladder a rest and then more often than not, I’m up for at least an hour. It isn’t as if I’m processing big deep issues, I just am not sleeping. Adjusting to having to sleep on my side is also a challenge. While I generally fall asleep on my side, I almost always wake up on my back. (Check the other blog for the reasons why back sleeping is bad!)

So, the point of my super exciting post is that I feel rested! Woo Woo. All of my other Seattle co-workers are flying out tonight so I’ll be on my own for dinner. Since I have a rental car I think I may venture to a new location tonight. I understand there is a mall nearby. Oooh, shopping! I should probably get my fill of solo shopping before there is a small person living in our house who will refuse to stay home alone until they are 13. Selfish little brat.

Shopping with Jason is different than shopping alone. He’s very patient and excellent about looking for a specific item. If we’re on the hunt for an outfit for an event he’s the guy I want along, but if I’m shopping simply to shop, then I feel a need to be speedy and not linger. It’s internal pressure, but I’m kind of looking forward to cruising the aisles with nothing particular in mind. I’m sure he feels the same way, I know he enjoys the rare trip to Lowes or Fry’s without me tagging along. I’m always welcome, as is he on my outings because everything is better with him (gag) . Ok, I even made myself a little sick on that one. Sorry about that.

I guess I should stop before you throw up your latte all over your shirt. Be warned though, our 1st anniversary is coming up and I’m working up a “I’m still so very very very happy” post. Feel free to skip it if you hate hearing how grateful I am for my good fortune.

The 80's are dead. Here's proof

Yowza... that's some creative writing!

It's the last two comments that made Mr. Bell, my beloved high
school English teacher, roll over in his grave.

 


There are some possibilities for fictionary words here:
 
NOTMINDE: a drunken way to say "I'm ok if you do that." 

YEARD:  A lawn so big it takes 12 months to mow.

TROUIST:  A person dedicated to pants, from the root trouser.

HAPPEY:  What happens to a puppy when it is excited and you pick it up.  "Oh damn, that dog just happied all over my shirt."

TURISTY:  The technical term for bad masterbation skills.  "Sorry Timmy, you can't be in our circle jerk anymore, you are turisty for us and you are making a mess."

Jason's Broken Toe

New Layout...

Do you like it?   It says summer to me.

The other thing that screams summer is my back that is finally peeling. It is disgusting and awful.

This weekend, we will be out and about in the SUN again and I will be covered.  Not only because I don't want to leave bits of my dna everywhere but this new skin underneath needs time to fully form before I subject it to the sunlight.

I'd show a picture of my back - but it is very unattractive.

More later on our patio situation.