back in touch

I'm back online and oh so happy to be here.


Also making me happy this week:

- Laughing at Wheel of Fortune with Chip. I blame my mother for it. She watched it religiously when she was here and we just sort of ... got used to it. Now 7pm hits and we're laughing at Pat and Vanna and trying to guess the puzzles. There was a total Wheel savant on there tonight (College Week) and we couldn't get over his facial expressions. Do you remember when the winning contestant would go shopping after each round? Dude, what a RIP OFF. I remember wondering about the $750 lamps. Now they just give away cash and trips. I bet there are more than a few old contestants who have bored their family to death with the whole, "I was on Wheel in 1980 and won $10,000 and all I have to show for it is this dumb couch."

- Overheard from the living room: Fergus, don't eat the chair!!!

- Alice Alice Alice (we've got lots of chewing on fists this week)

- We're headed to Philadelphia (yes, all three of us) in 11 days. Chip has to go for a workplace seminar. Alice and I are tagging along. I'm a wee bit nervous to travel with a 2-month-old baby. That's all I have to say about that.

- Have I mentioned being back back BACK online???

bomb clock

I'd had a pretty good list of blog topics in my head. It was starting to rival the list of blog topics I had in my head pre-Bean's arrival, and that's saying something. (I used to compose these little in-head blog entries on the bus - sure, it looked like I was daydreaming but see I was composing which is so much better...)

Somehow there was a cosmic connection between our hard drive and my blog brain because they've sort of vanished from my head. Pfft - gone.

I absolutely hate reading blog entries where the blogger is all I have nothing to say! Read about how I have nothing to say!

And yet here I am. Doing just that.

I'll tell you this: the hard drive situation is beyond horrid. I HATE not having a computer except for the few minutes when I can hijack Chip's laptop. Actually, the feeling I have about the laptop is very similar to how I feel about doing so many things these days: like I'm on borrowed time. You know those count-down clocks they have on bombs in the movies? The clock is counting down 30-29-28-27 meanwhile our hero is sweating profusely, trying to evacuate the building and it's super super SUPER tense. I feel like that from the minute Chip gets home from work. I hand off the baby and then race around the house, trying to update the blog, write in Bean's journal, check email, do some dishes, do some laundry, pump. All the while I'm looking in on Chip with Bean, telling Chip that I'm almost done - I'll be right there - just one more minute.

What's stupid about this is that he has never given me reason to think that he's watching the clock in any way. He's happy to take her, happy to spend time with her, happy to change diapers. I have wondered lately if this rushrushrush feeling is part of the New Normal.

Speaking of count downs... I hear a baby that needs me.

hard drive addendum

I should have added the obvious consequence of the hard drive crash is that I'm totally without internet until Chip comes home with his laptop at night. Ugh.

the day the hard drive died

My parents and my younger brother and his wife were in town this weekend. There is a particular vortex of bad juju that follows my parents when they visit us here. I won't go into too many details - but in the past we've had things like head injuries (to my cousin who was watching their dog while they were out of town) and particularly heinous sleeping experiences. This trip didn't disappoint. Apparently Russia blessed us with some kind of cosmic death weather and we had SNOW, SLEET, HAIL, THUNDER AND LIGHTENING, and have I mentioned SNOW??? IN APRIL??? It was colder here than it was in Utah where they live. Luckily they were all good sports and they made the most of the trip.

One of my favorite random memories from this trip was from Friday evening when I was driving my parents and Bean to pick up dinner. It had been snowing for some time, and I kept trying to explain that Seattle snow is VERY DIFFERENT from Utah snow. It's so much heavier, for one thing. And secondly, it's extraordinarily wet. This makes for some pretty slippery conditions while driving. Not to mention that we Northwesterners just aren't that used to the snow anyway. So, um, we don't really drive in it all that well. Yours truly most definitely included. I can manage to run into a telephone pole on the flatest of streets (true story). I try to avoid driving in The White Stuff whenever I can. So - here I am, driving my mother and father around in April Snow Death Watch 2008 and I'm telling them about how we have to be so careful. And already we're slipping and sliding all over the place. Meanwhile I have my brother and his wife following us in a rental car. The bro is no slouch with the Extreme Driving (for the sake of our relationship I do not sit in the front seat when Little Bro drives - it's just better for EVERYONE). This is seriously the longest introduction EVER to tell you that Winston just kept telling me to drive ZIPPY. As in, Whimsy - just zip on in there! Take no prisoners! You can do it! Zip! Zip! ZIPPY!!!

Anyway, the weekend was awesome despite weather heinousness, the Little Bro getting a speeding ticket, and a particularly unfortunate experience at Red Robin.

The Little Bro also did some doctoring of our PC. HOURS of doctoring. And then this morning, our hard drive just up and DIED. DONE. OVER. ENDED. MAKING HORRID NOISES AND THEN PLLLLLLUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

How was your weekend?

return of thankful thursday

There is no shortage of bad news in the world. Even when I'm not actively seeking it, it finds me: in the grocery store, overheard conversations, the newspaper headlines, news homepages on the web, in everyday conversation. I feel covered in it, and it seriously affects my mood. It's hard to feel good about life when the world itself seems poised for implosion.

These days I try to turn from it - to protect my ears, my heart from the soul-sucking damage of Too Much Bad News. I have a feeling that hiding out isn't the answer. It's probably more along the lines of finding balance. Being aware of the darkness that is lurking outside my door while also giving thanks for some of the most precious and beautiful things that I have in abundance.

A few for today:

- Emily's surprise visit last night. Chocolate shakes & help with the dishes notwithstanding.

- The smell of Bean's head. A strange and wonderful combination of flowers, baby lotion, and milk.

- The way Chip talks to Alice when he's changing her diaper. I've never heard him this way before, and it's wonderful.

- My two hands. I am grateful to have them and all that they help me to do.

6 weeks

She is making new sounds. There's a funny Woody The Woodpecker-like gurgle that is so weird we laugh every single time we hear it. There is a range of grunts that are especially noticeable when she's nursing and is not happy with how she's situated. She also grunts when we touch her or move her when she's in a deep sleep and is particularly comfortable. It's like the GO AWAY grunt.

After a few close calls, we most definitely received our first Real Smiles yesterday morning around 6:30 a.m. when Miss Bean was snuggled between Chip and I in bed.

She loves to be held and cuddled.

Fergus and Phoebe continue to be very concerned when there are long bouts of crying. They tend to hover in Bean's general area looking to us to FIX IT - FIX IT NOW!!!

We found a genuine Bean Hair nestled into one of her blankets on Sunday. It was about an inch long. I think it's too early to invest in Hair Club for Men.

She loves taking baths, and especially loves the part where we let her kick kick kick in the water. The peeing on the parents before or after bathtime is just a bonus.

Her cheeks are so chubby we can't help to just kiss them all over.

She has genuinely sausage-shaped toes.

She is starting to make that wonderful baby Ahh-ahh sound. Heaven must be full of this sound.

I've been keeping a daily journal for her, writing bits of about the things she does each day. It's amazing how many firsts a person can have. First bath, first smile, first car ride, first shot at the doctor's office, first episode of peeing AND pooping on parents. She is full of firsts and we don't want to miss a single one of them.

She had her first trip to the park this past weekend. There were many suspicious looks given to that bright orb thing in the sky. I also changed her diaper while we were there, and she spent a significant amount of naked time on the blanket. Chip laughed that we'd have to tell her about her nudist tendencies when she gets older.

She loves to sleep on Chip's chest.

When Chip is bottle-feeding her in the evening, she spends long stretches of time just staring at him.

There are moments when my heart feels full-to-bursting with love for this little creature. And then a day passes, and she looks at me in a new way and I feel like no, it's this moment when I can't possibly love her anymore.

true story

Once upon a time I had an indescribable, larger-than-life, oh-my-word oh-my-word I need need NEED hunger for (drum roll please)

fish sticks.

I know. I know. And this was (embarrassingly) before I was even pregnant. Chip was traveling a lot for work, people, and I found myself wandering the grocery store aimlessly after work. I had been left to my own devices and so yes, dude, I BOUGHT A BOX OF FISH STICKS.

As soon as I came home they were put in the freezer and never thought of again. Well, never thought of again until, say, Chip opened the freezer and saw the box and started in on the INVADER INSIDE OUR FREEZER WHAT THE HECK CAME OVER YOU TO BUY FISH STICKS CRAZY LADY???? I might have mentioned, in my defense at the time, that I couldn't eat them because we didn't have any tartar sauce. So what did Chip do? He bought the darn tartar sauce, of course (proof that my husband is both crazy with the logic as well as a perfect angel).

He bought tartar sauce. Tartar sauce that is still sitting (unopened) in our refrigerator door.

Two years later...
At some point during her visit, either The Wife opened our freezer and spied the fish sticks, or Chip helpfully mentioned the fish sticks. Either way, it led to this whole conversation about them, and made me think of the Universal Law that I'm calling The Principle of the Fish Sticks. It goes like this: When one spouse purchases something (fish sticks or dare I mention GOJI BERRY JUICE, CHIP???) - something that is never going to be consumed, even when the purchasing spouse assures the non-purchasing spouse that, indeed, it's totally going to be consumed at some date in the future - when this happens, the non-purchasing spouse absolutely will NOT throw the offending item away, no matter now long it resides in the refrigerator. The purchasing spouse, of course, cannot throw the item away, for that act would signify both DEFEAT as well as WASTEFULNESS. (And isn't it just better to just house the item indefinitely? Yes. Yes, I think it is.)

The bottom line for me is that the fish sticks are really more like members of the family. We've adopted them. You can't EAT members of your family. And you certainly don't throw them AWAY - even when they are taking up space in the freezer.

Now tell me, we can't be the only ones who do this. Do you guys have any 2-year-old fish sticks living in your freezer? (Or, I don't know, have ancient Goji berry juice that was the lynch pin in a new and improved health regimen for someone in the Whimsy household and yet there it still sits in the back of the fridge?)

tales from labor and birth class, part 5

Alternate title could be TRIUMPH OF THE WILL: HOW WE FINALLY GOT CINDY TO LAUGH

This post is in response to Sunday's poll - the winning story was our last birth and labor class. However, for y'all that are dying to hear about my misadventures with The Wife and henna - stay tuned. It's too good of a story to leave it untold.


When we last saw our heroic couple, they had braved four birth and labor classes which came packaged with an instructor that appeared to HATE them on principle. As we look in on them now, we see Chip and Whimsy toddling through the hospital parking lot to their last birth and labor class. The class that has been dangling like a sugar-coated carrot, egging Whimsy on, promising the long-awaited HOSPITAL TOUR - including an in-depth dissection of the special Birth Suites. These Birth Suites are so fabled, so mythical, so coated with GOLD and DIAMONDS and a shiny shiny BRIGHT LIGHT in Whimsy's mind, she is nearly BREATHLESS with anticipation. That, or she is just 8-months pregnant and hobbling around like a deformed weeble wobble. She is not yet aware that her baby is breach.

Whimsy walks through the hospital entry alone, as Chip is sprinting across the courtyard to drop off the numerous pillows, water bottles, and home accoutrement in the classroom. They have been instructed to do this since the tour will take place in the first half of class time, after which everyone will return to the classroom for what has been promoted to be "a full run-through of an entire labor and birth".

Whimsy spies someone else from the class, and says to this lonely pregnant woman WOW ARE WE THE FIRST ONES HERE? I'M REALLY IMPRESSED WITH US. They proceed to chit-chat as Whimsy thinks about how much skinnier this woman is than herself. All of this leaves her head when she sees that the entire REST of the class is walking toward her and Lonely Pregnant Woman. Of course, Cindy is leading them. It appears that Whimsy was Doing It Wrong and waited in the wrong place.

Cindy spends a bunch of time going Blah Blah Blah about Stuff. Because we are looking back on this experience, it is difficult for this narrator to really REMEMBER what was said exactly. Whimsy looks bored and her feet hurt. She and Chip ask a couple of questions that Cindy lowers herself to answer. It is an awesome experience. Whimsy says something totally witty and hilarious (which has been totally forgotten, of course)*. Cindy seems to warm to our heroes. For the first time in FIVE WEEKS Cindy uses our adorable couple as an example for something GOOD. (Previously our couple has only been used as an example for what NOT to do, or to simply say NO whenever they suggest an answer to a question.)

The entire class is now clomping through the hospital. They are brought to the entrance of the Family Maternity Center. Whimsy's heart thrills with anticipation. Before long, they are entering the doors of the FMC and are brought to the entrance desk check-in thing. There are lots of instructions which the narrator will not venture to recount. Because it would be even more boring than this recap already is - and also because (once again) the narrator DOESN'T REMEMBER. It should also be pointed out that there was no helpful second visit to any of this area by Whimsy and Chip except for the first hour of Bean's birth day. Remember: Whimsy and Chip had a c-section, and Bean was born in an operating room and then whisked up to the fifth floor. Whimsy never saw any of this part of the FMC after this tour. She was a bit sad about it, but got over it as soon as Bean was placed in her arms. Funny how that happens.

There is a tour of the FMC - highlighting wonderful bits like the "family rooms" where there are televisions and comfy chairs for family members to hang out in if they are not in the birthing rooms. There are also lovely little kitchenettes with FOOD that can be EATEN. It appears to be FREE (which is cause for much whispering by the entire class, since they are quite aware that NOTHING IS FREE IN A HOSPITAL, NOT EVEN THE KLEENEX FOR WHICH YOU WILL BE CHARGED $49.87 PER SHEET). This portion of the tour is extraordinarily surreal, as Whimsy and Chip keep thinking about how the next time they're here, they'll be giving birth to their beautiful little daughter. There are a couple of teary eyes.

Now the class enters the birthing suite and while it seems a little small, it is, indeed, beautiful and sweet and comfy and bathed in a truly rosy light. Everyone is encouraged to gather round the bed. Whimsy is excited to procure a small chair to sit in. Her feet are killing her. (The narrator may have forgotten anything that was said, but she is quite firm about remembering the pain of the feet.) Cindy is now pointing out the benefits of the room, and starts edging closer to the bed. Chip smiles at Cindy for some unknown reason - and Cindy CALLS CHIP OUT OF THE GROUP AND ASKS HIM TO BE THE DAD-TO-BE. She is not positioning Chip in various places on the birthing bed, showing how different parts of the bed can be removed to accommodate different positions for labor. Chip is hamming it up. People are smiling! People are laughing! It appears that the class DOES have a sense of humor! Chip is now... trying to hide his horror as Cindy is now having him perch high atop the raised bed while she (Cindy - pseudo mom-to-be) is stepping BETWEEN HIS LEGS and showing how the laboring mom can use the dad on the bed for support while she (Cindy/woman touching Whimsy's husband/pseudo mom-to-be) leans against him and squats. It is... disturbing. And the look on Chip's face is priceless. The narrator will remind the audience that Chip is a bit squeamish about germs. And about people who haven't been very nice to his wife. He is masking his irritation well, as he starts making faces as Cindy is sort of squatting below and in front of him. Whimsy whips out the cell phone and attempts to take a picture. The moment is lost! The camera did not cooperate! Chip and Whimsy are both Very Sad.

When the tour is over, the group returns to the classroom for what has been promised to be a full run-through of labor and birth. It is, sort of. It's also a QUIZ involving FLASH CARDS and SITUATIONAL QUESTIONS. Chip and Whimsy... SAIL THROUGH THE ENTIRE THING, ANSWERING MANY OF THE QUESTIONS OUT LOUD - CORRECTLY. There is much joy and celebrating.

And then Cindy passes around a sheet inviting everyone to a class reunion in a couple of months. Whimsy and Chip laugh, for they know they will NOT be attending a class reunion. They will, however, be getting to know K and her husband A and eventually their adorable daughter S. Because they turn out to be totally fantastic and Whimsy and K talk on the phone every few days comparing notes.

The End


* Whimsy reminded the narrator what Totally Hilarious and Fantastic thing she said to Cindy that made her laugh and finally broke the ice. Whimsy talked about watching the NOVA documentary In The Womb when she was five months pregnant and how it actually brought on a Panic Attack and Chip was forced to stop the movie (STOP THE MOVIE! STOP THE MOVIE! I CAN'T WATCH ANYMORE! STOP THE MOVIE!), and then he opened all the windows so Whimsy would start breathing. He finally had to take Whimsy on a walk outside to get her to return to sanity. Yes. True story.

object of her affection

While it's technically true that the cats are still adjusting quite nicely to sharing their domain with Bean, there have been a few developments that have raised some warning signs. Not so much: we're going to blow up the house while you are out; more along the lines of you're walking a very thin line - you have been warned.

To wit:

I think this is catspeak for DUDE YOU BETTER BE BUYING THE GOOD CRUNCHIES OTHERWISE NEXT TIME THIS WILL BE YOUR FAVORITE SWEATER.


Today Bean noticed, like really NOTICED one of the cats for the first time. (She also has that dreaded newborn face rash.)


And the object of her intense gaze:


Notice Phoebe's slightly hunted look. Do you think she knows toddlerhood is coming?

mobile

This post is brought to you by the beloved MOBY which will be receiving his own stocking at Christmas because hotDOG - Alice is allowing me to DO THINGS while I carry her around in this here mechanism. AND THIS IS DURING THE ALL FEEDING, ALL THE TIME HOURS OF 11 AND 6. PRAISE BE!!!

Because of this development, I am junking up the routine I have of posting at night, writing this darn thing smack dab in the middle of the day. Lucky you.

Thank you so much for all the suggestions and offers of help for both the daytime feeding/mommy sucking frenzy as well as my general state of dishevelment. You're the best, really, you ARE. I'm giving some of the suggestions a try (see above re: baby wearing and all its glory). I will report back on our progress.

Here is my report so far (see how efficient I am?): Moby = bought me an extra HOUR of time, but we are both quite sweaty. It's not a bad exchange. Plus, I get the bonus of hanging out with Alice while we're both fully dressed. It's amazing!

Speaking of which, Miss Alice is now awake and desiring her afternoon refreshment.

Moby out.

classy class

DISAPPOINTING NEWS - I went to my first mom & baby class today. And it ROCKED. I say it was disappointing because I was really hoping, for your sakes, that it would be some kind of wonderful tragedy that I could then share with all of you, kindly mocking all of the weirdness while extoling the virtues of perfectly fabulous me and angelic Alice. Instead, we got a very nice instructor/moderator woman who DOESN'T APPEAR TO HATE ME. We also got a nice group of women and babies who were both friendly and helpful. I'm so sorry. I tried.

I'm going to continue the class. We compared notes and also had a baby-wearing demonstration. (Let me just say that the mocking and irritable part of me totally wants to take the whole BABY WEARING term and notion to town - but in truth, I think it's awesome. We have a Moby and love it. I will refrain from telling you how a certain other member of the Whimsy household -who is not Whimsy- also wears Alice around in the Moby, but closes all the blinds and windows before the wearing commences, and will also fling it off in under 3 seconds flat if someone rings the doorbell.) Anyway. Because it's all women, it was fine to breast feed Alice (we were in the middle of the Daily Alice Feeding Frenzy, so access to boobs was a necessity). My newest New Mother Hurdle is the whole attempt to wrangle the baby and feed the baby when outside the house. When I'm home, I have all sorts of props and accessories to rely on for feeding and the like. When outside the house, say, in a hospital conference room surrounded by 20 other woman and babies, the feeding and manipulation of baby, nipple shield, and blanket become pretty challenging. I SURVIVED, AND SO DID ALICE. We are celebrating around here, let me tell you.





Class = pretty great. I'll keep you posted if today's venture was an exception.

sleep cycles

Voting continues for Friday's belated story... go here to cast your vote.

It's the weirdest thing... I realize that I haven't talked much about the nuts and bolts of Life with Alice. I don't know why, exactly, other than I worried it would be boring or sound indulgent or open up all kinds of ways for y'all to tell me that I'm Doing It Wrong (not that you really would do this - you're such a kind and polite lot).

Anyway, I'm ignoring any previous misgivings to talk to you about sleep, the lack thereof, and feeding a newborn. I'm going to apologize now if this scares any of my first-time pregnant readers. Because DUDE.

When we first brought Alice home, she had already lost some weight. She was just an itsy thing to begin with, this loss of weight wasn't optimal. By the time of her first check-up, she had lost almost 10% of her body weight and they put us on a crazy 2-hour feeding schedule. This was in addition to extra feeding measures like supplemental formula fed to her through a tube and syringe that we were instructed to slip into her mouth while she was breastfeeding - using the glorious doodad known as the NIPPLE SHIELD. (Girl was chewing the life out of my nipples.) None of this was easy. There were moments at 2 and 3am when it was Chip and I freakishly hunched over my own nipple, me holding a crying red-faced newborn while we attempted to fashion the Engineering Masterpiece comprised of nipple, nipple shield, tube (of the aforementioned Tube and Syringe fabulousness), and baby's lips - somehow ensuring that the tube (of the Tube and Syringe combo you've heard so much about) was correctly winding up through the nipple shield and into Bean's mouth and not back down UNDER the nipple shield where it would then fountain a delicious combination of formula and breastmilk into my unsuspecting lap. I am surprised that Chip and I didn't kill each other. And this WAS NOT ALL. Add to this a requirement for me to pump for breast milk after each feeding - you know, to establish my supply... Let's be logical now. When a baby is on a 2-hour feeding schedule, it means that you're counting the two hours from the beginning of one feeding session to the beginning of the next. If the feeding session lasts, say, nearly an HOUR and you put the baby down to sleep after changing her diaper, you're giving her maybe 45-minutes to sleep. After which, Mama is then pumping for breast milk for 15 minutes (add on a few extra minutes for set-up and for clean-up). This leaves Mama MAYBE 20-30 minutes of sleeping time. And that's if Mama literally leaps into bed after pumping. Which isn't realistic. Mama needs to do little things like pee and eat and maybe even SHOWER. This goes on ALL DAY and ALL NIGHT. By the time I'd done this craziness for 3 days, I was completely unhinged. I found myself crying to the lactation specialist that I just COULDN'T KEEP THIS UP MUCH LONGER PLEASE SAVE ME. They extended Bean's feeding schedule to 3 hours.

In time, things got better. Bean started gaining weight. We discontinued the tube/syringe business (and promptly burned the entire contraption and then ran over the ashes with our car - repeatedly). Eliminating the tube/syringe madness QUITE LITERALLY SAVED OUR MARRIAGE. We finally allowed poor Alice to feed on-demand and sleep for more than 45 minutes at a time (choir of ANGELS).

Our whole system has leveled out some around here, and I'm feeling a bit more human. I can speak nearly complete sentences! Our nights are much more manageable. Alice seems to now understand that night means night and it's sleepy time. She usually goes down around 11:30pm and then sleeps through until 4 or even 5am. At this point, Chip changes her diaper and brings her to me. He goes back to sleep and I feed Alice. I can usually get her back to sleep around 6 or 6:30am and we both sleep for another 2 hours. It isn't too bad. A person actually can get used to sleeping in 2-hour increments.

My biggest challenge is during the day. This is where I'm begging for ideas, suggestions, and the gladly welcomed Oh I went through that too. When Bean wakes up at 8:30am, I feed her again and she'll usually go back down until 11/11:30am. In this 2-3 hour window I attempt to eat breakfast, get ready for the day (ha HA), do laundry, clean up any dishes, pay bills - generally try to take care of my day's business because once she wakes up at 11am, all bets are off and Alice becomes THE BABY THAT WILL NOT STOP EATING. When she wakes up, I change her diaper. She is smiling and happy and wonderful. We play. We have tummy time. We do whatever household stuff mommy can do with one hand. I sit down to feed her. And then I don't get up again for 6 HOURS. Do you think I'm kidding? K came over the other day and couldn't believe that in the time she fed, cuddled, changed two diapers, got her little cutie down for a nap, ate lunch that Chip made for us (what a great guy), and had a thoroughly enjoyable visit, I was still feeding Bean.

I have done the whole thing of keeping her awake, trying to keep her alert to drink her fill. She just keeps eating. When she does sort of pass out, the second I put her in her bed - she's awake, alert, and if I try to leave her in her bed for a bit, she cries. And it's not a bored cry, a tired cry - it's a HUNGRY cry.

Has anyone else had this happen? What a great Dear Abby this would be: Dear Abby, I have a 5-week-old infant stuck to my boobs for 6 hours every day. What's a girl to? Alice is an angel of a baby. She is the easiest baby first-time parents could ask for. She is seriously perfect. So I feel bad even mentioning this marathon feeding business. But at the same time, I can't help but feel like I'm missing something. Either everyone goes through this and they just keep is a lovely GROUP SECRET, or I'm just wonderfully lucky that my baby is addicted to my boobs. I don't think this is a growth phase because it's been going on for 3 weeks.

Her doctor has checked her out, and she's perfectly healthy. She is gaining weight in all the right ways, and everything looks good. She just has a bottomless stomach and a very efficient waste management system.

If anyone needs me between 11 and 6, you know where I'll be.

audience participation

I am guilty of not delivering on some stories that I promised to tell. I am also totally indecisive.

So what do I do? I leave it all up to you.

Voting begins now and will run through Thursday - I'll tell the winning story on Friday and leave the other(s) for another day.


On the ballot:

The Darker Side of Mendhi:
Wherein during her trip here, The Wife and I both get henna designs on parts of our bodies by a very crunchy granola earth mother lady AT HER HOUSE and there is both hilarity, much more Whimsy skin exposure to the outside than I will EVER be comfortable with, and tiny bits of dried henna strewn around the house.

Our Last Birth and Labor Class:
Wherein Chip quite suddenly WINS THE HEART OF UNFRIENDLY INSTRUCTOR CINDY and also becomes the model for using the birthing bed. Have I mentioned that we used NOTHING we learned in Birth and Labor class? NOTHING.

Wild Card:
I have seriously lost track of some of the stuff I promised to share... so if you remember something particular that just seemed beyond fantastic, comment about it and we'll include it in the voting. (Something I haven't forgotten about is Bean's birth story. That is still coming. I PROMISE - but it's not included in the voting.

Ready, set, GO!

stripes of more than one kind

Fergus spent the entire day yesterday sleeping in the laundry basket of CLEAN clothes. I didn't have the heart to make him move. Apparently neither did Chip when he called me upstairs last night, showing me how Fergus had managed to burrow down a good six inches into clean clothes. Life for the cats hasn't been that bad since Bean's entrance. My mom spoiled them horribly, even though Phoebe wasn't on her best behavior. I had been worried about the cats and their reception to The Great Intruder, but they seem to accept that (in Chip's words) I've had a kitten of my very own. Or something like that.

Speaking of Alice, she was one month old yesterday. We did not put any sort of birthday candle on my breasts (is breast feeding humor totally off limits?). However, we did call attention to the fact that she's getting ready to graduate to size 1 diapers in the next week or so, and it makes me a little bit sad. Even the size 1 diapers seem ginormous to my eyes.

Lastly, I'm feeling more at home with Fergus these days because I've developed stripes of my very own, in the form of the dreaded STRETCH MARKS. I was suckered into buying some sort of miracle stretch mark cream a couple of months ago and it's done jack for my stripes. There they are, in all their angry red glory - mocking me as I continue to slather on various creams and gels and lotions. I know they're going to eventually fade to a silvery flesh color, WITHOUT ANY HELP FROM THE EXPENSIVE CREAM. I had thought I'd avoided the stretch marks until about week 33 in the pregnancy when they seemed to blossom overnight. Note to my first-time pregnant friends: if you think you've avoided the stripes, don't get cocky. Life has a way of knocking you back a few if you get too het up on your own self. Be humble in your acceptance of your non-stretch marked self and hope for the best.

I'm going to go spend some time with Fergus (he has abandoned the laundry basket today in favor of our bed). I've got to make some notes on how he makes stripes so cool.

Have a GREAT weekend!

outdoorsy

The following entry isn't funny, interesting, or enlightening. You have been warned.


Chip got home early today and is out aerating the lawn. These are the exciting things that top my mind lately. He has Alice out there with him - apparently she is to learn the importance of lawn maintenance early.

We are still working on the whole Getting Out Into the World concept. How do people DO IT??? I've developed something of a system - but the system requires me to have at least 90 minutes of prep time before we can leave the house.

In an effort to branch out (see above re: Getting Out Into the World), we're going to start attending a weekly moms and babies class next week. It's for moms with babies 0-3 months. I am secretly hoping that it gives me some good blog fodder, because after this post, I'm ready to poke myself in the eye from sheer BOREDOM.

Anyone have any good weekend plans? We're meeting up with my friend Mary and doing (gasp) LAUNDRY and also staying home. CAN YOU STAND THE EXCITEMENT???

ten minutes

In ten minutes I can:

- Eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner
- Prepare a lame breakfast, lunch, or dinner
- Brush my teeth, wash my face, change into PJ's, and generally get ready for bed
- Load the washer and dryer for another round of laundry
- Take the shortest nap on the planet
- Take out the garbage
- Go to the bathroom, wash my hands, and resume breastfeeding Alice

I cannot, however, write a blog entry. And because 10 minutes is all I have tonight, you get THESE instead: