I've just decided that I'm going to have an imaginary friend. Oh yes I have. I was out tonight with the homeschooling moms, and one of them said she was always so pissed at her sister's imaginary friend because her sister would list all these horrible things the imaginary friend was doing to her, but she couldn't fight back because she couldn't see her, and I had the sudden epiphany that I needed one. She will have a name that is great and terrible and she will help me get through my day. I'll let you know how it goes.
I am so tired and forgetful. I'm having a hell of a time sleeping for no particular reason. If I'm dead beat, why can't I sleep? Worse than being tired, worse than forgetting how to talk, is the fact that twice tonight I forgot I had the baby daughter in the car with me. Both times I was still in the car and on the road, but I realized that it would be totally possible to get out the car and forget she was still in there. It was like those times when you're driving and you can't remember the last ten minutes of the proceedings.
Yeah.
So.
I'm thinking I'm going to write on the window with soap marker "Got Kid?".
This bad witch is going to bed,
ephelba
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
My Daughter is Hard C0re!
Dude! She stayed up till midnight last night, and probably would have stayed up later but I had pity on her when she started signing "blankie" over and over. At six this morning I got her up and she kept going until about 11:30 before she took an hour long nap.
Wish I was so perky.
These shenanigans were for the purpose of getting good results on her EEG. I was worried she would cry and scream at the sight of the room and a person in scrubs. She, in fact, did. Then the nice lady sat us in a Comfy Chair, and I didn't assume the blood-draw position, so the Bean knew something was different and she became content to glare at us suspiciously. The lady was a pro and the Bean didn't cry anymore. Yay!
As for the results- wait and see. As usual. I stared hard at the screen whilst the test was going on so I consult the oracle when we got home. Having done my usual google fest I am very confident that most of the test went just fine. There were a few spots that I remember wondering about at the time because they looked different than what was usually going on. Having not been trained in this sort of thing I can't really say it was good, but I am positive that it wasn't really bad. How's that for a convoluted thought.
On another note, the hubby says he doesn't so much like being referred to as the hubby. I shall therefore attempt to remember to call the hubby "The Mister" instead. He likes "the mister" much better than "the hubby". Notice I got to call him "The Hubby" four times just then:)
On yet another note, someone put up a flier a the post office. It had a picture of the cutest chihuahua/jack russel puppies for sale. I want a puppy. Simon says we can't have one because it would get lost in the mess. I said I would clean the house if we could have a puppy. Simon just laughed. I don't think there will be a puppy.
There won't be a baby either. Simon went and got a vasectomy last Friday. We waffled for a bit the night before. There's something sad about knowing you're done having babies, because babies are the best. They're better than puppies even. When you think about how great they are and how much you love the ones you have you begin to think you want more. And then you remember being pregnant. And how hard it is to get anything done. Including making more babies. And you realize that sometimes what you need isn't more.
So.
If we can make it for a few months without getting pregnant we're home free. I freely acknowledge this is a large "if", given my history, but hopefully nursing will be some protection when other protections fail.
On the last note, my state governor got busted for fucking with hos. Swell.
Wishing I lived back in MI,
ephelba
Wish I was so perky.
These shenanigans were for the purpose of getting good results on her EEG. I was worried she would cry and scream at the sight of the room and a person in scrubs. She, in fact, did. Then the nice lady sat us in a Comfy Chair, and I didn't assume the blood-draw position, so the Bean knew something was different and she became content to glare at us suspiciously. The lady was a pro and the Bean didn't cry anymore. Yay!
As for the results- wait and see. As usual. I stared hard at the screen whilst the test was going on so I consult the oracle when we got home. Having done my usual google fest I am very confident that most of the test went just fine. There were a few spots that I remember wondering about at the time because they looked different than what was usually going on. Having not been trained in this sort of thing I can't really say it was good, but I am positive that it wasn't really bad. How's that for a convoluted thought.
On another note, the hubby says he doesn't so much like being referred to as the hubby. I shall therefore attempt to remember to call the hubby "The Mister" instead. He likes "the mister" much better than "the hubby". Notice I got to call him "The Hubby" four times just then:)
On yet another note, someone put up a flier a the post office. It had a picture of the cutest chihuahua/jack russel puppies for sale. I want a puppy. Simon says we can't have one because it would get lost in the mess. I said I would clean the house if we could have a puppy. Simon just laughed. I don't think there will be a puppy.
There won't be a baby either. Simon went and got a vasectomy last Friday. We waffled for a bit the night before. There's something sad about knowing you're done having babies, because babies are the best. They're better than puppies even. When you think about how great they are and how much you love the ones you have you begin to think you want more. And then you remember being pregnant. And how hard it is to get anything done. Including making more babies. And you realize that sometimes what you need isn't more.
So.
If we can make it for a few months without getting pregnant we're home free. I freely acknowledge this is a large "if", given my history, but hopefully nursing will be some protection when other protections fail.
On the last note, my state governor got busted for fucking with hos. Swell.
Wishing I lived back in MI,
ephelba
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Today.
Today I woke up exhausted. Not because anything major or exciting happened last night, but because the little one woke me up right smack in the middle of a dream. I had been explaining how not to be a racist prick to a white guy, but he wasn't listening to me, so he turned into a black guy. Then the baby was fussing and I was awake and desperately tired. I wake up slowly at times like this.
The Bean peeked over the edge of the crib.
"Shra shruh shra shra?"
Which is apparently how she says "You awake?"
The dog heard her, and in a typical fit of morning glee came bounding up over the bedclothes to nurfle me. A few seconds of that and she bounded off again. The Bean squealed with joy. I called the dog back and the Boy heard me, so both the dog and the Boy showed up to get into the bed. I kicked Boy out to get the Bean, and now the morning crew was all accounted for.
The Bean crawled over me and laid down on my chest to snuggle for a bit. The Boy commented on the freakish boniness/wrinkliness of my elbows. The girl got up to see what was going on in the living room. The Bug growled. The Boy moved on to express dismay at discovering I was wearing granny panties and hilarity at my double chin.
I kicked him out.
After feeding the Bug I got out of bed and went to feed the Bean. She seemed happy to eat granola, which made this morning much easier than those that involved fixing her various breakfasts for her to play with. Those mornings suck, because if she doesn't eat she gets cranky. The Bug lay in her car seat and (surprise!) growled. The Boy began to work on English. He ended up coming out to the kitchen to have a snack and watch the Bean while I took the Bug into the living room for some floor time. She growled at the floor while I checked my email and RSS feed. I discovered a new blog, and read a bit. Boy said the Bean was done eating, so he cleaned her up and got her down.
The Bug was tired, so I took her into the bedroom to sleep. I put her pacie in her mouth and sat down on the bed next to her. The Bean came in to jump on the bed, and I suspect when I left she pulled the pacie out of the baby's mouth. Which made the baby fuss. Which meant I had to go back. Which meant the Bean followed me in there to see what was up. I went through this loop at least three times before I noticed what was happening and just brought the Bug out to the living room for her nap.
The Hubby called.
The Bean played.
The Boy read.
I read.
I picked up the living room a bit, but not as much as I wanted to.
I fed the Bean some lunch.
I rinsed the ketchup/body paint off the Bean and got her dressed for the Speech Therapist.
I fed the Bug again.
The speech therapist came.
The speech therapist left.
The Bug and the Bean went down for a nap.
The Bug got up, and the Bean hasn't been to sleep yet.
And then I blogged. Not that you've read anything terribly interesting as a result. I just was in a mood. I've been in a mood lately. The mood to sleep. The mood to play chase with the Bean. The mood to be warm in the sun. What I need is to be in the mood to clean house, pay bills and organize shit.
I find myself wondering what it would be like to live in New Mexico. I imagine it is warm.
Not having to imagine snow,
ephelba
The Bean peeked over the edge of the crib.
"Shra shruh shra shra?"
Which is apparently how she says "You awake?"
The dog heard her, and in a typical fit of morning glee came bounding up over the bedclothes to nurfle me. A few seconds of that and she bounded off again. The Bean squealed with joy. I called the dog back and the Boy heard me, so both the dog and the Boy showed up to get into the bed. I kicked Boy out to get the Bean, and now the morning crew was all accounted for.
The Bean crawled over me and laid down on my chest to snuggle for a bit. The Boy commented on the freakish boniness/wrinkliness of my elbows. The girl got up to see what was going on in the living room. The Bug growled. The Boy moved on to express dismay at discovering I was wearing granny panties and hilarity at my double chin.
I kicked him out.
After feeding the Bug I got out of bed and went to feed the Bean. She seemed happy to eat granola, which made this morning much easier than those that involved fixing her various breakfasts for her to play with. Those mornings suck, because if she doesn't eat she gets cranky. The Bug lay in her car seat and (surprise!) growled. The Boy began to work on English. He ended up coming out to the kitchen to have a snack and watch the Bean while I took the Bug into the living room for some floor time. She growled at the floor while I checked my email and RSS feed. I discovered a new blog, and read a bit. Boy said the Bean was done eating, so he cleaned her up and got her down.
The Bug was tired, so I took her into the bedroom to sleep. I put her pacie in her mouth and sat down on the bed next to her. The Bean came in to jump on the bed, and I suspect when I left she pulled the pacie out of the baby's mouth. Which made the baby fuss. Which meant I had to go back. Which meant the Bean followed me in there to see what was up. I went through this loop at least three times before I noticed what was happening and just brought the Bug out to the living room for her nap.
The Hubby called.
The Bean played.
The Boy read.
I read.
I picked up the living room a bit, but not as much as I wanted to.
I fed the Bean some lunch.
I rinsed the ketchup/body paint off the Bean and got her dressed for the Speech Therapist.
I fed the Bug again.
The speech therapist came.
The speech therapist left.
The Bug and the Bean went down for a nap.
The Bug got up, and the Bean hasn't been to sleep yet.
And then I blogged. Not that you've read anything terribly interesting as a result. I just was in a mood. I've been in a mood lately. The mood to sleep. The mood to play chase with the Bean. The mood to be warm in the sun. What I need is to be in the mood to clean house, pay bills and organize shit.
I find myself wondering what it would be like to live in New Mexico. I imagine it is warm.
Not having to imagine snow,
ephelba
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
For my kiddos...
Ok, I've got 10 minutes that I'm going to spend blogging here, let's see if I can finish the thought I've been having...
I've been thinking that several women who I would assume feel comfortable with children do, in fact, not. I assumed they would because they have adult children. I have no idea how they managed, given the level of discomfort they display now.
I've also been surprised by how much other women forget about when they had children. I ask questions about cloth diapering or whatnot, thinking they would know, and I'm sure they did at one time, but the memory has faded.
So now I'm thinking I better leave some notes, or my kiddos will be asking me questions and I'll have forgotten, and it will be a shame, because the baby phase is one part of mothering I feel I'm very good at.
With that in mind, Notes to self regarding the first three months:
The whole goal for these months is to learn to eat and sleep. If you end up feeding formula for some reason, then the eating thing has probably gone well. Breastfeeding is trickier. I will assume that La Leche will be there for my daughters and daughter-in-laws, and leave the advice giving to them, with the caveat that it isn't supposed to hurt much, and if it does, seek help fast before it gets worse.
Burping isn't half as necessary as some people seem to think it is, but it does work wonders if you've got a spit-upper. Simply laying the kiddo down and setting them up, putting them face down on your knees and patting them, or putting them high on your shoulder for the patting works when the usual method doesn't seem to be accomplishing anything. If they don't burp, they fart, much to the hilarity of the adults present.
As for the sleeping- if you can teach your kiddo to sleep when it's dark, and to (mostly) put themselves to sleep by the three month mark, you're doing well. I recommend having the baby sleep in your room, although not necessarily in the bed. You want them to be close enough that you can keep an ear out for them, and so that you don't have to go to far when they want to nurse. Of course you'll bring them to bed to nurse, but the trick is to put them back in their own spot when you're through so they learn they don't need you in order to sleep. Swaddling is good, and so is rocking or swinging or bouncing. Of course, these are crutches your kiddo will be using to sleep, but I think if you're careful it doesn't have to be a big deal. For example, I put the Bug down for her naps by swaddling her and putting her in the bouncy seat. I give her a pacie if she fusses. I only bounce her to sleep if she's really fussy or it's really crucial to me that she sleep Now- like if she wakes up at two in the morning. Other babies like different things- the Bug likes me to stroke her face above her eyes, but the Bean likes to lay on her belly and get her butt patted (which, in a younger kid, means you have to roll them over onto their back after they go to sleep...)
As for "Sleeping through the night"... all most people mean by that is their baby lets them sleep 5 hours at a stretch, and your baby will do that once a night when they grow enough that they can skip a feeding. Alas and alack, some kids wake up every night till they're six, others sleep for an eight hour stretch at two months old. You have to go with the flow, to a certain extent, but a five hour stretch by three or four months of age is a good goal.
I let all my kiddos into the bed with me when they need to be comforted, but I kick them back out when the crisis has passed (or the b00b emptied). It works the best for us. Back when I was a single mom I let the Boy stay in bed with me more than I let the girls, but even he had a crib that he started the night in.
Wow. Ok. That was poorly written, but at least it's down. If I get the chance I can always rewrite, right? In the meantime I've got things to do...
Off to scale Mt Laundry,
ephelba
I've been thinking that several women who I would assume feel comfortable with children do, in fact, not. I assumed they would because they have adult children. I have no idea how they managed, given the level of discomfort they display now.
I've also been surprised by how much other women forget about when they had children. I ask questions about cloth diapering or whatnot, thinking they would know, and I'm sure they did at one time, but the memory has faded.
So now I'm thinking I better leave some notes, or my kiddos will be asking me questions and I'll have forgotten, and it will be a shame, because the baby phase is one part of mothering I feel I'm very good at.
With that in mind, Notes to self regarding the first three months:
The whole goal for these months is to learn to eat and sleep. If you end up feeding formula for some reason, then the eating thing has probably gone well. Breastfeeding is trickier. I will assume that La Leche will be there for my daughters and daughter-in-laws, and leave the advice giving to them, with the caveat that it isn't supposed to hurt much, and if it does, seek help fast before it gets worse.
Burping isn't half as necessary as some people seem to think it is, but it does work wonders if you've got a spit-upper. Simply laying the kiddo down and setting them up, putting them face down on your knees and patting them, or putting them high on your shoulder for the patting works when the usual method doesn't seem to be accomplishing anything. If they don't burp, they fart, much to the hilarity of the adults present.
As for the sleeping- if you can teach your kiddo to sleep when it's dark, and to (mostly) put themselves to sleep by the three month mark, you're doing well. I recommend having the baby sleep in your room, although not necessarily in the bed. You want them to be close enough that you can keep an ear out for them, and so that you don't have to go to far when they want to nurse. Of course you'll bring them to bed to nurse, but the trick is to put them back in their own spot when you're through so they learn they don't need you in order to sleep. Swaddling is good, and so is rocking or swinging or bouncing. Of course, these are crutches your kiddo will be using to sleep, but I think if you're careful it doesn't have to be a big deal. For example, I put the Bug down for her naps by swaddling her and putting her in the bouncy seat. I give her a pacie if she fusses. I only bounce her to sleep if she's really fussy or it's really crucial to me that she sleep Now- like if she wakes up at two in the morning. Other babies like different things- the Bug likes me to stroke her face above her eyes, but the Bean likes to lay on her belly and get her butt patted (which, in a younger kid, means you have to roll them over onto their back after they go to sleep...)
As for "Sleeping through the night"... all most people mean by that is their baby lets them sleep 5 hours at a stretch, and your baby will do that once a night when they grow enough that they can skip a feeding. Alas and alack, some kids wake up every night till they're six, others sleep for an eight hour stretch at two months old. You have to go with the flow, to a certain extent, but a five hour stretch by three or four months of age is a good goal.
I let all my kiddos into the bed with me when they need to be comforted, but I kick them back out when the crisis has passed (or the b00b emptied). It works the best for us. Back when I was a single mom I let the Boy stay in bed with me more than I let the girls, but even he had a crib that he started the night in.
Wow. Ok. That was poorly written, but at least it's down. If I get the chance I can always rewrite, right? In the meantime I've got things to do...
Off to scale Mt Laundry,
ephelba
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Oh Ho!
I bring you a waster of time.
I found this because I'm up late reading. I say reading, but I really mean consulting The Oracle (aka the internets). The Bean has been doing some very odd things, leading Simon and I to have this conversation a lot:
"That was a seizure."
"She's fine.
...
...
Do you think she had a seizure?"
"That's totally a seizure"
"She's fine."
She has a Doctor's appointment next week,so barring a really obvious seizure-y event, we'll have a big fun visit then, I'm sure, complete with EXTRA FUN BLOOD DRAWS YEAH BABY! I don't want her to have to have any more of those. No sir. It just makes me sick. I have to be the big bad mom and hold her down, then I have to be the strong comforting mom who gets her to stop screaming.
I'm sick of having to do hard mom and strong mom things. I'm also sick of all the uncertainty that being Bean's mom seems to require. No one's certain why she doesn't talk. Whether she'll have other learning problems. This visit will be more of the same. I'll describe her spells and no one will be certain if they're seizures, and tests will have to be done, and even if they decide they were seizures, chances are no one will know if she'll have more, or if they'll be getting worse or better as time goes on. No one will know if there's a connection between one thing and another. I'm sick of it.
I'm feeling slightly "sick" anyhow. Like I'm at the end of my tether, but for no real reason. I'm getting my stuff done, but I feel like I've got something hanging over my head. Like I've got a paper due tomorrow and I haven't started yet. It's making me crazy because, like, Hey! No Paper! But yeah, still the stress. I don't understand why the stress. I think I need some spliff.
ASIDE:
I just decided I'm going to call my farmer friend "Myfarmer", because that's her email address, and we all had a giggle over it and proceeded to tease her a little about it when she told us what she'd chosen.
THAT'S THAT THEN:
So I told Myfarmer that if I got some we'd go smoke behind her barn and then laugh at the kids all afternoon. Like I could get ahold of anything, or could afford it if I did find a source. Sigh. Sometimes I think I'm the only one in this one hole town who isn't hooked up. Honestly though,it's been years and years. I don't even know if I can remember the last time I toked. I never could smoke a lot- too hard on my lungs, and I don't think it's very good for the rest of you either, but it sure was fun.
I suppose I could make do with a good laugh instead. Harold and Kumar Two comes out soon, doesn't it? That shit's funny, even when you watch it twice. I watched "Dude, Where's my car" expecting it to be pee yer pants funny again, but it faded to being just generally funny. It was funny enough that I wanted to make matching t-shirts for Simon and I that said "Dude" and "Sweet" on the back, but he said he didn't like the movie That much, and there you have it.
Why do you have to pass it on the left hand side?
ephelba
I found this because I'm up late reading. I say reading, but I really mean consulting The Oracle (aka the internets). The Bean has been doing some very odd things, leading Simon and I to have this conversation a lot:
"That was a seizure."
"She's fine.
...
...
Do you think she had a seizure?"
"That's totally a seizure"
"She's fine."
She has a Doctor's appointment next week,so barring a really obvious seizure-y event, we'll have a big fun visit then, I'm sure, complete with EXTRA FUN BLOOD DRAWS YEAH BABY! I don't want her to have to have any more of those. No sir. It just makes me sick. I have to be the big bad mom and hold her down, then I have to be the strong comforting mom who gets her to stop screaming.
I'm sick of having to do hard mom and strong mom things. I'm also sick of all the uncertainty that being Bean's mom seems to require. No one's certain why she doesn't talk. Whether she'll have other learning problems. This visit will be more of the same. I'll describe her spells and no one will be certain if they're seizures, and tests will have to be done, and even if they decide they were seizures, chances are no one will know if she'll have more, or if they'll be getting worse or better as time goes on. No one will know if there's a connection between one thing and another. I'm sick of it.
I'm feeling slightly "sick" anyhow. Like I'm at the end of my tether, but for no real reason. I'm getting my stuff done, but I feel like I've got something hanging over my head. Like I've got a paper due tomorrow and I haven't started yet. It's making me crazy because, like, Hey! No Paper! But yeah, still the stress. I don't understand why the stress. I think I need some spliff.
ASIDE:
I just decided I'm going to call my farmer friend "Myfarmer", because that's her email address, and we all had a giggle over it and proceeded to tease her a little about it when she told us what she'd chosen.
THAT'S THAT THEN:
So I told Myfarmer that if I got some we'd go smoke behind her barn and then laugh at the kids all afternoon. Like I could get ahold of anything, or could afford it if I did find a source. Sigh. Sometimes I think I'm the only one in this one hole town who isn't hooked up. Honestly though,it's been years and years. I don't even know if I can remember the last time I toked. I never could smoke a lot- too hard on my lungs, and I don't think it's very good for the rest of you either, but it sure was fun.
I suppose I could make do with a good laugh instead. Harold and Kumar Two comes out soon, doesn't it? That shit's funny, even when you watch it twice. I watched "Dude, Where's my car" expecting it to be pee yer pants funny again, but it faded to being just generally funny. It was funny enough that I wanted to make matching t-shirts for Simon and I that said "Dude" and "Sweet" on the back, but he said he didn't like the movie That much, and there you have it.
Why do you have to pass it on the left hand side?
ephelba
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
What I'm doing these days.
* Obviously, I haven't been subjecting you to bad writing. Seriously, the Bug's birth story was so poorly written I'm tempted to delete it, but its poorly-written-ness is a testament to the state of my brain, so I'll leave it stand.
* Have been playing Zelda, Twilight Princess. The Boy and Simon are too. Sometimes we bond as one or the other of us tries to figure out a sticky problem. Sometimes we yell something to the effect of "Jump Back Bitch" when one or the other of us gets too bossy . The Boy, especially, tends to become a sort of back-seat-driver when he sees us going about something the wrong way.
It's very fun to have the boy in the room when we discover something he hadn't found, or do something he said couldn't be done. We're continually trying to explain to him that there are no real risks in this game, it being, well, a GAME, and so he should just try everything. What could it hurt? He tends to get hung up on what he thinks should happen, or on not wasting bombs or arrows. When us old fogeys find something his outrage is palpable. And sometimes earsplitting. It's a hoot.
Note: the designers of the game put a lovely feature on the menu screen that keeps tabs of how long you've played. That way, when you get together with your gaming friends, you can say "My penis is bigger because I finished the game in twenty hours and five minutes with only the original three hearts...blahblahblah." For the rest of us mortals it serves other purposes. For Boy it is an unfailing record of the fact that he did, as a matter of fact, play for more than an hour today, and needs to get his ass up and do something else. For me it serves as a record of how much time I've spent not doing laundry, not doing the bills, not cooking and not cleaning. It's a measure of how guilty I need to be. I'm trying to change my view of it, and start using it as a timer like the Boy does. There shouldn't be anything wrong with playing for a little everyday if I'm doing my other stuff too.
Right?
It's definitely served as an object lesson that if you work on something a little at a time the hours add up, because Boy and I have both been putzing at it a bit here and there and have accrued more than forty hours. And no, we haven't finished the game yet, and yes, yours is probably bigger- bite me.
* Let's see. I've also been looking up old friends on the internet. I think I always do that around New Years. Seems like I always find the same ones, which is good, but I'm also hoping that one day I'll find my best friend from elementary school, or some more of my good friends from the first time I went to college...
* Been watching my friend's farm. It's been doing this:
that is, it's been having sheep. And a horse and donkeys and cats and chickens. The chickens are just about my favorite, but I don't have a picture of them yet, so you'll have to content yourself with the cats.
* I've decided that since I was a very successful office worker I should try to apply the skills I used there to my home life, and see if it doesn't help me get my shit together. I've been feeling sentimental about my old office. I had an office. An entire office to myself, where I organized and worked and kept things neat and tidy. It was a tiny universe whose workings I got to govern to a degree I haven't managed anywhere else in my life ever. Isn't that odd? I mean, I'm the mom of this house, so why doesn't it run more like I want it to? You could argue that the other four people here have something to do with it, but I disagree, because basically we all want the same thing. We'd all like to be able to see the floor, and have said floor be clean enough it doesn't turn our socks brown. We'd all like to have our laundry washed and then put away, instead of heaped into an over-full basket in the laundry room. We'd all like to eat dinner by six. I just can't figure out why this is so damn hard.
Stage one of my "Run it like an Office" plan is to use my daily planner like I did in the work world. I'd sit down every morning and plan out what I needed to get done that day in writing. I don't know why, but this does wonders for me, and it seems to helping in the two days I've tried it so far. I'll let you know how it goes.
* Lastly, as usual, I've been discovering odd things on youtube. Such as this:
You gotta love that.
Wow. This was a bit longer than I had intended. Shit, how bout I make it even longer and put in some gratuitous baby pics.
There now.
Going to go be a good witch,
ephelba
* Have been playing Zelda, Twilight Princess. The Boy and Simon are too. Sometimes we bond as one or the other of us tries to figure out a sticky problem. Sometimes we yell something to the effect of "Jump Back Bitch" when one or the other of us gets too bossy . The Boy, especially, tends to become a sort of back-seat-driver when he sees us going about something the wrong way.
It's very fun to have the boy in the room when we discover something he hadn't found, or do something he said couldn't be done. We're continually trying to explain to him that there are no real risks in this game, it being, well, a GAME, and so he should just try everything. What could it hurt? He tends to get hung up on what he thinks should happen, or on not wasting bombs or arrows. When us old fogeys find something his outrage is palpable. And sometimes earsplitting. It's a hoot.
Note: the designers of the game put a lovely feature on the menu screen that keeps tabs of how long you've played. That way, when you get together with your gaming friends, you can say "My penis is bigger because I finished the game in twenty hours and five minutes with only the original three hearts...blahblahblah." For the rest of us mortals it serves other purposes. For Boy it is an unfailing record of the fact that he did, as a matter of fact, play for more than an hour today, and needs to get his ass up and do something else. For me it serves as a record of how much time I've spent not doing laundry, not doing the bills, not cooking and not cleaning. It's a measure of how guilty I need to be. I'm trying to change my view of it, and start using it as a timer like the Boy does. There shouldn't be anything wrong with playing for a little everyday if I'm doing my other stuff too.
Right?
It's definitely served as an object lesson that if you work on something a little at a time the hours add up, because Boy and I have both been putzing at it a bit here and there and have accrued more than forty hours. And no, we haven't finished the game yet, and yes, yours is probably bigger- bite me.
* Let's see. I've also been looking up old friends on the internet. I think I always do that around New Years. Seems like I always find the same ones, which is good, but I'm also hoping that one day I'll find my best friend from elementary school, or some more of my good friends from the first time I went to college...
* Been watching my friend's farm. It's been doing this:
that is, it's been having sheep. And a horse and donkeys and cats and chickens. The chickens are just about my favorite, but I don't have a picture of them yet, so you'll have to content yourself with the cats.
* I've decided that since I was a very successful office worker I should try to apply the skills I used there to my home life, and see if it doesn't help me get my shit together. I've been feeling sentimental about my old office. I had an office. An entire office to myself, where I organized and worked and kept things neat and tidy. It was a tiny universe whose workings I got to govern to a degree I haven't managed anywhere else in my life ever. Isn't that odd? I mean, I'm the mom of this house, so why doesn't it run more like I want it to? You could argue that the other four people here have something to do with it, but I disagree, because basically we all want the same thing. We'd all like to be able to see the floor, and have said floor be clean enough it doesn't turn our socks brown. We'd all like to have our laundry washed and then put away, instead of heaped into an over-full basket in the laundry room. We'd all like to eat dinner by six. I just can't figure out why this is so damn hard.
Stage one of my "Run it like an Office" plan is to use my daily planner like I did in the work world. I'd sit down every morning and plan out what I needed to get done that day in writing. I don't know why, but this does wonders for me, and it seems to helping in the two days I've tried it so far. I'll let you know how it goes.
* Lastly, as usual, I've been discovering odd things on youtube. Such as this:
You gotta love that.
Wow. This was a bit longer than I had intended. Shit, how bout I make it even longer and put in some gratuitous baby pics.
There now.
Going to go be a good witch,
ephelba
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The Birth Story
You think, when it happens, that there's no way you're going to forget any of this, ever. Then you come home and life takes over and little details start to melt away. It's already been a month, so I better write this before I forget who I gave birth to.
Lest you forget, I was a week and a few days overdue.Simon's mom was here, helping us out and hoping to meet the baby. A c-section had been scheduled for two days after her flight back home. I had been eating eggplant, drinking raspberry leaf tea and I don't know what all in the hopes that the kiddo would get here before her grandmother left.
I had been having the odd cramp now and then. Strings of them, even. Then the magic day came when they didn't stop. Of course, everyone is always asking "Anything?" and it's awkward to say "Well, yes, but they probably don't mean anything and they'll go away in a minute." This was what I said all day, from the time I got up until about one in the afternoon, at which point I conceded that maybe this was the real thing. Simon said it must be, because he had begun to bake bread, and he assured me that this meant we would leave at the most awkward point possible in the proceedings.
I tried to take a nap (ha!). We both took showers. I tried to pull together every single thing that the Peanut could possibly need while we were gone. In the meantime the contractions were getting closer together. I was supposed to leave when they were 6 or 7 minutes apart, to allow time for us to get to the hospital. By the time we got it together they were 3 minutes apart.
And it snowed. We hadn't had any snow yet, but durned if it snowed and sleeted on the way in. Simon and I were slightly nervous we wouldn't make it. I was uncomfortable every three minutes. We held hands when we could.
Thankfully, we made it to the hospital in plenty of time. I got into the bed in the triage room, where they informed me I was in early labor and would be permitted to hang out and have a baby. While I was in triage I switched from early to the real thing, which was when I began to wish I had done some practicing of the lamaze.
Because I hadn't. Practiced, that is, and I began to worry that I was in some trouble. I quickly discovered that laboring in bed = BADBADBAD. Laboring over a chair with Simon pushing on my back was doable. Moaning helped, but I could not get into that state I had been in when I labored for Boy. This time I was totally relying on Simon. If he wasn't there for a contraction I was in for it. That time I had focused on relaxing with every contraction. This time I just couldn't get there. I finally gave up and asked for an epidural. I figured I couldn't do it. I was tired already and I just knew they'd check me and say I was at 3. They suggested they do a check, because they had to do one before an epidural anyway, and if I was farther along than I thought, then maybe we could do something else. I was a 6.
You have no idea what a relief that was. This labor was going to be textbook. I went ahead and said yes to some fun juice though, because I was pooped, and it was hard. They gave me something non-narcotic that was supposed to go through the system very quickly. It helped. After a bit I asked to get into the jacuzzi tub, and Simon and I walked across the hall where I discovered what a difference a little water makes.
The water supported the belly. It relaxed all the muscles I'd forgotten how to relax myself. It felt damn good. I didn't take to the bubbles, but the bath itself felt great. It felt so great that I eased into transition without any hullabaloo at all. And just about the time things started getting painful again, I started to shake, and I realized what was happening. I told Simon I thought I was in transition, and very shortly thereafter my water broke.
Our labor nurse had been doing this for 20 years. She came in, heard me have a contraction, and told us I was probably ready to push. I couldn't believe it. We hadn't been there seven hours yet. It took more than a day to get to that point with Boy- this seemed so quick. I really wasn't sure she was right. Once they insisted I get out of the tub and walk across the hall it became apparent to me that they were very right, and that I might have to be worried about making the fifteen feet to the bed. I think they carried me. I don't really know. I do know I could feel her head pushing my bones apart.
Somehow we made it. The midwife was insisting I squat at the end of the bed so gravity would help things. I insisted that I couldn't do this, this wasn't happening, and we needed another plan because the baby was not coming out the way it went in. I insisted this loudly at the top of my lungs. She told be to insist at the bottom of my lungs, and it would help things along. She said I could do it. She must get so tired of telling hysterical women they can, indeed, push a baby out their vagina. I feel very unoriginal. I was yelling the same things I would hear four other women yell later. Exactly the very same words. Exactly. We would all be completely certain that we were tearing in half. That the opposite was true, and the baby would never make it out because we incapable of opening. That there was nothing right or natural about what was happening and that we couldn't do it. And then a baby would make it past the hardest point and suddenly it would be clear that we could do it, we had done it, and everything was fine.
I don't mean to scare anyone by saying this. If you're a premigravida, what you should take away from this is that if you reach the pushing stage and you think these thoughts, the truth is that you really can do it. Really. You can totally do it. I did it when I quit being scared of the pain and pushed into it. It was over so quick- less than a half hour. I think if I had held back I could have dragged it out for a while, so I suppose the key is to stay calm(er) and push hard.
That whole thing surprised me, because with Boy the pushing was great. Of course, with him I'd had an epidural, but they had turned it off and I could feel my legs and the urge to push. It was a relief. It was powerful and exciting and not that bad. The labor had been much worse than the delivery. For this baby the opposite was true.
Of course, when you have a nine pound baby it does some damage to the portal. I have this tendency to make large, round headed babies, then push them out in such a fashion that they have still have lovely round heads instead of the cone heads they're supposed to come out with. Cone heads mean your bones don't have to gape as much as mine did afterwards. I didn't need many stitches, but that doesn't mean I escaped unchanged. The midwife asked if I cared about looks. I said "No, just use the least number of stitches", cause that shit hurts. The correct answer was "Yes, I care very much. I don't want to look like a freakshow, use as many stitches as it takes to restore her to her former state". Ah well, you do the best you can with what you know at the time.
And with that, I got to hold our little girl. They put goop in her eyes, but we wouldn't let them take her away. Not for shots, or the PKU test, or even for a bath. She didn't get a bath till she'd been home for days- we just wiped her dry with a receiving blanket and called her good.
Simon laid down in a chair to sleep, and I snuggled in with the girl to get a nap.
As I laid there I started getting hot, then cold, then queasy, then I'd realize the girl was in my lap and I'd "fallen asleep". Then I'd do it all again. I didn't push the call button because I thought I was just tired. I was starting to think about waking Simon up when the nurse came in and asked how I was. I said I didn't feel good. I asked her to take the baby. I couldn't believe I was asking her that, but I was beginning to get worried. She took her, and it was about then that I said (I'm so ashamed to admit it) "Help me" in a tiny little voice. There was checking under sheets, and checking of blood pressure, and the appearance of many nurses (where do they all come from?) and brief excitement generally. Turns out I had been bleeding rather more than is usual. Things went in the iv and there was a round of tubes passed all around and then I felt much better, thank you very much.
We spent the remainder of our stay there trying to leave. I was so worried about Peanut, and there's just no sleep to be had in a hospital, so we were out of there in about a day. Simon says it wasn't a moment too soon. They had problems with the heat- first it was too cold, then it was so hot it made me ill. I'm not sure the shower had hot water- the sink surely didn't. I hadn't packed a toothbrush. We were very done.
So we came home. We had been through a textbook labor and were leaving with a baby who behaved in a textbook manner. I still can't believe we pulled it off. I really had thought we'd end up with another c-section, or at least an epidural, but we managed to do without either.
Pretty damn proud of Simon and myself,
ephelba
Lest you forget, I was a week and a few days overdue.Simon's mom was here, helping us out and hoping to meet the baby. A c-section had been scheduled for two days after her flight back home. I had been eating eggplant, drinking raspberry leaf tea and I don't know what all in the hopes that the kiddo would get here before her grandmother left.
I had been having the odd cramp now and then. Strings of them, even. Then the magic day came when they didn't stop. Of course, everyone is always asking "Anything?" and it's awkward to say "Well, yes, but they probably don't mean anything and they'll go away in a minute." This was what I said all day, from the time I got up until about one in the afternoon, at which point I conceded that maybe this was the real thing. Simon said it must be, because he had begun to bake bread, and he assured me that this meant we would leave at the most awkward point possible in the proceedings.
I tried to take a nap (ha!). We both took showers. I tried to pull together every single thing that the Peanut could possibly need while we were gone. In the meantime the contractions were getting closer together. I was supposed to leave when they were 6 or 7 minutes apart, to allow time for us to get to the hospital. By the time we got it together they were 3 minutes apart.
And it snowed. We hadn't had any snow yet, but durned if it snowed and sleeted on the way in. Simon and I were slightly nervous we wouldn't make it. I was uncomfortable every three minutes. We held hands when we could.
Thankfully, we made it to the hospital in plenty of time. I got into the bed in the triage room, where they informed me I was in early labor and would be permitted to hang out and have a baby. While I was in triage I switched from early to the real thing, which was when I began to wish I had done some practicing of the lamaze.
Because I hadn't. Practiced, that is, and I began to worry that I was in some trouble. I quickly discovered that laboring in bed = BADBADBAD. Laboring over a chair with Simon pushing on my back was doable. Moaning helped, but I could not get into that state I had been in when I labored for Boy. This time I was totally relying on Simon. If he wasn't there for a contraction I was in for it. That time I had focused on relaxing with every contraction. This time I just couldn't get there. I finally gave up and asked for an epidural. I figured I couldn't do it. I was tired already and I just knew they'd check me and say I was at 3. They suggested they do a check, because they had to do one before an epidural anyway, and if I was farther along than I thought, then maybe we could do something else. I was a 6.
You have no idea what a relief that was. This labor was going to be textbook. I went ahead and said yes to some fun juice though, because I was pooped, and it was hard. They gave me something non-narcotic that was supposed to go through the system very quickly. It helped. After a bit I asked to get into the jacuzzi tub, and Simon and I walked across the hall where I discovered what a difference a little water makes.
The water supported the belly. It relaxed all the muscles I'd forgotten how to relax myself. It felt damn good. I didn't take to the bubbles, but the bath itself felt great. It felt so great that I eased into transition without any hullabaloo at all. And just about the time things started getting painful again, I started to shake, and I realized what was happening. I told Simon I thought I was in transition, and very shortly thereafter my water broke.
Our labor nurse had been doing this for 20 years. She came in, heard me have a contraction, and told us I was probably ready to push. I couldn't believe it. We hadn't been there seven hours yet. It took more than a day to get to that point with Boy- this seemed so quick. I really wasn't sure she was right. Once they insisted I get out of the tub and walk across the hall it became apparent to me that they were very right, and that I might have to be worried about making the fifteen feet to the bed. I think they carried me. I don't really know. I do know I could feel her head pushing my bones apart.
Somehow we made it. The midwife was insisting I squat at the end of the bed so gravity would help things. I insisted that I couldn't do this, this wasn't happening, and we needed another plan because the baby was not coming out the way it went in. I insisted this loudly at the top of my lungs. She told be to insist at the bottom of my lungs, and it would help things along. She said I could do it. She must get so tired of telling hysterical women they can, indeed, push a baby out their vagina. I feel very unoriginal. I was yelling the same things I would hear four other women yell later. Exactly the very same words. Exactly. We would all be completely certain that we were tearing in half. That the opposite was true, and the baby would never make it out because we incapable of opening. That there was nothing right or natural about what was happening and that we couldn't do it. And then a baby would make it past the hardest point and suddenly it would be clear that we could do it, we had done it, and everything was fine.
I don't mean to scare anyone by saying this. If you're a premigravida, what you should take away from this is that if you reach the pushing stage and you think these thoughts, the truth is that you really can do it. Really. You can totally do it. I did it when I quit being scared of the pain and pushed into it. It was over so quick- less than a half hour. I think if I had held back I could have dragged it out for a while, so I suppose the key is to stay calm(er) and push hard.
That whole thing surprised me, because with Boy the pushing was great. Of course, with him I'd had an epidural, but they had turned it off and I could feel my legs and the urge to push. It was a relief. It was powerful and exciting and not that bad. The labor had been much worse than the delivery. For this baby the opposite was true.
Of course, when you have a nine pound baby it does some damage to the portal. I have this tendency to make large, round headed babies, then push them out in such a fashion that they have still have lovely round heads instead of the cone heads they're supposed to come out with. Cone heads mean your bones don't have to gape as much as mine did afterwards. I didn't need many stitches, but that doesn't mean I escaped unchanged. The midwife asked if I cared about looks. I said "No, just use the least number of stitches", cause that shit hurts. The correct answer was "Yes, I care very much. I don't want to look like a freakshow, use as many stitches as it takes to restore her to her former state". Ah well, you do the best you can with what you know at the time.
And with that, I got to hold our little girl. They put goop in her eyes, but we wouldn't let them take her away. Not for shots, or the PKU test, or even for a bath. She didn't get a bath till she'd been home for days- we just wiped her dry with a receiving blanket and called her good.
Simon laid down in a chair to sleep, and I snuggled in with the girl to get a nap.
As I laid there I started getting hot, then cold, then queasy, then I'd realize the girl was in my lap and I'd "fallen asleep". Then I'd do it all again. I didn't push the call button because I thought I was just tired. I was starting to think about waking Simon up when the nurse came in and asked how I was. I said I didn't feel good. I asked her to take the baby. I couldn't believe I was asking her that, but I was beginning to get worried. She took her, and it was about then that I said (I'm so ashamed to admit it) "Help me" in a tiny little voice. There was checking under sheets, and checking of blood pressure, and the appearance of many nurses (where do they all come from?) and brief excitement generally. Turns out I had been bleeding rather more than is usual. Things went in the iv and there was a round of tubes passed all around and then I felt much better, thank you very much.
We spent the remainder of our stay there trying to leave. I was so worried about Peanut, and there's just no sleep to be had in a hospital, so we were out of there in about a day. Simon says it wasn't a moment too soon. They had problems with the heat- first it was too cold, then it was so hot it made me ill. I'm not sure the shower had hot water- the sink surely didn't. I hadn't packed a toothbrush. We were very done.
So we came home. We had been through a textbook labor and were leaving with a baby who behaved in a textbook manner. I still can't believe we pulled it off. I really had thought we'd end up with another c-section, or at least an epidural, but we managed to do without either.
Pretty damn proud of Simon and myself,
ephelba
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Not Meme-ing
Nancy Dancehall has asked for audience participation, and for once I'm in a mood to participate.
Thusly:
If this were art about me, as I am right now, it wouldn't be all eyes and almonds, it would be all b00bs and n1pples. I nurse the Bug. A lot. Frequently while I do other things. It is a very large part of my life right now. I feel swallowed by it.
Did you notice? She has a name. Boy is outraged- he senses a certain, ummm, lack of that fawning tenderness us moms are supposed to have in my choice of a pet name. It's true. When I look at the Bug I do feel love and tenderness, but I also am aware of other, less romantic sentiments. I notice how primal she is. She is a mass of reflexes- she roots in search of b00b, she arches, she squinches her face while her innards do gymnastics. It reminds me of a bug, so Bug I have dubbed her. I imagine that the name will grow as she does. Instead of her being Bug because she is buglike, she will be Bug because she's cute as a bug's ear.
Also, I seems to like the 'B' pet names. Boy is 'Boy', but he's also Boo. Peanut is Bean. And now there's a Bug. It's all good.
It is bed time, and I have spent all the time here that I can afford to spend. Now that I've christened her I guess I'm free to tell you her birth story. Tomorrow. Maybe. Or the next night....
Still doing good, knock on wood,
ephelba
Thusly:
If this were art about me, as I am right now, it wouldn't be all eyes and almonds, it would be all b00bs and n1pples. I nurse the Bug. A lot. Frequently while I do other things. It is a very large part of my life right now. I feel swallowed by it.
Did you notice? She has a name. Boy is outraged- he senses a certain, ummm, lack of that fawning tenderness us moms are supposed to have in my choice of a pet name. It's true. When I look at the Bug I do feel love and tenderness, but I also am aware of other, less romantic sentiments. I notice how primal she is. She is a mass of reflexes- she roots in search of b00b, she arches, she squinches her face while her innards do gymnastics. It reminds me of a bug, so Bug I have dubbed her. I imagine that the name will grow as she does. Instead of her being Bug because she is buglike, she will be Bug because she's cute as a bug's ear.
Also, I seems to like the 'B' pet names. Boy is 'Boy', but he's also Boo. Peanut is Bean. And now there's a Bug. It's all good.
It is bed time, and I have spent all the time here that I can afford to spend. Now that I've christened her I guess I'm free to tell you her birth story. Tomorrow. Maybe. Or the next night....
Still doing good, knock on wood,
ephelba
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
This is just to say
things are going well. The baby eats. She sleeps pretty well for her age. Peanut is settling into life with another baby. Boy is back in the land of schooling, and is doing good. Simon's work gave them uniforms- he has cool shirts with his name on them, and I think he looks hot. I am almost human again, especially on days when the baby slept really well.
Knocking on wood,
ephelba
Knocking on wood,
ephelba
Friday, November 16, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
The week we've had.
Two days after we come home with the newest baby, Peanut comes down with a cold. This means she needs cuddling with mom at a time when mom's arms are full of nursing baby. A nursing baby we'd prefer did not come down with the cold. The cold that's transmitted by the goobers that seem to magically appear wherever the Peanut's been.
The newest baby gets the cold. Surprise. It starts out as a wet sniffle. Turns out it stays that way,but since we can't see the future we worry about her for a day or two.
Peanut hears "No!" more in 24 hours than she has in her whole life. We simply can't get to her quick enough to perform the negotiations and manuevers that smoothed her life before now. As a result, she throws more tantrums in 24 hours than she has in her whole life.
Boy, who is at his Grandmother's in North Carolina, hits his head. He gets a headache. Then he gets queasy. We sheepishly ask Grandma to take an evening out of her vacation and take him to the ER. She gets to play nurse- takes him to the ER, gets him scanned, wakes him up every three hours all night. Boy begins vomiting during the night. She has to take care of that too, of course, and then gets to take him back to the ER. He is concussed. Nothing horrible, no bleeding in the brain, but Simon and I are beside ourselves because Boy is hurting and WE CAN'T BE THERE! I can't stress how much that hurt us. I imagine it wasn't great for Boy either.
My n1pples fall off. OK, maybe not really, but it sure feels that way. I begin pumping on the side that's the worst off, and make so much milk that we end up feeding it to Peanut to help her get over her cold. I wonder what it means that I make enough milk for two children.
The new baby begins fussing whenever she should latch. Most likely this is because I'm now using n1pple shields. She just has to lump it, because the alternative at this point is formula. Seriously. The whole breast feeding thing deserves a post of its own, so I'll stop there.
On the good side, I manage to get both girls fed, diapered and napped all by myself today. It feels like I've won the Nobel prize. I'm very proud. I imagine it gets easier as you go...
Going to take a hard earned nap,
ephelba
The newest baby gets the cold. Surprise. It starts out as a wet sniffle. Turns out it stays that way,but since we can't see the future we worry about her for a day or two.
Peanut hears "No!" more in 24 hours than she has in her whole life. We simply can't get to her quick enough to perform the negotiations and manuevers that smoothed her life before now. As a result, she throws more tantrums in 24 hours than she has in her whole life.
Boy, who is at his Grandmother's in North Carolina, hits his head. He gets a headache. Then he gets queasy. We sheepishly ask Grandma to take an evening out of her vacation and take him to the ER. She gets to play nurse- takes him to the ER, gets him scanned, wakes him up every three hours all night. Boy begins vomiting during the night. She has to take care of that too, of course, and then gets to take him back to the ER. He is concussed. Nothing horrible, no bleeding in the brain, but Simon and I are beside ourselves because Boy is hurting and WE CAN'T BE THERE! I can't stress how much that hurt us. I imagine it wasn't great for Boy either.
My n1pples fall off. OK, maybe not really, but it sure feels that way. I begin pumping on the side that's the worst off, and make so much milk that we end up feeding it to Peanut to help her get over her cold. I wonder what it means that I make enough milk for two children.
The new baby begins fussing whenever she should latch. Most likely this is because I'm now using n1pple shields. She just has to lump it, because the alternative at this point is formula. Seriously. The whole breast feeding thing deserves a post of its own, so I'll stop there.
On the good side, I manage to get both girls fed, diapered and napped all by myself today. It feels like I've won the Nobel prize. I'm very proud. I imagine it gets easier as you go...
Going to take a hard earned nap,
ephelba
Friday, November 09, 2007
Guess what...
Nine pounds, eight ounces.
I walk like a cowgirl now,
happy, sore and proud.
So we had another good do. She's a keeper alright. You want to keep one who takes that much effort to expel, and who changes the exit gate the way she did. Seriously.
Don't have a pet name for her yet- we call her little stink, chuckles, toots-sicle and various other spur of the moment monikers. I'm sure things will settle soon. By the time we pick a name maybe I'll have posted her birth story, a blurb about breastfeeding, a blurb about having three kids, and more. Or not. There's a lot to do and this time around I'm going to work very hard not to feel guilty about how long it takes me to get things done.
TTFN,
ephelba
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Still no baby.
It's seven days past.
How much longer can she grow
tucked under my ribs?
She's getting evicted next Friday, that's all I'm saying. And you want to know what I'm worried about? I'm worried about what happens when your surgery is scheduled for the same time you normally poo. I know you're not supposed to eat for 12 hours before hand, but I usually don't eat for 12 hours before the poo. Simon says enema. I say he knows me better. I think I'll just binge on hot peppers and grapefruit the day before and hope for the best. Perhaps that will have the same effect as castor oil and everything will end happily.
TMI, I'm sure,
ephelba
How much longer can she grow
tucked under my ribs?
She's getting evicted next Friday, that's all I'm saying. And you want to know what I'm worried about? I'm worried about what happens when your surgery is scheduled for the same time you normally poo. I know you're not supposed to eat for 12 hours before hand, but I usually don't eat for 12 hours before the poo. Simon says enema. I say he knows me better. I think I'll just binge on hot peppers and grapefruit the day before and hope for the best. Perhaps that will have the same effect as castor oil and everything will end happily.
TMI, I'm sure,
ephelba
Thursday, October 25, 2007
No baby.
That's how I start all my phone conversations- "No baby". A surprising number of people have called to ask if there is a baby, as if I had birthed her in a closet and was trying to keep her existence a secret.
I'm up to 560 on my RSS feed. Couldn't care less. Hardly check my email. Mostly, what I do is go to checkups where the baby squirms out from under the monitor and dooms me to another 5 or 10 minutes of monitoring.
I'm only 5 days past my due date. Honestly, I expect it to be next week sometime. This is awkward, because Simon's mom is here now, and she'll be leaving next Weds. It's conceivable she could have made the whole trip and been here for two weeks without seeing the baby before she goes home.
Boy, too, would be devastated if that happens. He's leaving with her, and the thought of not being here when the Bean arrives makes him Very Sad.
Wish me luck,
ephelba
PS:
Lest you worry I'm not trying, I'll list the measures we've undertaken so far:
Eating eggplant
Eating walnuts
Eating mushrooms
Eating Evening Primrose Oil
Sticking said oil up the wahoo
Sex alone
Sex with someone
Sex with an eggplant
I think waiting it out is what's going to work.
I'm up to 560 on my RSS feed. Couldn't care less. Hardly check my email. Mostly, what I do is go to checkups where the baby squirms out from under the monitor and dooms me to another 5 or 10 minutes of monitoring.
I'm only 5 days past my due date. Honestly, I expect it to be next week sometime. This is awkward, because Simon's mom is here now, and she'll be leaving next Weds. It's conceivable she could have made the whole trip and been here for two weeks without seeing the baby before she goes home.
Boy, too, would be devastated if that happens. He's leaving with her, and the thought of not being here when the Bean arrives makes him Very Sad.
Wish me luck,
ephelba
PS:
Lest you worry I'm not trying, I'll list the measures we've undertaken so far:
Eating eggplant
Eating walnuts
Eating mushrooms
Eating Evening Primrose Oil
Sticking said oil up the wahoo
Sex alone
Sex with someone
I think waiting it out is what's going to work.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Still waiting...
Waiting and waiting.
She's bean-curled, comfy. I'm not.
Come out already!
I cleaned up after everyone else went to bed. Does that mean I'm nesting and the baby's coming now? It's just that she's still growing and I don't have any more room for her to move into...
She's so big it's easy to feel her parts through my belly skin. Somehow I still can't figure out what she's doing in there. Is that an arm, or a leg? If this is her bum, where has her head gone? What the hell is she doing in there that makes my leg hurt? Do the wiggles mean she's happy, or do they mean she can't get comfy with my rib all up in her business like that?
My stepmother and I have decided that the ideal arraignment would be something more marsupial. You grow a baby, it comes out and you stick in a pouch for a couple of weeks (months?) whilst you recover from pregnancy. We think it's kinda harsh to go through all that only to be rewarded with something that needs care at all hours. Maybe, since this one WILL be nursing, and since I have a sling, the first couple of months will turn out that way.
A girl can dream,
ephelba
She's bean-curled, comfy. I'm not.
Come out already!
I cleaned up after everyone else went to bed. Does that mean I'm nesting and the baby's coming now? It's just that she's still growing and I don't have any more room for her to move into...
She's so big it's easy to feel her parts through my belly skin. Somehow I still can't figure out what she's doing in there. Is that an arm, or a leg? If this is her bum, where has her head gone? What the hell is she doing in there that makes my leg hurt? Do the wiggles mean she's happy, or do they mean she can't get comfy with my rib all up in her business like that?
My stepmother and I have decided that the ideal arraignment would be something more marsupial. You grow a baby, it comes out and you stick in a pouch for a couple of weeks (months?) whilst you recover from pregnancy. We think it's kinda harsh to go through all that only to be rewarded with something that needs care at all hours. Maybe, since this one WILL be nursing, and since I have a sling, the first couple of months will turn out that way.
A girl can dream,
ephelba
Friday, October 12, 2007
I can have the baby now.
Boy brought down her clothes and diapers from the attic. Friends came over to help sort, and we went through three bins and a trash bag of old Peanut clothes in no time.
Of course, I did not haul myself up to the attic to see if Boy had gotten everything. He assured me he had. Instead, I stewed for two days wondering why we hadn't run across my favorite baby hat. Today I go upstairs and immediately see three (THREE!) clear plastic bags and a lidless box full of baby clothes.
Sigh.
He's such a help though. Yesterday I went to the grocery store, and I would surely have given up and gone home had he not been there to bend over for me. Why do they even Have a bottom shelf? Seriously!
And he did clean the stairwell for me. Top to bottom. Swept,vacuumed and mopped. Now if we burned his shoes instead of leaving them out there to stink and fester it would be show worthy. Point is, he did the work by himself just so I wouldn't have to, and he did it well enough that I don't have to do the work a second time after him.
Simon's been a big help too. He's been cooking dinner and helping keep the kitchen from becoming a disaster zone. He takes care of Peanut when I'm sick of her climbing on my belly. He smoothes things with Boy when I'm Hormonal Bitch Mom. And he works 50 hours a week. The man deserves a medal.
The point of all this, I guess, is just to say that between the three of us we've gotten enough done that I won't panic if I go into labor now. I'm actually looking forward to it Very Much. This baby just feels too big for my insides.
Urg,
ephelba
Of course, I did not haul myself up to the attic to see if Boy had gotten everything. He assured me he had. Instead, I stewed for two days wondering why we hadn't run across my favorite baby hat. Today I go upstairs and immediately see three (THREE!) clear plastic bags and a lidless box full of baby clothes.
Sigh.
He's such a help though. Yesterday I went to the grocery store, and I would surely have given up and gone home had he not been there to bend over for me. Why do they even Have a bottom shelf? Seriously!
And he did clean the stairwell for me. Top to bottom. Swept,vacuumed and mopped. Now if we burned his shoes instead of leaving them out there to stink and fester it would be show worthy. Point is, he did the work by himself just so I wouldn't have to, and he did it well enough that I don't have to do the work a second time after him.
Simon's been a big help too. He's been cooking dinner and helping keep the kitchen from becoming a disaster zone. He takes care of Peanut when I'm sick of her climbing on my belly. He smoothes things with Boy when I'm Hormonal Bitch Mom. And he works 50 hours a week. The man deserves a medal.
The point of all this, I guess, is just to say that between the three of us we've gotten enough done that I won't panic if I go into labor now. I'm actually looking forward to it Very Much. This baby just feels too big for my insides.
Urg,
ephelba
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Ouch
Yeah, labor does hurt, but honestly there's a lot of hurting beforehand. My hip has been bugging me for months, and there's heartburn, and backaches, and kicks in your soft bits and headaches....
Today has been very uncomfortable in the belly. Not contractions. Weird pulls and things. Of course, not being one to keep this to myself when I could complain to Simon, I whine. He looked at me askance and asked "Do you have a bag packed?"
"I'm so not in labor."
"But you do have a bag packed..."
"This is really not labor!"
"You're not supposed to wait till you go into labor to pack the bag!"
He's a smart man, that's why I married him:)
Oooo! Oooo! And I have a Boy story!
So Boy is in his room reading, and Simon and I are just outside his door talking, and the dog is going nuts because it's chow time for her. I say "Is there something you need, little dog?" (Hint hint hint to the Boy, whose job it is to feed said dog.)
No response.
I say it again, "What do you need, little dog?"
Nothing.
Just for the grownup's amusement I say "IceCreamIs there something you need little dog?" because it's magic how the kid always hears when you say "Ice Cream" but never "Boy! Get in here!"
About two seconds later his head pops out and he says "What does the dog need?"
At which point I laughed till I peed. Boy swears he never heard me say "Ice Cream", and is offended by the notion that he would respond to that, but I swear, it was damn near Pavlovian.
I'll get around to packing the damn bag tomorrow, I'm sure,
ephelba
Today has been very uncomfortable in the belly. Not contractions. Weird pulls and things. Of course, not being one to keep this to myself when I could complain to Simon, I whine. He looked at me askance and asked "Do you have a bag packed?"
"I'm so not in labor."
"But you do have a bag packed..."
"This is really not labor!"
"You're not supposed to wait till you go into labor to pack the bag!"
He's a smart man, that's why I married him:)
Oooo! Oooo! And I have a Boy story!
So Boy is in his room reading, and Simon and I are just outside his door talking, and the dog is going nuts because it's chow time for her. I say "Is there something you need, little dog?" (Hint hint hint to the Boy, whose job it is to feed said dog.)
No response.
I say it again, "What do you need, little dog?"
Nothing.
Just for the grownup's amusement I say "IceCreamIs there something you need little dog?" because it's magic how the kid always hears when you say "Ice Cream" but never "Boy! Get in here!"
About two seconds later his head pops out and he says "What does the dog need?"
At which point I laughed till I peed. Boy swears he never heard me say "Ice Cream", and is offended by the notion that he would respond to that, but I swear, it was damn near Pavlovian.
I'll get around to packing the damn bag tomorrow, I'm sure,
ephelba
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Sweetness and Light
Isn't that what I'm supposed to feel right now?
I am a woman on the edge. A bitch. A bad mom. Too lazy to take her daughter out the house- too grumpy to talk to her son instead of yell at him. Too tired to cook or clean.
When I think of the new baby, all I can imagine is the lack of sleep it means. That I'm going to go through all the work of pushing her out and not have any way to rest back up. That we're going to go back to the dark ages where I couldn't keep the house clean or have dinner on the table ever ever (as opposed to now, when I pull it off sometimes). That I'm going to remain a moody, useless, bad-mom bitch.
Frankly, if I think about it too much, I cry. That's not what the reaction to the thought of a new baby is supposed to be, is it?
I'm just so tired already. I can't imagine how a baby will help.
Maybe this is all just hormones though. I remember it was about this time when I was pregnant with Peanut that I found out my mom was going to stay with us for a week or two to "Help". Every time Simon brought it up I sobbed. I couldn't mention it without tearing up, even at work. I was convinced it was going to be the worst disaster ever, and the thought of having to deal with mom-shit when I had just had a baby was too much. Simon was ready to tell her to fuck off. In the end, everything was fine. Really. She was on her best behavior and actually helped us out a lot. So maybe this will be the same way. I'm all moody and hormonal now, but when we actually get to that point things won't be so bad.
Shit,
ephelba
I am a woman on the edge. A bitch. A bad mom. Too lazy to take her daughter out the house- too grumpy to talk to her son instead of yell at him. Too tired to cook or clean.
When I think of the new baby, all I can imagine is the lack of sleep it means. That I'm going to go through all the work of pushing her out and not have any way to rest back up. That we're going to go back to the dark ages where I couldn't keep the house clean or have dinner on the table ever ever (as opposed to now, when I pull it off sometimes). That I'm going to remain a moody, useless, bad-mom bitch.
Frankly, if I think about it too much, I cry. That's not what the reaction to the thought of a new baby is supposed to be, is it?
I'm just so tired already. I can't imagine how a baby will help.
Maybe this is all just hormones though. I remember it was about this time when I was pregnant with Peanut that I found out my mom was going to stay with us for a week or two to "Help". Every time Simon brought it up I sobbed. I couldn't mention it without tearing up, even at work. I was convinced it was going to be the worst disaster ever, and the thought of having to deal with mom-shit when I had just had a baby was too much. Simon was ready to tell her to fuck off. In the end, everything was fine. Really. She was on her best behavior and actually helped us out a lot. So maybe this will be the same way. I'm all moody and hormonal now, but when we actually get to that point things won't be so bad.
Shit,
ephelba
Monday, October 01, 2007
Not going to happen.
The other night I dreamed I went to my checkup and they said I was already pregnant with kiddo number four. That would be, I had gotten pregnant whilst I was pregnant. I said "That can't happen!" The midwife said "It's really rare."
Both the real world midwife and my husband found it amusing.
Somebody's getting fixed, that's all I'm saying,
ephelba
Both the real world midwife and my husband found it amusing.
Somebody's getting fixed, that's all I'm saying,
ephelba
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