We spent the weekend at Ryan's dad & step-mom's house in Wenatchee. Ryan helped his dad a bit by digging a trench for the irrigation system he is putting in his back yard. This project of course inspired Ryan to do the same thing in our back yard. We were home from our 3+ hour drive home maybe an hour before we all piled back into the car and headed off to Home Depot to buy the materials needed for a drip system and sprinkler system. Good times.
Aside from being chauffeured all over Eastern Washington by my grandpa the summer between fourth and fifth grade this was the longest time I've spent in Eastern Washington. Wait. That isn't true. I forgot that one summer, I think between fifth and sixth grade, my family vacationed in a cabin in Conquinelly in Okanagon County. My brothers and I spent our time swimming in the lake, making friends and killing grasshoppers - there was an abundance of grasshoppers that summer and we would jump from grasshopper to grasshopper. I don't think my mom saw us do that, she wouldn't have approved. Gross.
Gavin was the recipient of much love and attention from his Grandpa and Grandma Jahns. They were the recipient of much drool and a few bites. G's top two teeth are going to burst through his gums any day now. Because of the impending arrival of his upper chompers he has been a little fussier, a lot droolier and way, way snottier which have taken his sneezes from being cute to being really gross. His sleep also suffered. Check that - the whole family's sleep has suffered. Karl & Suzanne didn't hear his screaming at 4:30 in the morning though because their bedroom was downstairs on the other side of the house. That made me feel better.
Kea almost took a header off the cliff behind their house. Ryan saw that she found a way around the sage brush border and had her paws over the edge trying to get a discarded teddy bear on the adjacent property. Gavin won't be allowed outside unless he has at least one set of eyeballs on him at all times.
Other than going for the cliff Kea was mostly well behaved. Karl & Suzanne seemed to really like the dog. I keep forgetting that they like animals because they only recently got two cats. I keep yelling at Kea when she goes and licks Suzanne but Suzanne doesn't seem to mind. Ryan and I lucked out that they like the dog and that their cats tolerate her.
Karl took us on a tour of Wenatchee and the surrounding foothills. I didn't realize how pretty Eastern Washington is. I have always pictured it as a barren wasteland, save the orchards of course. It was the orchards that I thought were so beautiful dotting the mountains and valleys. I couldn't live out there, though. It is too far removed from everything and the weather is too hot or too cold and seldom just right - I don't think Goldilocks would like it either.
On our next trip out there we are going to go on a 10 mile bike ride that Suzanne was telling us about. I love bike rides but Seattle is just way to hilly with way too much traffic for me to feel comfortable riding a bike. Ryan did talk about the Burke Gillman trail, he said there aren't too many inclines so we should do that ride this summer or fall. We will have to rent a special bike or get some sort of seat for Gavin that can attach to Ryan's bike. I don't want to have Gavin on my bike as I am challenged in the grace department.
On our way home we decided to stop in Leavenworth (the former logging town turned into a tourist trap in the stylings of a Bavarian village) because I've never been. I've been harping on Ryan to take me there during the Christmas season because I want to see it all snowy and magical. He laughed when I said 'magical'; I laughed, too. Who says magical, anyway?
Karl and Suzanne followed us to Leavenworth and were gracious to take Kea while Ryan and I wandered in shops - Kea's tail and knick knack shops do not go well together. Since I'm not a big shopper and neither is Ryan we actually only stopped in four stores. The music box store ($$$), the gift shop next to the music box store, the clothing store, the hat store, the Christmas store and the candy store. Das ist alles (that's all). I took three years of German in high school and I can hardly remember any of it. Nicht so gut (not so good). I do remember some of the dialogue we had to memorize in 8th grade German class.
Alice, jermand ist an die tur. (Alice, someone's at the door).
Um die ecke (around the corner)
Ist es noch frei? (Is this free?)
So, so wie ich dich liebe/so, so, liebst du auch mich (so, so, how I love you/ so, so, you love me too) - that was love a song we had to learn. There are so many more lyrics... my favorite is: dir, dir, mit leichten Sinn (you, you with an empty head). It's been 14 or 15 years since we learned that song so I'm not completely confident in the lyrics.
It's been 14 or 15 years! I graduated from High School 13 years ago. Yikes. I feel old. A caregiver, Aretha, at the daycare in my gym was telling a story that her mom told her recently about putting some plastic toys in the microwave and catching them on fire when she was a little girl. My family didn't get a microwave until I was 10, it was a wedding gift for my parents. Aretha was probably in diapers when I graduated.
I may feel old but Ryan will always be older than me. He's a guy so he doesn't care like I do. He's been out of high school for 15 years. Before we know it we are going to be going to his 20 year reunion. Unreal. It seems like we just went to his 10 year reunion.
Back to Leavenworth...
The Christmas store was AWESOME! The employees were really friendly which is a good thing since its a Christmas store but I would go insane working there. I love Christmas and the decorations and the music but only for 6 weeks, tops. I get super peeved when Christmas displays start going up around Labor Day, just ask Ryan. Every year he hears me gasp as we walk into _____ (Lowe's/Home Depot/Target/Bartell's....) and there is a gaudy inflatable snowman next to a gigantic Santa in a snow globe next to the forest of artificial trees all while the sun is still shining bright and warm which in Seattle means it is SUMMER, not winter, not even close. After the gasp I let loose on a tirade about the commercialism of Christmas and how the holiday is cheapened by these displays and so early at that...
So, the Christmas store. Year 'round glitter and carols and cheer. It's a jolly place alright. I bought one ornament, a beaded star that Ryan didn't like, probably because the center bead was gold - he hates gold. I doubt he would turn down a gold brick if one were offered to him. The Christmas store was playing some music that Ryan and I both commented on; it was jazzy and had just a touch of Christmas flare. I asked the clerk what was playing and she showed me the CD. $15 for the CD. I don't think so. Have they not heard of amazon or E-bay? Hello. I bought the CD for $7 ($3 for the CD & $4 for shipping and handling). The CD just arrived in the mail today - that was fast! Now only 5 months before I can play it - the day after Thanksgiving is the official start of the Christmas Season for me. I get really annoyed when Christmas movies are played on Thanksgiving. Why not play Planes, Trains and Automobiles with John Candy? That's a Thanksgiving movie. Or the cute cartoon with the mice pilgrims coming to the New World?
Monday, June 23, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
He Done Did It
Saturday we went to a girlfriends house to celebrate her 30th birthday. It was baby central. There was a 14 month old, a 10 month old and Gavin (8 months). Then the birthday girl and a guest are pregnant and due only days apart. That left two couples without children. Gavin and the other baby, Augie, were having a grand old time doing the crawl, rocking back and forth and being the center of attention. Not even an hour after we got home Ryan and I were watching Gavin on hands and knees rocking back and forth when suddenly - he was just going forward. I said, "Ryan, is he crawling? He's crawling! Ryan! He's crawling!" Of course Ryan could see this with his own two eyes as he was right there. I'm glad we both got to see his first official crawl.
He's getting faster and faster with each passing day. We still have to baby proof the house. Now if I have to leave the room for a second I have to put him in the Pack 'n Play whereas before I just left knowing he would be in the same spot I left him in. Oh, there is so much to do!
Now that he's crawling we have to put carpet in his room. The floors are pine, a softwood, that have had 81 years of abuse and neglect. I don't think they can just be refinished, a lot of boards would need to be replaced because the grooves are so deep; that and the previous owner had a dog that wasn't so well house trained if you know what I mean. I hear stains on pine are near impossible to get out because the wood is so soft that the liquid really penetrates the fiber.
Ryan's step-dad has some cute carpet squares that he got from a church's nursery, they have bird houses and birds and butterflies on them that he is going to give to us.
Right now would be a great time to clean the house. Ryan's in bed and Gavin finally went to sleep so it's just me; even the dog is asleep. But now is also a great time to blog, besides, cleaning is noisy and it wouldn't be very nice of me to wake the boys.
Maybe tomorrow will be more productive. We'll see. If I count on a day to clean and do laundry then I can count on something going wrong (like a wonderful baby turning cranky and refusing naps) so I'm going to take tomorrow as it comes.
He's getting faster and faster with each passing day. We still have to baby proof the house. Now if I have to leave the room for a second I have to put him in the Pack 'n Play whereas before I just left knowing he would be in the same spot I left him in. Oh, there is so much to do!
Now that he's crawling we have to put carpet in his room. The floors are pine, a softwood, that have had 81 years of abuse and neglect. I don't think they can just be refinished, a lot of boards would need to be replaced because the grooves are so deep; that and the previous owner had a dog that wasn't so well house trained if you know what I mean. I hear stains on pine are near impossible to get out because the wood is so soft that the liquid really penetrates the fiber.
Ryan's step-dad has some cute carpet squares that he got from a church's nursery, they have bird houses and birds and butterflies on them that he is going to give to us.
Right now would be a great time to clean the house. Ryan's in bed and Gavin finally went to sleep so it's just me; even the dog is asleep. But now is also a great time to blog, besides, cleaning is noisy and it wouldn't be very nice of me to wake the boys.
Maybe tomorrow will be more productive. We'll see. If I count on a day to clean and do laundry then I can count on something going wrong (like a wonderful baby turning cranky and refusing naps) so I'm going to take tomorrow as it comes.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Perspective
I just found out that a woman I used to work with has breast cancer. Heather is only two years older than me. We could have bumped into each other at the Swedish Breast Center where she was diagnosed as I've been going there off and on for 6 months now.
How different our stories are. I found a lump and had a biopsy. It was negative. She found a lump and had a biopsy. It was positive. Her form of cancer is super nasty and aggressive. She has so many decisions to make in such a short period of time, the ramifications of which are extraordinary. Should she freeze her eggs, freeze embryos, have a lumpectomy or a mastectomy?
Heather has a blog which she is sharing with everyone; I've included a link on my home page. Check it out. Reading her words is like taking a trip into her head; you really feel like you are with her on her journey through this disease. It is her hope that her transparency will help others who are going through this and that others may see themselves in her and get checked.
I don't know what to do or what to say to her. I want to be there for her, I want to help her. I do know that you aren't supposed to just say, "If there is anything I can do for you, just call." No one calls when they need help. So far she said she would take help with meals but she can't eat too many carbs and no meat. Does anyone out there have any good and tasty vegetarian recipes that are light on the carbs?
Is there anyone out there who has had cancer and can tell me how I can best be a friend during this time to someone with cancer? It seems asking Heather what she needs would be the obvious way to find out but this is so new to her that she may not even know what she needs. But then I feel like I'm being presumptuous. Argh. I guess even a friend has to muddle through, right?
If you decide you don't want to read her blog, that's fine, just be sure to do monthly breast exams, ladies. Early detection is so important. I saw a pamphlet at the Breast Center on my last visit, I think I still have it my purse. I had two pamphlets, the first is titled, "Have You Been to a Check Your Boobies Party?" the website is http://www.checkyourboobies.org/ My one beef with the pamphlet - they have a picture of a breast on one of the pages. It is a perfect boob. Why? Why not have a picture of a normal boob? Not that my much maligned boob looks normal now - nor am I offering my boob up for a photo shoot. It has scar tissue that will hopefully fade over time but I can't complain too much, now can I? Everything was negative.
The other pamphlet is for the organization American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I picked up the pamphlet while I was waiting at Than Brother's for my to go order of Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup). A month or so ago I heard an advertisement on the radio for Out of the Darkness Overnight, a walk to raise awareness for suicide prevention (and depression, which, obviously can lead to suicide). The Seattle walk is June 21st. I don't think I'll be up for it since my foot will be newly out of the boot at that point so I can give it a plug here - go to TheOvernight.org for more information.
When I heard the advertisement for the walk I really wanted to participate because I want to help take away the stigma that our society gives to depression. It makes people uncomfortable to talk about depression and suicide and I think if we become more comfortable talking about it more people will seek help and less people will commit suicide.
It doesn't bother me to tell people that I take an antidepressant; it bothers people to hear that I take an antidepressant. I have taken various ones over the years. Drugs help me. So does the sun. I buy full spectrum light bulbs for our light fixtures in the house so my brain is tricked into thinking its getting more sun that it really is.
When we start trying for baby #2 I'm going to have to quit taking Zoloft. I wonder how I'm going to do without it. I've been pretty good about trying to connect with other mothers who have babies close to Gavin's age in an attempt to keep me sane. I try to leave the house every day and have contact with the outside world. I will probably have to double up on those efforts when we start trying to conceive. I'm sure I could do ok without drugs by making sure I get plenty of fresh air and exposure to the sun (or the rays that manage to break through the clouds that are present October 1st - July 5th), eat a well balanced diet, get lots of exercise and meditate daily.
It is so much easier to take a pill.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. That is a horrible attitude but you know what? I know me. I know me pretty darn well. I am the kind of person who wishes her house was organized, that every paper clip had a home, where every scrap of paper was in its place, where every towel in the linen closet is folded perfectly, where every sock has its mate, all of the clothes in her closet are arranged by color then season and are all ironed and facing the same direction.
I want that but so long as it is my house and I'm in charge of it, it ain't happenin'. And you know what? I am coming to terms with that reality. I am 31 and I am just getting used to the idea that I don't have to be perfect to be happy. In my head I have always known that perfection is impossible and even if it were possible it wouldn't guarantee happiness but something, somewhere inside of me still believed that if I put my house in order then all will be well with my world.
I'm willing to settle for a clean house with a messy closet (or two). Now that I'm walking I am better able to clean the house but I'm still not 100%. Walking with this boot is not easy. I'm fooling myself into thinking that as soon as the boot comes off I will turn into Martha Stewart and start keeping house like a 'real' housewife. I bet my house would be only slightly cleaner than it is now if I was at home and didn't have Gavin to occupy my time.
How different our stories are. I found a lump and had a biopsy. It was negative. She found a lump and had a biopsy. It was positive. Her form of cancer is super nasty and aggressive. She has so many decisions to make in such a short period of time, the ramifications of which are extraordinary. Should she freeze her eggs, freeze embryos, have a lumpectomy or a mastectomy?
Heather has a blog which she is sharing with everyone; I've included a link on my home page. Check it out. Reading her words is like taking a trip into her head; you really feel like you are with her on her journey through this disease. It is her hope that her transparency will help others who are going through this and that others may see themselves in her and get checked.
I don't know what to do or what to say to her. I want to be there for her, I want to help her. I do know that you aren't supposed to just say, "If there is anything I can do for you, just call." No one calls when they need help. So far she said she would take help with meals but she can't eat too many carbs and no meat. Does anyone out there have any good and tasty vegetarian recipes that are light on the carbs?
Is there anyone out there who has had cancer and can tell me how I can best be a friend during this time to someone with cancer? It seems asking Heather what she needs would be the obvious way to find out but this is so new to her that she may not even know what she needs. But then I feel like I'm being presumptuous. Argh. I guess even a friend has to muddle through, right?
If you decide you don't want to read her blog, that's fine, just be sure to do monthly breast exams, ladies. Early detection is so important. I saw a pamphlet at the Breast Center on my last visit, I think I still have it my purse. I had two pamphlets, the first is titled, "Have You Been to a Check Your Boobies Party?" the website is http://www.checkyourboobies.org/ My one beef with the pamphlet - they have a picture of a breast on one of the pages. It is a perfect boob. Why? Why not have a picture of a normal boob? Not that my much maligned boob looks normal now - nor am I offering my boob up for a photo shoot. It has scar tissue that will hopefully fade over time but I can't complain too much, now can I? Everything was negative.
The other pamphlet is for the organization American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I picked up the pamphlet while I was waiting at Than Brother's for my to go order of Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup). A month or so ago I heard an advertisement on the radio for Out of the Darkness Overnight, a walk to raise awareness for suicide prevention (and depression, which, obviously can lead to suicide). The Seattle walk is June 21st. I don't think I'll be up for it since my foot will be newly out of the boot at that point so I can give it a plug here - go to TheOvernight.org for more information.
When I heard the advertisement for the walk I really wanted to participate because I want to help take away the stigma that our society gives to depression. It makes people uncomfortable to talk about depression and suicide and I think if we become more comfortable talking about it more people will seek help and less people will commit suicide.
It doesn't bother me to tell people that I take an antidepressant; it bothers people to hear that I take an antidepressant. I have taken various ones over the years. Drugs help me. So does the sun. I buy full spectrum light bulbs for our light fixtures in the house so my brain is tricked into thinking its getting more sun that it really is.
When we start trying for baby #2 I'm going to have to quit taking Zoloft. I wonder how I'm going to do without it. I've been pretty good about trying to connect with other mothers who have babies close to Gavin's age in an attempt to keep me sane. I try to leave the house every day and have contact with the outside world. I will probably have to double up on those efforts when we start trying to conceive. I'm sure I could do ok without drugs by making sure I get plenty of fresh air and exposure to the sun (or the rays that manage to break through the clouds that are present October 1st - July 5th), eat a well balanced diet, get lots of exercise and meditate daily.
It is so much easier to take a pill.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. That is a horrible attitude but you know what? I know me. I know me pretty darn well. I am the kind of person who wishes her house was organized, that every paper clip had a home, where every scrap of paper was in its place, where every towel in the linen closet is folded perfectly, where every sock has its mate, all of the clothes in her closet are arranged by color then season and are all ironed and facing the same direction.
I want that but so long as it is my house and I'm in charge of it, it ain't happenin'. And you know what? I am coming to terms with that reality. I am 31 and I am just getting used to the idea that I don't have to be perfect to be happy. In my head I have always known that perfection is impossible and even if it were possible it wouldn't guarantee happiness but something, somewhere inside of me still believed that if I put my house in order then all will be well with my world.
I'm willing to settle for a clean house with a messy closet (or two). Now that I'm walking I am better able to clean the house but I'm still not 100%. Walking with this boot is not easy. I'm fooling myself into thinking that as soon as the boot comes off I will turn into Martha Stewart and start keeping house like a 'real' housewife. I bet my house would be only slightly cleaner than it is now if I was at home and didn't have Gavin to occupy my time.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Lunges
Gavin crawled this evening! He's been in the crawl position and rocking back and forth for a week or so now but today he got so worked up watching the dog that he lunged for her and actually moved forward. He didn't stop with the first lunge and continued, rock, rock, rock, lunge and he kept scooting forward. Ryan and I sat there in amazement and said, "He's crawling!"
Of course Gavin decided the best time to try out his new skills was in the middle of a diaper change. I usually manage to get the diaper off before he flips over onto his stomach. I take a number of kicks to the arms and legs as I clean him up. After he was cleaned up he rolled over and just took off after the dog. I was torn, let him crawl around and risk having him pee all over the area rug or put a diaper on and interrupt his first real crawl. I let him crawl.
Of course Gavin decided the best time to try out his new skills was in the middle of a diaper change. I usually manage to get the diaper off before he flips over onto his stomach. I take a number of kicks to the arms and legs as I clean him up. After he was cleaned up he rolled over and just took off after the dog. I was torn, let him crawl around and risk having him pee all over the area rug or put a diaper on and interrupt his first real crawl. I let him crawl.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Long Day and Even Longer Night
Today was exhausting. At a quarter to noon I knew I had to start getting Gavin and myself ready for our day in West Seattle that was to begin with lunch at 1:00. I went all out getting ready by pulling my hair back and applying mascara after I slathered on moisturizer with a squirt of foundation mixed in. I told you I went all out, foundation and mascara.
Our first stop was at Blue Willow Catering and Luncheonette on Oregon and California. There I met up with my former bosses and an agent from Keller Williams. I enjoyed the conversation as much as I enjoyed the unbelievable French Quiche. Their food is Delicious - its so good it gets a capital 'D'. I was slightly bummed that they didn't have their hummus on the specials board.
When Blue Willow first opened for lunch I was pregnant and ate lunch there frequently because they make a great chicken Cesar salad without using raw egg products. Since they were new and word that they served the best food in the Junction hadn't spread yet I would ask for the hummus and the owner would whip up a plate for me since they weren't too busy. I felt so special but no more. They are too busy to and I'm not pregnant - that belly and my big brown eyes and sheepish smile go a long way - now I just have to call ahead and ask if they have hummus on their menu for the day. Their hummus is worth a trip to West Seattle.
Gavin's appointment went well; he cried only briefly when the MA gave him his shot. Dr. Fiala thinks his frequent wakings at night are behavioral and not related to him being hungry because he is big enough that his last evening meal should be sufficient. She gave me some options: keep feeding him in the night or don't. She was very nice about it and told me she didn't follow her own advice with her first daughter. Tonight is the first night we are trying what she has told me in the past: let him cry for 15 minutes, go in his room, pat his tummy or put on his back and say, "It's time to sleep now, goodnight," then leave the room and repeat. She said if we do it now it will only take 3 nights but if we wait until he is 18 months it could take weeks and by that time he will know how to crawl out of his crib and will climb out and go to the door and bang his head against it until he falls asleep in front of the door.
That was all I needed to hear to realize I wanted to do sleep training now and not later. This is not the same as crying it out. At least I don't think it is because we will still go in at regular intervals to let him know we are still there until he falls asleep. We are trying to model our parenting after the attachment method that Dr. Sears teaches. My main beef with the attachment parenting is that I cannot find their advice on what do with frequent night wakings besides pick him up and feed him. I think what we are going to do starting tonight is a nice middle ground between the attachment parenting and the crying it out methodology.
Oooh, Gavin's lighting up the monitor into the red zone. I think it's time for the first visit. I'll let you know how it goes...
Not well.
I picked him up, kissed him, told him I loved him and that it was time to sleep before laying him back down. I don't know who this is going to be harder on, me or Gavin. I so just want to sit in the glider and nurse him then hold him and pat his back as he sleeps before I lay him back in his crib. That is my favorite part of the nighttime feedings; holding him against my chest and patting his back and kissing his temple as he sleeps. He is so precious; I can't stand to hear him scream.
If these last four minutes are any indication it is going to be a long, long, loud night with tears all around.
To keep my mind of my screaming son down the hall and his clear confusion as to why his beloved Mommy would deny him his midnight drink of warm milk I'll write about the rest of my day.
I parked at toward the south end of the Junction so I could stop at Georgia Blu and get a gift for my yet to be born niece in Virginia, I would say what it is but I think my sister-in-law reads this, and while in there I saw the cutest tent. I commented to the sales woman that the tent with 50's-ish printed cowboys on it was adorable. She said everyone loved it but they were having a hard time selling it. How much, I asked. $200.
Well, I think I found out why they aren't selling it. Sure it's cute but $200 for a tent that is clearly made for indoor use? C'mon.
After I left Georgia Blu I was waiting at the crosswalk on my knee scooter with Gavin in the Ergo minding my own business and out of the corner of my eye I could see two men stop the conversation they were having as they were facing each other and turn and stare at me. They may have thought they were being subtle but I could see them pointing at me and talking about me; I was only a few feet away. At one point I turned and looked at them but they didn't notice because they were too busy looking at the scooter and the baby. I was tempted to ask them if they had any questions I could answer.
My next stop was a brief one at Cupcake Royale. They serve up a mean cup of joe and I was jonesing for an Americano (one thing Blue Willow doesn't do exceptionally well is coffee). No sooner did the door close behind me than Gavin started yelling. A boy sitting with his mom and sister commented on my scooter. I heard the mom say something but didn't catch it so I turned and said, "The baby or this?" as I pointed to the scooter. He thought the scooter was pretty cool. I told him it was at first but that it wasn't so much after 6 weeks.
15 minutes are up. Time to go comfort Gavin and let him know I haven't abandoned him.
I feel like a cold hearted wench right now. What kind of mother lets her baby scream like this? Even after he falls asleep and I hear the aftermath of his crying each hiccough and sigh will be like a dagger in my heart.
He's starting to fade and it is about time for me to go back in for round three but I'm afraid if I go in now when he's fading I'll just be adding fuel to the fire. OK, it sounds like he just added a heap of coal to the fire and I won't be in .... no, now he's quiet.
Where was I? Ah, yes. Cupcake Royale. The line was longer than I wanted to wait in with a crying baby so I decided to go straight to the podiatrist's office and so I scooted my way around the block to his office. Gavin managed to fall asleep in the carrier on the ride over....
OK, Gavin time.
Well, that was just awful. I just repositioned him and fought the urge to hold him. Too bad he doesn't understand, "I love you," yet.
Good news from the doctor: I can walk! OK, I've had the ability to walk this whole time but I was given the green light so now I may walk. Woo-hoo! If using the scooter got looks before walking back to my car while pulling the scooter behind me lent itself to garnering a whole different kind of look.
In two more weeks I can shed the boot and a month after that the screws will be removed from my foot. In the meantime I have to work on the flexibility of my big toe three times a day for 10-15 minutes per session. A big toe stretching exercise doesn't sound like much but man it hurts! It feels like a knuckle that is at the painful point just before it pops - and just when my toe is at that point I'm supposed to hold it there for 30 seconds. But I will be diligent about the exercises because I want to be able to get back to normal walking ASAP.
Ahh! The screaming! It's not annoying, it's painful to listen to. That's my baby in there crying. He has big fat tears streaming down his sweet cheeks. I must be strong. He needs to sleep better for his own sake, too. Two and three hours at a time isn't healthy for him either.
Since I knew tonight was going to be difficult I rented Ratatouille and bought some stress food. Candy. The licorice is gone, now I have Nips candy. I just ate a Twinkie and cannot believe I thought those were crafted by dessert gods when I was a kid. Yuck. My memory of Twinkies is a far cry from what I just ingested.
It is almost time for my fourth visit to Gavin. After this visit I'm going to start Ratatouille. I have to watch it on the laptop since our Phillips DVR/DVD player SUCKS. We call it Ovit since we bought it after we bought a TiVo when our DVD player broke. The DVR part of it is not at all intuitive like the far superior TiVo - even Ryan can't figure it out and that's saying a lot - and the DVD part of it skips and freezes. I think it's time we get rid of it and buy a DVD player, plain and simple.
The hiccoughs started. Nope, back to crying. Silence. It has been 56 minutes since he woke up. I just peaked at him on the monitor, his head was bobbing with each hiccough and he is facing the opposite direction from when I put him in.
Ah. He's asleep. I think. I hope.
Our first stop was at Blue Willow Catering and Luncheonette on Oregon and California. There I met up with my former bosses and an agent from Keller Williams. I enjoyed the conversation as much as I enjoyed the unbelievable French Quiche. Their food is Delicious - its so good it gets a capital 'D'. I was slightly bummed that they didn't have their hummus on the specials board.
When Blue Willow first opened for lunch I was pregnant and ate lunch there frequently because they make a great chicken Cesar salad without using raw egg products. Since they were new and word that they served the best food in the Junction hadn't spread yet I would ask for the hummus and the owner would whip up a plate for me since they weren't too busy. I felt so special but no more. They are too busy to and I'm not pregnant - that belly and my big brown eyes and sheepish smile go a long way - now I just have to call ahead and ask if they have hummus on their menu for the day. Their hummus is worth a trip to West Seattle.
Gavin's appointment went well; he cried only briefly when the MA gave him his shot. Dr. Fiala thinks his frequent wakings at night are behavioral and not related to him being hungry because he is big enough that his last evening meal should be sufficient. She gave me some options: keep feeding him in the night or don't. She was very nice about it and told me she didn't follow her own advice with her first daughter. Tonight is the first night we are trying what she has told me in the past: let him cry for 15 minutes, go in his room, pat his tummy or put on his back and say, "It's time to sleep now, goodnight," then leave the room and repeat. She said if we do it now it will only take 3 nights but if we wait until he is 18 months it could take weeks and by that time he will know how to crawl out of his crib and will climb out and go to the door and bang his head against it until he falls asleep in front of the door.
That was all I needed to hear to realize I wanted to do sleep training now and not later. This is not the same as crying it out. At least I don't think it is because we will still go in at regular intervals to let him know we are still there until he falls asleep. We are trying to model our parenting after the attachment method that Dr. Sears teaches. My main beef with the attachment parenting is that I cannot find their advice on what do with frequent night wakings besides pick him up and feed him. I think what we are going to do starting tonight is a nice middle ground between the attachment parenting and the crying it out methodology.
Oooh, Gavin's lighting up the monitor into the red zone. I think it's time for the first visit. I'll let you know how it goes...
Not well.
I picked him up, kissed him, told him I loved him and that it was time to sleep before laying him back down. I don't know who this is going to be harder on, me or Gavin. I so just want to sit in the glider and nurse him then hold him and pat his back as he sleeps before I lay him back in his crib. That is my favorite part of the nighttime feedings; holding him against my chest and patting his back and kissing his temple as he sleeps. He is so precious; I can't stand to hear him scream.
If these last four minutes are any indication it is going to be a long, long, loud night with tears all around.
To keep my mind of my screaming son down the hall and his clear confusion as to why his beloved Mommy would deny him his midnight drink of warm milk I'll write about the rest of my day.
I parked at toward the south end of the Junction so I could stop at Georgia Blu and get a gift for my yet to be born niece in Virginia, I would say what it is but I think my sister-in-law reads this, and while in there I saw the cutest tent. I commented to the sales woman that the tent with 50's-ish printed cowboys on it was adorable. She said everyone loved it but they were having a hard time selling it. How much, I asked. $200.
Well, I think I found out why they aren't selling it. Sure it's cute but $200 for a tent that is clearly made for indoor use? C'mon.
After I left Georgia Blu I was waiting at the crosswalk on my knee scooter with Gavin in the Ergo minding my own business and out of the corner of my eye I could see two men stop the conversation they were having as they were facing each other and turn and stare at me. They may have thought they were being subtle but I could see them pointing at me and talking about me; I was only a few feet away. At one point I turned and looked at them but they didn't notice because they were too busy looking at the scooter and the baby. I was tempted to ask them if they had any questions I could answer.
My next stop was a brief one at Cupcake Royale. They serve up a mean cup of joe and I was jonesing for an Americano (one thing Blue Willow doesn't do exceptionally well is coffee). No sooner did the door close behind me than Gavin started yelling. A boy sitting with his mom and sister commented on my scooter. I heard the mom say something but didn't catch it so I turned and said, "The baby or this?" as I pointed to the scooter. He thought the scooter was pretty cool. I told him it was at first but that it wasn't so much after 6 weeks.
15 minutes are up. Time to go comfort Gavin and let him know I haven't abandoned him.
I feel like a cold hearted wench right now. What kind of mother lets her baby scream like this? Even after he falls asleep and I hear the aftermath of his crying each hiccough and sigh will be like a dagger in my heart.
He's starting to fade and it is about time for me to go back in for round three but I'm afraid if I go in now when he's fading I'll just be adding fuel to the fire. OK, it sounds like he just added a heap of coal to the fire and I won't be in .... no, now he's quiet.
Where was I? Ah, yes. Cupcake Royale. The line was longer than I wanted to wait in with a crying baby so I decided to go straight to the podiatrist's office and so I scooted my way around the block to his office. Gavin managed to fall asleep in the carrier on the ride over....
OK, Gavin time.
Well, that was just awful. I just repositioned him and fought the urge to hold him. Too bad he doesn't understand, "I love you," yet.
Good news from the doctor: I can walk! OK, I've had the ability to walk this whole time but I was given the green light so now I may walk. Woo-hoo! If using the scooter got looks before walking back to my car while pulling the scooter behind me lent itself to garnering a whole different kind of look.
In two more weeks I can shed the boot and a month after that the screws will be removed from my foot. In the meantime I have to work on the flexibility of my big toe three times a day for 10-15 minutes per session. A big toe stretching exercise doesn't sound like much but man it hurts! It feels like a knuckle that is at the painful point just before it pops - and just when my toe is at that point I'm supposed to hold it there for 30 seconds. But I will be diligent about the exercises because I want to be able to get back to normal walking ASAP.
Ahh! The screaming! It's not annoying, it's painful to listen to. That's my baby in there crying. He has big fat tears streaming down his sweet cheeks. I must be strong. He needs to sleep better for his own sake, too. Two and three hours at a time isn't healthy for him either.
Since I knew tonight was going to be difficult I rented Ratatouille and bought some stress food. Candy. The licorice is gone, now I have Nips candy. I just ate a Twinkie and cannot believe I thought those were crafted by dessert gods when I was a kid. Yuck. My memory of Twinkies is a far cry from what I just ingested.
It is almost time for my fourth visit to Gavin. After this visit I'm going to start Ratatouille. I have to watch it on the laptop since our Phillips DVR/DVD player SUCKS. We call it Ovit since we bought it after we bought a TiVo when our DVD player broke. The DVR part of it is not at all intuitive like the far superior TiVo - even Ryan can't figure it out and that's saying a lot - and the DVD part of it skips and freezes. I think it's time we get rid of it and buy a DVD player, plain and simple.
The hiccoughs started. Nope, back to crying. Silence. It has been 56 minutes since he woke up. I just peaked at him on the monitor, his head was bobbing with each hiccough and he is facing the opposite direction from when I put him in.
Ah. He's asleep. I think. I hope.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Milestone?
Gavin may or may not be crawling. He is doing something that is movement that resembles crawling but Ryan and I cannot agree on what that movement should be called. I think its crawling because he is definitely moving from a fixed point with purpose toward another point. Granted the movement is slow and the distance covered is an inch or two but it is still movement. If he can't get to the object he wants he will find something closer and roll over and pivot until he gets to something, anything, he can try to put in his mouth or grab, like, say, a fistful of dog hair or a cat's tail.
The is he crawling or not question reminds me of the Is-it-gas-or-a-smile question. Ryan and I had asked ourselves that a lot when Gavin was a few weeks old. With every facial grimace that could remotely resemble a grin we would exclaim, "He smiled! Did he? Was it a smile or gas?" Of course Gavin settled that question long ago with his big toothless, open mouth smiles - now they are big, open mouth two bottom teeth smiles which are often accompanied by squeals and screams.
Now that he is doing this thing that is kind of crawling we are doing the same thing but this time we know it is not gas. He still has gas but nothing that is propelling him across the carpet.
Watch out!
I wonder throughout the day if Gavin gets bored. We have three 'stations' of play in the living room. On the floor with a pile of blocks, stacking rings, rattles and a few plush toys then there is the exersaucer and the Johnny Jump Up. We go from station to station after naps and eating. I forgot a station: my lap. We sit and read books or sing songs or try to pet the dog with gentle strokes. Try is the operative word. He's going to think the label that goes with dog is 'gentle' instead of 'dog'.
Now that Gavin is interested in the animals in the house I think it is time to take him to the zoo. I don't know who will be more excited about the trip, me or him. I haven't been to the local zoo and I've been in Seattle almost 7 years. When we go I'm going to buy the yearly pass because I bet it won't be 7 years between visits.
Before we can go to the zoo I need to be released from this stupid boot. Recovery was only supposed to be 4-6 weeks. I don't recall being told that I would be in this boot for any period longer than 6 weeks. Of course I'm not going to take it off before the doctor tells me I can and I understand that the healing process doesn't always follow the prescribed plan but I wish it would!
Tomorrow I will see the podiatrist and present my scrawny shell of a leg to him so he can poke and prod it to see where my pain level is at. It usually goes something like this (imagine him running a toothpick across my foot or twisting, pulling and poking it):
Dr.: Tell me when it hurts
Me: ok... nope, nope, eh, a little, ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!
Dr.: hm (with a slight look of concern on his face).
Uh oh. Gavin just cried. Maybe he'll go back to sleep although I doubt it since he's been stirring for the last five or so minutes. He's only been asleep for 3 hours. Right on schedule. Last night he woke up 4 times. FOUR TIMES. Ryan has been great though because after the four a.m. waking he can't go back to sleep so if Gavin doesn't go back to sleep after I nurse him Ryan will take the little guy with him out into the living room.
I'm not the only one with a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Gavin is going to see his doctor as well. He's going to get checked out a bit and maybe we will figure out why he quit sleeping through the night oh so very long ago. He's also going to get a shot, which one I don't know off the top of my head.
Next month he is going to have an ultrasound on his kidneys and a VCUG. I don't remember what VCUG stands for but it is a test where they measure the volume of the bladder; if I remember correctly they measure it full and after it has been emptied. I'm not quite sure how they do that with an infant who has no control over his bladder, though.
His doctor ordered these tests because he had a bladder infection a couple of weeks ago. She was baffled as to why he would have a bladder infection - I asked and she told me that him being uncircumcised only slightly increases his chances of getting such an infection and she told me (without me asking) that this infection is no reason to have him circumcised. She thinks the tests are going to come back negative but is doing them to be safe since it is unusual for an infant, especially a boy, to get a bladder infection.
He did go back to sleep! Woo-hoo!!!
Tomorrow I'm also picking up my new glasses! I've had my current pair of glasses at least 7 years and it's been 6 years since my last eye exam. I don't remember if I posted on this or not but my eyesight has improved a little. The optometrist thinks its because I'm not sitting in front of a computer screen all day long anymore.
I know a few of you who read this (Crina) would like to see a picture of me in the new glasses. I'm going to beat you to the request. No. Sorry. I cannot promise to take a picture and upload it or e-mail it. Look, it took me nearly 8 months to upload pictures of Gavin and distribute them. We should be heading to the 'Couv soon (and by soon I mean maybe this summer) and we can meet up then and you can see them in person. We haven't been to Vancouver since Christmas! I need to make the rounds the next time we are down there and introduce Gavin to all of the wonderful ladies who attended my baby shower.
Now when I think of my baby shower I think of my friend Crina's baby shower which was a couple of months before mine. Her mom made Romanian cabbage rolls for me. Yum!!! I've been craving them again. I devoured the cabbage rolls her mom sent home with me within a week. If you google Romanian cabbage rolls a lot of recipes pop up; I'm going to have to ask Crina's mom which recipe most closely resembles hers.
If you are reading this and thinking to yourself, "Wow, April's nuts for writing about cabbage rolls. Who really cares?" then you my friend, have never had a Romanian cabbage roll for if you had you too would be writing of the deliciousness that is contained within the cabbage leaf - stuffed with pork and beef and spices and rice. They are nothing like the tomato sauce cabbage rolls of my youth (sorry, mom) - these contain far less cabbage and a lot more meat. Can't go wrong with pork - unless you are Jewish, or Muslim, or... what other religions disallow the consumption of the delicious pig? Eh. I'm so glad the apostle Paul had that dream... wait, was it Peter? The dream where God told him to not call unclean what he has made? The dream that gave the green light on pork. I suppose I could just google it (my bible is in the bedroom and I don't want to wake Ryan). It is past my bedtime but I don't want to go to bed because I know the second I get to that comfy sleepy dreamland place Gavin is going to wake up.
Besides, I should take a bath tonight because tomorrow is going to be a full day and I probably won't get a chance to take a bath tomorrow. I will have to choose between a nap and a bath and sleep usually wins out but who wants to go to the doctor all dirty? Fooey. I'll take a bath tonight since it is easier to stay awake now then to wake up early tomorrow to take a bath while Ryan is still home.
The is he crawling or not question reminds me of the Is-it-gas-or-a-smile question. Ryan and I had asked ourselves that a lot when Gavin was a few weeks old. With every facial grimace that could remotely resemble a grin we would exclaim, "He smiled! Did he? Was it a smile or gas?" Of course Gavin settled that question long ago with his big toothless, open mouth smiles - now they are big, open mouth two bottom teeth smiles which are often accompanied by squeals and screams.
Now that he is doing this thing that is kind of crawling we are doing the same thing but this time we know it is not gas. He still has gas but nothing that is propelling him across the carpet.
Watch out!
I wonder throughout the day if Gavin gets bored. We have three 'stations' of play in the living room. On the floor with a pile of blocks, stacking rings, rattles and a few plush toys then there is the exersaucer and the Johnny Jump Up. We go from station to station after naps and eating. I forgot a station: my lap. We sit and read books or sing songs or try to pet the dog with gentle strokes. Try is the operative word. He's going to think the label that goes with dog is 'gentle' instead of 'dog'.
Now that Gavin is interested in the animals in the house I think it is time to take him to the zoo. I don't know who will be more excited about the trip, me or him. I haven't been to the local zoo and I've been in Seattle almost 7 years. When we go I'm going to buy the yearly pass because I bet it won't be 7 years between visits.
Before we can go to the zoo I need to be released from this stupid boot. Recovery was only supposed to be 4-6 weeks. I don't recall being told that I would be in this boot for any period longer than 6 weeks. Of course I'm not going to take it off before the doctor tells me I can and I understand that the healing process doesn't always follow the prescribed plan but I wish it would!
Tomorrow I will see the podiatrist and present my scrawny shell of a leg to him so he can poke and prod it to see where my pain level is at. It usually goes something like this (imagine him running a toothpick across my foot or twisting, pulling and poking it):
Dr.: Tell me when it hurts
Me: ok... nope, nope, eh, a little, ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!
Dr.: hm (with a slight look of concern on his face).
Uh oh. Gavin just cried. Maybe he'll go back to sleep although I doubt it since he's been stirring for the last five or so minutes. He's only been asleep for 3 hours. Right on schedule. Last night he woke up 4 times. FOUR TIMES. Ryan has been great though because after the four a.m. waking he can't go back to sleep so if Gavin doesn't go back to sleep after I nurse him Ryan will take the little guy with him out into the living room.
I'm not the only one with a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Gavin is going to see his doctor as well. He's going to get checked out a bit and maybe we will figure out why he quit sleeping through the night oh so very long ago. He's also going to get a shot, which one I don't know off the top of my head.
Next month he is going to have an ultrasound on his kidneys and a VCUG. I don't remember what VCUG stands for but it is a test where they measure the volume of the bladder; if I remember correctly they measure it full and after it has been emptied. I'm not quite sure how they do that with an infant who has no control over his bladder, though.
His doctor ordered these tests because he had a bladder infection a couple of weeks ago. She was baffled as to why he would have a bladder infection - I asked and she told me that him being uncircumcised only slightly increases his chances of getting such an infection and she told me (without me asking) that this infection is no reason to have him circumcised. She thinks the tests are going to come back negative but is doing them to be safe since it is unusual for an infant, especially a boy, to get a bladder infection.
He did go back to sleep! Woo-hoo!!!
Tomorrow I'm also picking up my new glasses! I've had my current pair of glasses at least 7 years and it's been 6 years since my last eye exam. I don't remember if I posted on this or not but my eyesight has improved a little. The optometrist thinks its because I'm not sitting in front of a computer screen all day long anymore.
I know a few of you who read this (Crina) would like to see a picture of me in the new glasses. I'm going to beat you to the request. No. Sorry. I cannot promise to take a picture and upload it or e-mail it. Look, it took me nearly 8 months to upload pictures of Gavin and distribute them. We should be heading to the 'Couv soon (and by soon I mean maybe this summer) and we can meet up then and you can see them in person. We haven't been to Vancouver since Christmas! I need to make the rounds the next time we are down there and introduce Gavin to all of the wonderful ladies who attended my baby shower.
Now when I think of my baby shower I think of my friend Crina's baby shower which was a couple of months before mine. Her mom made Romanian cabbage rolls for me. Yum!!! I've been craving them again. I devoured the cabbage rolls her mom sent home with me within a week. If you google Romanian cabbage rolls a lot of recipes pop up; I'm going to have to ask Crina's mom which recipe most closely resembles hers.
If you are reading this and thinking to yourself, "Wow, April's nuts for writing about cabbage rolls. Who really cares?" then you my friend, have never had a Romanian cabbage roll for if you had you too would be writing of the deliciousness that is contained within the cabbage leaf - stuffed with pork and beef and spices and rice. They are nothing like the tomato sauce cabbage rolls of my youth (sorry, mom) - these contain far less cabbage and a lot more meat. Can't go wrong with pork - unless you are Jewish, or Muslim, or... what other religions disallow the consumption of the delicious pig? Eh. I'm so glad the apostle Paul had that dream... wait, was it Peter? The dream where God told him to not call unclean what he has made? The dream that gave the green light on pork. I suppose I could just google it (my bible is in the bedroom and I don't want to wake Ryan). It is past my bedtime but I don't want to go to bed because I know the second I get to that comfy sleepy dreamland place Gavin is going to wake up.
Besides, I should take a bath tonight because tomorrow is going to be a full day and I probably won't get a chance to take a bath tomorrow. I will have to choose between a nap and a bath and sleep usually wins out but who wants to go to the doctor all dirty? Fooey. I'll take a bath tonight since it is easier to stay awake now then to wake up early tomorrow to take a bath while Ryan is still home.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Demoted
I reached full weight bearing status on Monday! I had freedom to walk around! But with that freedom to walk about came pain. I called the podiatrist to see how much I could walk and if there should be any pain with walking. The person who was taking my message when I called asked me, in response to my question of how much I could walk, "How much walking are you going to do?" Me: "That's my question. How much can I walk?"
I waited for a call back but after 24 hours I called again. The nurse vaguely remembered something about me calling. They told me to come in to see the doc the next day and in the mean time I should be non-weight bearing. Of course they told me this while I was in my car on my way to pick out new glasses with a girlfriend.
There shouldn't be pain at this point when I walk and parts of my foot are numb is caused by the straps on the top of the boot being tight. When the straps are loose my foot feels better because here is less numbness and tingling but the straps are supposed to be tight when you walk in the boot. So the doc demoted me to half weight bearing which means I'm back on the crutches and using the scooter. Which means I'm confined to the house again during the day.
Hopefully he will have some better news for me when I see him next week because this is week six of the 4-6 week recovery period. I was fully expecting to be walking by now, and not in this huge boot. Boo-hoo for me.
I waited for a call back but after 24 hours I called again. The nurse vaguely remembered something about me calling. They told me to come in to see the doc the next day and in the mean time I should be non-weight bearing. Of course they told me this while I was in my car on my way to pick out new glasses with a girlfriend.
There shouldn't be pain at this point when I walk and parts of my foot are numb is caused by the straps on the top of the boot being tight. When the straps are loose my foot feels better because here is less numbness and tingling but the straps are supposed to be tight when you walk in the boot. So the doc demoted me to half weight bearing which means I'm back on the crutches and using the scooter. Which means I'm confined to the house again during the day.
Hopefully he will have some better news for me when I see him next week because this is week six of the 4-6 week recovery period. I was fully expecting to be walking by now, and not in this huge boot. Boo-hoo for me.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
S**T Happens
A friend recently had a post on her blog titled Spit Happens about her baby. This one is about the pooh, and I ain't talkin' of the Winnie variety.
Oh the wonderful places one can poo. One can poo in one's diaper. One can poo while taking a bath, while riding in the car, while eating dinner (or breakfast or lunch for that matter). But where is the best place of all to poo? The car, of course.
You gotta love babies, they are pretty transparent. Red face? Flared nostrils? Grunting? All signs are a go for a poo job.
This afternoon I picked up Ryan from work and we headed to Renton to buy a crib from Ikea and to kill two birds with one stone Ryan stopped by an office of some contractors he just worked with to hand out his business cards and spread the word that he's on his own now and available for hire...
So, Gavin and I waited in the car. The sun was shining and the wind blowing so I opened a door and we enjoyed the sunshine and breeze until a brazen bee charged me. The menacing thing flew right at me as I sat there trapped - to leave the car meant going past the bee that was blocking my exit. I threw my jacket at it but it was undeterred, it flew back and sat on the door jamb. This time he left enough room for me to get by, but just enough. I hopped out of the car and thought of slamming the door shut and squishing the bee but thought better of it. What if the bee flew inside the car before the door shut? It would be bee vs. baby and I think it would be a lose lose situation since Gavin would try eating the bee if he could get his hands on it. The bee made the situation easy, it flew away.
Gavin was getting fussy (red face, flared nostrils, grunting) so I took him out of his car seat. It was at that time I heard an explosion only rivaled by Mt. St. Helen's 28 years ago. This called for an immediate diaper change so I grabbed the diaper bag.
Uh-oh.
No wipes.
No changing pad.
I called Ryan and asked him to bring some wet paper towels with him when he returned to the car.
I laid my windbreaker on top of the blanket we keep in the car for the dog to lie on in the cargo area and laid Gavin on top of that. It was at that time I noticed my hand was wet. I sat Gavin up and peered over his back to see.... poo. Lots and lots of poo.
Apparently when I sat him down it forced everything up and out of his diaper. It was on his shirt, his pants and my jacket.
I cleaned him up the best I could and when Ryan came out we had a semi-clean naked baby in the back of the in the middle of the parking lot. Good times. I'm glad it was warm out. So is Gavin.
Fortunately we did have a change of clothes for the little guy and fortunately for me there were bathrooms I could use to scrub my hands. Don't want poopy hands touching baby furniture at Ikea, now do we?
******
We found a crib we could live with at Ikea. It was pretty simple, white, converts to a toddler bed. Great. What we couldn't find was the crib in the warehouse area. It was out of stock but coming in next week sometime. Lame.
We want a crib NOW not next week. We want Gavin sleeping in his own room NOW not next week so our next stop was Babies 'R Us. Ryan found a beautiful crib by Babi Italia for only $229. That is a steal for a beautiful crib by a good manufacturer. The only bummer was that we left our 15% off coupon at home and I would have to go back the next day and buy it. A helpful sales associate was trying to figure out a way we could take it home today and bring the coupon in later for a refund of the price difference. It was while she was doing this she looked the crib up and saw that it was out of stock. It was out of stock in the entire Puget Sound region and there was no indication of when the next shipment was going to come in!!!
We returned home very dejected. I got back on Craigslist to look for cribs. My main beef with cribs off Craigslist is that you have to ask each and every person for more information about their cribs because the post never gives all of the information you need, like year it was bought, manufacturer and model. The basics to see if it has been recalled.
I did find a lovely crib, however. It was recalled but the replacement parts have been put on it and it is safe. I have an e-mail out to the owner telling her I want to buy it tomorrow. Hopefully she will call me and we can get the crib and be done with all of this.
Someone lent us their crib but it's missing some parts and is going to take a couple of weeks to have the parts shipped to us so we decided to bite the bullet and just pony up for a crib. Now Ryan has to disassemble the crib as far as he was able to get and put in the basement for my friend to pick up and we have to return the cradle to my father-in-law who built it (it goes to each grandchild to use) so we can have room for the new crib. The cradle is great but Gavin only slept in it for about a month before he started sleeping in the swing then our bed. That little dude has gone from cradle to swing to co-sleeper to our bed to pack 'n play. The crib will be the sixth stop in sleeping arrangements for him.
And now before I shower and go to bed I have to go finish the applesauce that I started yesterday for my moms group. We all are making something to share and I volunteered to make applesauce. All I have to do now is puree the lumpy apples I cooked last night in the leaky blender we have been thinking about getting rid of for a couple of years now.
I'm so tired, the keys on the keyboard are getting harder and harder to press down on. I need to go to bed earlier and Gavin needs to stop waking up every two hours. Little turkey.
Oh the wonderful places one can poo. One can poo in one's diaper. One can poo while taking a bath, while riding in the car, while eating dinner (or breakfast or lunch for that matter). But where is the best place of all to poo? The car, of course.
You gotta love babies, they are pretty transparent. Red face? Flared nostrils? Grunting? All signs are a go for a poo job.
This afternoon I picked up Ryan from work and we headed to Renton to buy a crib from Ikea and to kill two birds with one stone Ryan stopped by an office of some contractors he just worked with to hand out his business cards and spread the word that he's on his own now and available for hire...
So, Gavin and I waited in the car. The sun was shining and the wind blowing so I opened a door and we enjoyed the sunshine and breeze until a brazen bee charged me. The menacing thing flew right at me as I sat there trapped - to leave the car meant going past the bee that was blocking my exit. I threw my jacket at it but it was undeterred, it flew back and sat on the door jamb. This time he left enough room for me to get by, but just enough. I hopped out of the car and thought of slamming the door shut and squishing the bee but thought better of it. What if the bee flew inside the car before the door shut? It would be bee vs. baby and I think it would be a lose lose situation since Gavin would try eating the bee if he could get his hands on it. The bee made the situation easy, it flew away.
Gavin was getting fussy (red face, flared nostrils, grunting) so I took him out of his car seat. It was at that time I heard an explosion only rivaled by Mt. St. Helen's 28 years ago. This called for an immediate diaper change so I grabbed the diaper bag.
Uh-oh.
No wipes.
No changing pad.
I called Ryan and asked him to bring some wet paper towels with him when he returned to the car.
I laid my windbreaker on top of the blanket we keep in the car for the dog to lie on in the cargo area and laid Gavin on top of that. It was at that time I noticed my hand was wet. I sat Gavin up and peered over his back to see.... poo. Lots and lots of poo.
Apparently when I sat him down it forced everything up and out of his diaper. It was on his shirt, his pants and my jacket.
I cleaned him up the best I could and when Ryan came out we had a semi-clean naked baby in the back of the in the middle of the parking lot. Good times. I'm glad it was warm out. So is Gavin.
Fortunately we did have a change of clothes for the little guy and fortunately for me there were bathrooms I could use to scrub my hands. Don't want poopy hands touching baby furniture at Ikea, now do we?
******
We found a crib we could live with at Ikea. It was pretty simple, white, converts to a toddler bed. Great. What we couldn't find was the crib in the warehouse area. It was out of stock but coming in next week sometime. Lame.
We want a crib NOW not next week. We want Gavin sleeping in his own room NOW not next week so our next stop was Babies 'R Us. Ryan found a beautiful crib by Babi Italia for only $229. That is a steal for a beautiful crib by a good manufacturer. The only bummer was that we left our 15% off coupon at home and I would have to go back the next day and buy it. A helpful sales associate was trying to figure out a way we could take it home today and bring the coupon in later for a refund of the price difference. It was while she was doing this she looked the crib up and saw that it was out of stock. It was out of stock in the entire Puget Sound region and there was no indication of when the next shipment was going to come in!!!
We returned home very dejected. I got back on Craigslist to look for cribs. My main beef with cribs off Craigslist is that you have to ask each and every person for more information about their cribs because the post never gives all of the information you need, like year it was bought, manufacturer and model. The basics to see if it has been recalled.
I did find a lovely crib, however. It was recalled but the replacement parts have been put on it and it is safe. I have an e-mail out to the owner telling her I want to buy it tomorrow. Hopefully she will call me and we can get the crib and be done with all of this.
Someone lent us their crib but it's missing some parts and is going to take a couple of weeks to have the parts shipped to us so we decided to bite the bullet and just pony up for a crib. Now Ryan has to disassemble the crib as far as he was able to get and put in the basement for my friend to pick up and we have to return the cradle to my father-in-law who built it (it goes to each grandchild to use) so we can have room for the new crib. The cradle is great but Gavin only slept in it for about a month before he started sleeping in the swing then our bed. That little dude has gone from cradle to swing to co-sleeper to our bed to pack 'n play. The crib will be the sixth stop in sleeping arrangements for him.
And now before I shower and go to bed I have to go finish the applesauce that I started yesterday for my moms group. We all are making something to share and I volunteered to make applesauce. All I have to do now is puree the lumpy apples I cooked last night in the leaky blender we have been thinking about getting rid of for a couple of years now.
I'm so tired, the keys on the keyboard are getting harder and harder to press down on. I need to go to bed earlier and Gavin needs to stop waking up every two hours. Little turkey.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Fettered Freedom
Over the past two weeks I have been gradually bearing more weight on my right leg per doctors orders. By Monday or Tuesday of next week I will be full weight bearing. Woo-hoo. Until then I can walk with the use of crutches to help me keep the full weight off my right foot.
I had another ultrasound today to check the breast that had all the problems (see posts from January or February if you want the gory details). Everything checked out fine, slightly improved. This time I don't have to go back for six more months - and if I'm good I will go in on time and not put it off like I did this last appointment that I was supposed to have scheduled for last month. I was just DONE with going to the doctor. I have to go for my foot and if Gavin needs something I'll take him but unless I turn purple or something looks like it's going to fall off I refuse to go to the doctor. Sheesh. I think I've fit a lifetime of medical visits in the first quarter of this year alone.
Are you curious about my freedom? We figured a way that I can leave the house with Gavin. Safely leave the house with Gavin. Now that I can walk down the stairs using both feet I realized I can put Gavin in the Ergo carrier and walk down the stairs, across the walk, down the second set of stairs, across the sidewalk and grassy strip to the car.
Ryan took me to the doctor's office today for my ultrasound and I was able to drive home - by MYSELF!!! To celebrate my freedom I went through the Starbucks drive-through for a single Americano and called my mom. When she asked me what I was doing I said, "I'm DRIVING!!!".
The real test for my freedom came when I arrived home.
Able to get out of the car - check
Able to get crutches out of the car - check
Able to put baby in the Ergo carrier - check
Able to carry grocery bag in left hand while holding left crutch - check
Able to carry coffee in right hand - No. I didn't even try. I left it on top of the car for a second trip.
Able to walk, crutch, carry baby and grocery bag simultaneously - check.
I did manage to carry Gavin and bag but it was a slow process.
S-L-O-W
Really, really slow.
After each step I stopped, centered myself and continued with the next step. Just as I reached the first set of stairs a woman scurried up to me and offered her assistance. I gladly handed her the bag of groceries as I made my way up the stairs; slowly made my way up the stairs. Even in my super slow-mo trek I still managed to lose my right crutch in a tangle of poppies that were trying to take over the staircase. The crutch fell and I stopped, the woman gasped. She picked up the crutch, I thanked her, and we continued up the stairs.
I thanked the woman profusely for her kindness and told her I would go put that baby in the house and come back out for the groceries if she would just leave them on the stairs - my plan the whole time. The woman was so nice - as I made my way in the house I looked up to see the woman get in her car and drive off. This woman pulled over just to help me. Isn't that so sweet!?
Once inside I put Gavin on the floor to play with some toys then I brought in the groceries and made a third trip for my coffee. Carrying coffee while using crutches is not the brightest thing in the world to do. At least the coffee had plenty of time to cool off while I made my way to and from the house so very slowly.
Before my bible study this evening I went to Westwood Village to buy some everyday drinking glasses as I noticed yesterday we are down to 6 tall glasses and 4 short glasses. Ryan loaded my scooter in the car so I could get around easily while shopping. Of course, getting the scooter out of the car in a tight parking space was challenging.
People don't know what to think when they see me scooting along a sidewalk or flying down an aisle in a store. As much as I am coming to loathe the scooter it is FUN to use at Costco or at the grocery store late at night when there aren't many customers. You can fly down the aisles. I feel like I'm 13 not 31 when I am zipping up and down the aisles. It is hard to maneuver on the sidewalks though, or on any sort of incline and going across bumps in the sidewalk hurt my knees. But it is worth it to get out of the house.
The Tonight Show is on right now; I look up every now and then and listen in while he interviews Jack Black and Clay Aiken. Here is a scary thought: I thought, "Hmm, Jack Black is kind of cute."
Ah! Jack Black!
Then I saw Clay Aiken and I thought, "Hmm, Clay Aiken is kind of scary looking."
eek - Conan O'Brien is up... he is just plain old funny looking. He's super rich, can he not afford to hire someone to style his hair more attractively? He and Donald Trump can start the Bad Hair Club for Filthy Rich Men.
That's all I have. I can come and go from the house as I so desire but won't because gas is freakin' expensive! It's over $4 a gallon! I am thinking if I want to leave the house I'm just going to take the bus. It will be a good reason to go to Pike Place and do some grocery shopping or get to learn the international district a bit. I need to find some good pho (pronounced "fuh") closer than Than Brothers in West Seattle or Pho Cyclo in SODO (south downtown).
Does anyone out there have a good pho recipe? Pho wha?
Pho is a delicious Vietnamese noodle soup. You can have it with chicken or beef or tofu and you add cilantro, basil, bean sprouts, hoisen sauce, hot sauce, soy sauce, fish sauce and/or jalapenos. It is so yummy. At Than Brother's they give you enough to feed an army with their small and it's less than $5 and they give you a cream puff with your meal.
I'm so hungry for pho. I had it last weekend when Ryan's dad was out helping in the basement since there aren't any pho joints in Wenatchee. I can't say I'm surprised Wenatchee is short on Vietnamese restaurants.
It's time for me to call it a night but not before I scavenge in the kitchen for something that will satiate my craving for pho.
I had another ultrasound today to check the breast that had all the problems (see posts from January or February if you want the gory details). Everything checked out fine, slightly improved. This time I don't have to go back for six more months - and if I'm good I will go in on time and not put it off like I did this last appointment that I was supposed to have scheduled for last month. I was just DONE with going to the doctor. I have to go for my foot and if Gavin needs something I'll take him but unless I turn purple or something looks like it's going to fall off I refuse to go to the doctor. Sheesh. I think I've fit a lifetime of medical visits in the first quarter of this year alone.
Are you curious about my freedom? We figured a way that I can leave the house with Gavin. Safely leave the house with Gavin. Now that I can walk down the stairs using both feet I realized I can put Gavin in the Ergo carrier and walk down the stairs, across the walk, down the second set of stairs, across the sidewalk and grassy strip to the car.
Ryan took me to the doctor's office today for my ultrasound and I was able to drive home - by MYSELF!!! To celebrate my freedom I went through the Starbucks drive-through for a single Americano and called my mom. When she asked me what I was doing I said, "I'm DRIVING!!!".
The real test for my freedom came when I arrived home.
Able to get out of the car - check
Able to get crutches out of the car - check
Able to put baby in the Ergo carrier - check
Able to carry grocery bag in left hand while holding left crutch - check
Able to carry coffee in right hand - No. I didn't even try. I left it on top of the car for a second trip.
Able to walk, crutch, carry baby and grocery bag simultaneously - check.
I did manage to carry Gavin and bag but it was a slow process.
S-L-O-W
Really, really slow.
After each step I stopped, centered myself and continued with the next step. Just as I reached the first set of stairs a woman scurried up to me and offered her assistance. I gladly handed her the bag of groceries as I made my way up the stairs; slowly made my way up the stairs. Even in my super slow-mo trek I still managed to lose my right crutch in a tangle of poppies that were trying to take over the staircase. The crutch fell and I stopped, the woman gasped. She picked up the crutch, I thanked her, and we continued up the stairs.
I thanked the woman profusely for her kindness and told her I would go put that baby in the house and come back out for the groceries if she would just leave them on the stairs - my plan the whole time. The woman was so nice - as I made my way in the house I looked up to see the woman get in her car and drive off. This woman pulled over just to help me. Isn't that so sweet!?
Once inside I put Gavin on the floor to play with some toys then I brought in the groceries and made a third trip for my coffee. Carrying coffee while using crutches is not the brightest thing in the world to do. At least the coffee had plenty of time to cool off while I made my way to and from the house so very slowly.
Before my bible study this evening I went to Westwood Village to buy some everyday drinking glasses as I noticed yesterday we are down to 6 tall glasses and 4 short glasses. Ryan loaded my scooter in the car so I could get around easily while shopping. Of course, getting the scooter out of the car in a tight parking space was challenging.
People don't know what to think when they see me scooting along a sidewalk or flying down an aisle in a store. As much as I am coming to loathe the scooter it is FUN to use at Costco or at the grocery store late at night when there aren't many customers. You can fly down the aisles. I feel like I'm 13 not 31 when I am zipping up and down the aisles. It is hard to maneuver on the sidewalks though, or on any sort of incline and going across bumps in the sidewalk hurt my knees. But it is worth it to get out of the house.
The Tonight Show is on right now; I look up every now and then and listen in while he interviews Jack Black and Clay Aiken. Here is a scary thought: I thought, "Hmm, Jack Black is kind of cute."
Ah! Jack Black!
Then I saw Clay Aiken and I thought, "Hmm, Clay Aiken is kind of scary looking."
eek - Conan O'Brien is up... he is just plain old funny looking. He's super rich, can he not afford to hire someone to style his hair more attractively? He and Donald Trump can start the Bad Hair Club for Filthy Rich Men.
That's all I have. I can come and go from the house as I so desire but won't because gas is freakin' expensive! It's over $4 a gallon! I am thinking if I want to leave the house I'm just going to take the bus. It will be a good reason to go to Pike Place and do some grocery shopping or get to learn the international district a bit. I need to find some good pho (pronounced "fuh") closer than Than Brothers in West Seattle or Pho Cyclo in SODO (south downtown).
Does anyone out there have a good pho recipe? Pho wha?
Pho is a delicious Vietnamese noodle soup. You can have it with chicken or beef or tofu and you add cilantro, basil, bean sprouts, hoisen sauce, hot sauce, soy sauce, fish sauce and/or jalapenos. It is so yummy. At Than Brother's they give you enough to feed an army with their small and it's less than $5 and they give you a cream puff with your meal.
I'm so hungry for pho. I had it last weekend when Ryan's dad was out helping in the basement since there aren't any pho joints in Wenatchee. I can't say I'm surprised Wenatchee is short on Vietnamese restaurants.
It's time for me to call it a night but not before I scavenge in the kitchen for something that will satiate my craving for pho.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Goodbye, Celeste
I've been in a special relationship for about two years now that is coming to an end. This relationship is one I never thought I would have; I thought I wasn't 'that kind' of person. Growing up the thought of this kind of relationship struck me as odd and unnecessary; it wasn't until a few years ago that I could see how special a relationship of this nature could be.
The special relationship that I've succumbed to is that of hair stylist/client. It took 29 years but I finally found someone who knows me. She gets me - well, she 'gets' my hair. I suppose it didn't actually take 29 years to find a hair stylist. I was bald then had only a little hair for the first year of my life, then I just didn't care until after high school.
Who is this Hair Whisperer, you ask? Celeste Farrar is her name - at least for a little while longer at least. She is getting married, she may take her fiance's name, I don't know and moving to Montana. I am sad as are many of my girlfriends that I see every week (see previous post) because we all started going to her regularly after seeing what a fabulous job she did with all of our respective crowns of glory.
B.C. (before Celeste) I had no loyalties because no one gave me a reason to be loyal. Hair cuts were just hair cuts. If I wanted my hair styled I would pony up for a more expensive salon but no one ever got me to go back.
Side story: the first time I paid "big bucks" (I think I paid $25 which was a LOT out of my minimum wage job at Blimpie while I was attending college) was 1996. The salon was kitty corner to the Blimpie where I worked evenings and weekends and a couple of doors down from Albertson's at the new (now dilapidated) Fisher's Landing shopping center. It was with great excitement I entered the salon because I knew exactly what I wanted: the Jennifer Aniston (Rachel Green/"Friends") hair style.
That is exactly what I got. I left the salon looking like Jennifer Aniston and I did until I washed my hair the next day and one other time when I took the inordinate amount of time it took to style it the way the hair dresser did. It took me nearly two hours to style it to my liking. That's probably why I only styled it once. Who knew using a curling iron and 'product' was a learned skill?
I heard such great things about Celeste and I saw all the great work that she did with my friends that the first time I saw her I placed a great deal of faith in her talented hands and keen eyes. I gave her a general length I wanted my hair and told her to do whatever she thought would look best with my shape of face. She asked me a few questions then flew into action - but not before washing my hair and giving the best scalp and neck massage. What a great way to start a hair cut.
Now I have to start my search for a great stylist over. There is a salon just around the corner from my house that I'm going to try. I hope they are good because it would be so darn convenient to just walk over and get my hair cut. No driving across town, hoping there isn't a Mariner's game or bad traffic on I-5 or 99, hoping to find close parking, not having to walk past a Macrina Bakery to be tempted to go inside.
Farewell, Celeste, Montana is lucky to have you.
The special relationship that I've succumbed to is that of hair stylist/client. It took 29 years but I finally found someone who knows me. She gets me - well, she 'gets' my hair. I suppose it didn't actually take 29 years to find a hair stylist. I was bald then had only a little hair for the first year of my life, then I just didn't care until after high school.
Who is this Hair Whisperer, you ask? Celeste Farrar is her name - at least for a little while longer at least. She is getting married, she may take her fiance's name, I don't know and moving to Montana. I am sad as are many of my girlfriends that I see every week (see previous post) because we all started going to her regularly after seeing what a fabulous job she did with all of our respective crowns of glory.
B.C. (before Celeste) I had no loyalties because no one gave me a reason to be loyal. Hair cuts were just hair cuts. If I wanted my hair styled I would pony up for a more expensive salon but no one ever got me to go back.
Side story: the first time I paid "big bucks" (I think I paid $25 which was a LOT out of my minimum wage job at Blimpie while I was attending college) was 1996. The salon was kitty corner to the Blimpie where I worked evenings and weekends and a couple of doors down from Albertson's at the new (now dilapidated) Fisher's Landing shopping center. It was with great excitement I entered the salon because I knew exactly what I wanted: the Jennifer Aniston (Rachel Green/"Friends") hair style.
That is exactly what I got. I left the salon looking like Jennifer Aniston and I did until I washed my hair the next day and one other time when I took the inordinate amount of time it took to style it the way the hair dresser did. It took me nearly two hours to style it to my liking. That's probably why I only styled it once. Who knew using a curling iron and 'product' was a learned skill?
I heard such great things about Celeste and I saw all the great work that she did with my friends that the first time I saw her I placed a great deal of faith in her talented hands and keen eyes. I gave her a general length I wanted my hair and told her to do whatever she thought would look best with my shape of face. She asked me a few questions then flew into action - but not before washing my hair and giving the best scalp and neck massage. What a great way to start a hair cut.
Now I have to start my search for a great stylist over. There is a salon just around the corner from my house that I'm going to try. I hope they are good because it would be so darn convenient to just walk over and get my hair cut. No driving across town, hoping there isn't a Mariner's game or bad traffic on I-5 or 99, hoping to find close parking, not having to walk past a Macrina Bakery to be tempted to go inside.
Farewell, Celeste, Montana is lucky to have you.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Women and Men
It will be seven years this November that I've lived in Seattle. For as long as I've lived in Seattle I've been in the same bible study. Originally we all lived in West Seattle but over the years we've spread out, one in West Seattle, one on Beacon Hill, one in Green Lake, one in Ballard and one on the east side. Others have moved considerably farther, Missouri, Northern Ireland and Kenya. As people have moved away or moved on from the group new women come in.
We've been holding steady at 6 ladies for a couple of years now and we don't see any change on the horizon. It's so wonderful to have a mix of married and single women, some with kids, some without.
These ladies have seen me at my highest high (hours after giving birth) and at my lowest low (nothing I'm going to broadcast to the world). They were there for me when I was new to Seattle and didn't know a soul except Ryan.
Sometimes I think we should rename our group since we don't study all that much. Two ladies left the bible study because they wanted to be in a bible study that studied the bible. Those of use who are left are OK when we go weeks without studying and choose instead to socialize. Our weekly gathering is a highlight of my week. I think I would explode if I did not see these women on a regular basis to decompress as the volume of unspoken words inside me would build up to a dangerous level.
We all enjoy just sitting around and talking. And talking and talking some more. The husbands do not begrudge us our time with our girls because if we don't have the girls to talk to we turn our need to talk to the men in our lives. We know our husbands love us but we have been married long enough that we know a husband makes a bad girlfriend.
Ryan's sister and family were in town recently. Our niece, who will be 3 in September, unwinds before going to bed by talking to herself. She hashes out the events of the day and all that she learned. It is really amusing to listen to (over the monitor) but I kind of feel like I'm eavesdropping.
The way she talks about all of the events of her day kind of threw Ryan for a loop; he wondered how long she would do that for. I told him that she is a girl and the only thing that will change is that she will probably stop saying everything out loud. I don't think he believes me that the woman's brain doesn't have an off switch.
I'll never forget a conversation we had on a trip to or from Vancouver several years ago. It was in his old white Honda Civic so it has been at least 3 years. I think we were in a no-mans' land as far as the radio was concerned, that or only country music came in and I was all out of talk so I turned to Ryan and said, "Penny for your thoughts."
Ryan: "Hmph? Uh, nothin'."
Me: "Penny for your thoughts. Whatcha thinkin'?"
Ryan: "Nothin'"
Me: "C'mon. What are you thinking?"
Ryan: "Nothing."
Me: "You can't not be thinking."
Ryan: "Yep, I can."
Me. "It can't be a blank canvas up there!"
Ryan: "Yep. It can."
Me: "No! You can just be and not have a thought?"
Ryan: "What, you can't?"
Me: "No. It's like a ticker tape up there. Non stop."
We caught a brief glimpse in the brain of the opposite sex.
Here is how I view Ryan's brain: Picture a vast room lined with rows of filing cabinets. All of the filing cabinets are arranged by subject and within each subject they are arranged alphabetically. The math, physical science and music sections are packed pretty densely with filing cabinets. Every drawer of every cabinet is shut and only opens when information within is needed.
April's brain:
The room is still vast and there are filing cabinets. That is where the similarities end. Drawers on the cabinets pop open at random times and files are frequently misfiled; the cabinets are not neatly arranged by subject but are scattered about, there may be a science cabinet next to a language cabinet. Next to each cabinet is a scents cabinet. Science (Anatomy and Physiology t be specific) has a cabinet next to it that has all sorts of fun scents like formaldehyde, death and ham preservatives. The ham preservatives is a fun story I should share some time. If you aren't a vegetarian before I tell the story you may be afterwards. I was off ham lunch meat for a long time.
I'm too tired to continue. I think the whole reason I started this post was to relay one funny little story. So I'll tell my funny little story then go to bed on the tiny slice of bed that Gavin has left for me.
Last week I got my girlfriends to take me out of the house for our weekly meeting. Any chance I have to get out of the house I jump at since I'm house bound right now. We went to Cupcake Royale in West Seattle. After finding close street parking we walked/crutched to the store only to find out they were closing in 10 minutes. Lame. Right before we got there Heidi called Heather to tell her that we were not meeting at my house like originally planned but at Cupcake Royale so she called Heather again to tell her we were moving to a new locale.
Next stop: Matador. They have super yummy steak nachos. I was looking forward to some delicious Mexican food. We sit down, eat some chips and order our drinks. One margarita and two waters. The waitress needs to see every one's id since we were in a bar. No problem.
Wait, problem.
I searched my purse section by section. Then I emptied my purse section by section. No id. My friend who ordered the margarita saw my insurance card and said, "This has her birthday and this (holding up my Costco card) has her picture?" It was a nice try. But it didn't work. We got the boot.
It has been a long, long time since I was kicked out of a bar.
As much as it sucked being kicked out it was still kind of flattering. I know I don't look 21 but still...
Heidi called Heather again and we went across the street to another establishment that shall remain nameless because they didn't ask for id when drinks of an adult nature were ordered. I even tried Krissy' Belgian type beer that she was sampling - woo, was it ever sweet. Not my cup of barley. Or malts. Or hops... whatever.
By the way, I found my driver's license. It was in the coat I took with me to the hospital the day I had surgery.
We've been holding steady at 6 ladies for a couple of years now and we don't see any change on the horizon. It's so wonderful to have a mix of married and single women, some with kids, some without.
These ladies have seen me at my highest high (hours after giving birth) and at my lowest low (nothing I'm going to broadcast to the world). They were there for me when I was new to Seattle and didn't know a soul except Ryan.
Sometimes I think we should rename our group since we don't study all that much. Two ladies left the bible study because they wanted to be in a bible study that studied the bible. Those of use who are left are OK when we go weeks without studying and choose instead to socialize. Our weekly gathering is a highlight of my week. I think I would explode if I did not see these women on a regular basis to decompress as the volume of unspoken words inside me would build up to a dangerous level.
We all enjoy just sitting around and talking. And talking and talking some more. The husbands do not begrudge us our time with our girls because if we don't have the girls to talk to we turn our need to talk to the men in our lives. We know our husbands love us but we have been married long enough that we know a husband makes a bad girlfriend.
Ryan's sister and family were in town recently. Our niece, who will be 3 in September, unwinds before going to bed by talking to herself. She hashes out the events of the day and all that she learned. It is really amusing to listen to (over the monitor) but I kind of feel like I'm eavesdropping.
The way she talks about all of the events of her day kind of threw Ryan for a loop; he wondered how long she would do that for. I told him that she is a girl and the only thing that will change is that she will probably stop saying everything out loud. I don't think he believes me that the woman's brain doesn't have an off switch.
I'll never forget a conversation we had on a trip to or from Vancouver several years ago. It was in his old white Honda Civic so it has been at least 3 years. I think we were in a no-mans' land as far as the radio was concerned, that or only country music came in and I was all out of talk so I turned to Ryan and said, "Penny for your thoughts."
Ryan: "Hmph? Uh, nothin'."
Me: "Penny for your thoughts. Whatcha thinkin'?"
Ryan: "Nothin'"
Me: "C'mon. What are you thinking?"
Ryan: "Nothing."
Me: "You can't not be thinking."
Ryan: "Yep, I can."
Me. "It can't be a blank canvas up there!"
Ryan: "Yep. It can."
Me: "No! You can just be and not have a thought?"
Ryan: "What, you can't?"
Me: "No. It's like a ticker tape up there. Non stop."
We caught a brief glimpse in the brain of the opposite sex.
Here is how I view Ryan's brain: Picture a vast room lined with rows of filing cabinets. All of the filing cabinets are arranged by subject and within each subject they are arranged alphabetically. The math, physical science and music sections are packed pretty densely with filing cabinets. Every drawer of every cabinet is shut and only opens when information within is needed.
April's brain:
The room is still vast and there are filing cabinets. That is where the similarities end. Drawers on the cabinets pop open at random times and files are frequently misfiled; the cabinets are not neatly arranged by subject but are scattered about, there may be a science cabinet next to a language cabinet. Next to each cabinet is a scents cabinet. Science (Anatomy and Physiology t be specific) has a cabinet next to it that has all sorts of fun scents like formaldehyde, death and ham preservatives. The ham preservatives is a fun story I should share some time. If you aren't a vegetarian before I tell the story you may be afterwards. I was off ham lunch meat for a long time.
I'm too tired to continue. I think the whole reason I started this post was to relay one funny little story. So I'll tell my funny little story then go to bed on the tiny slice of bed that Gavin has left for me.
Last week I got my girlfriends to take me out of the house for our weekly meeting. Any chance I have to get out of the house I jump at since I'm house bound right now. We went to Cupcake Royale in West Seattle. After finding close street parking we walked/crutched to the store only to find out they were closing in 10 minutes. Lame. Right before we got there Heidi called Heather to tell her that we were not meeting at my house like originally planned but at Cupcake Royale so she called Heather again to tell her we were moving to a new locale.
Next stop: Matador. They have super yummy steak nachos. I was looking forward to some delicious Mexican food. We sit down, eat some chips and order our drinks. One margarita and two waters. The waitress needs to see every one's id since we were in a bar. No problem.
Wait, problem.
I searched my purse section by section. Then I emptied my purse section by section. No id. My friend who ordered the margarita saw my insurance card and said, "This has her birthday and this (holding up my Costco card) has her picture?" It was a nice try. But it didn't work. We got the boot.
It has been a long, long time since I was kicked out of a bar.
As much as it sucked being kicked out it was still kind of flattering. I know I don't look 21 but still...
Heidi called Heather again and we went across the street to another establishment that shall remain nameless because they didn't ask for id when drinks of an adult nature were ordered. I even tried Krissy' Belgian type beer that she was sampling - woo, was it ever sweet. Not my cup of barley. Or malts. Or hops... whatever.
By the way, I found my driver's license. It was in the coat I took with me to the hospital the day I had surgery.
Pinchable Cheeks
Yeah, I know. CUTE!!! Look at those cheeks! This picture induces the baby munchies. Baby munchies are not about a baby that has the munchies, because that is just wrong - how could you even think that? C'mon. No, baby munchies are what happen when you say, "Ah! You are too cute," then proceed to kiss the daylights out of the baby.
This afternoon I hosted my mommy group so I could attend since I'm still not walking or driving. At each meeting we give our 'highs and lows' for the week. It is not something I prepare in advance and give much thought to so when it is my turn to share I just spit out the first things that pop in my mind. After group I put Gavin down for a nap and was lying there nursing him and thinking to myself, "I didn't tell them the best news. I'll tell them next week that Gavin quit biting me while nursing. This is big news, maybe I could mention it if I have occasion to e-mail the ladies this - CHOMP
No kidding. I was thinking about how Gavin hasn't bitten me in a while when he bit hard. Yowza!
The biting is painful. He was biting me every time he ate. Nursing was become less relaxing as I would tense up a few minutes into a feeding session trying to predict when was a good time to close the bar before Gavin had a chance to do any nibbling. But as painful as the biting is he does something else that is as annoying as the biting is painful.
He snaps my bra. When he lies on his back he will lift his arm up over his head then bring it down sharply and slap his belly. He does it repeatedly and when he's nursing he grabs my bra instead of slapping his belly. He grabs the bra and pulls until it snaps. Then he repeats. And repeats. And repeats.
Can you believe he is 7 months old already? Time flies! There is another baby boy in my group who is only 10 days older than Gavin that has started crawling. That little dude flies, baby lightening! It makes me a little nervous knowing what is in store for us right around the corner.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Installed
My father-in-law visited this weekend. He and Ryan spent the whole weekend installing doors in the basement and painting trim.
We've had the doors for quite some time but since they were not pre-hung it made installation a very daunting task. Since I am of no help in the Department of Handy - for many reasons (I measure twice, forget twice, measure two more times and still cut wrong; I have Gavin to watch after; and I whine...) Karl came to the rescue.
It is amazing what a door does to a space. In place of the gaping hole there is a door in the guest bedroom, the bathroom, the office and at the middle landing of the stairs on the way to the basement. Now, one can use the bathroom. The bathroom was operational before but now those who like a little privacy can use it without fear of someone in the alley walking by and peeking in. Our guests can get dressed in their room without fear of someone barging in unannounced (I did that to my other father-in-law but he was just taking his inhaler, whew)! Ryan can work in the office and not have to hear me banging around in the kitchen.
Yea for doors! Yea for father's-in-law who drive 3 hours to do hard labor all weekend only to go home and do more hard labor (he's building a house right now)!
We've had the doors for quite some time but since they were not pre-hung it made installation a very daunting task. Since I am of no help in the Department of Handy - for many reasons (I measure twice, forget twice, measure two more times and still cut wrong; I have Gavin to watch after; and I whine...) Karl came to the rescue.
It is amazing what a door does to a space. In place of the gaping hole there is a door in the guest bedroom, the bathroom, the office and at the middle landing of the stairs on the way to the basement. Now, one can use the bathroom. The bathroom was operational before but now those who like a little privacy can use it without fear of someone in the alley walking by and peeking in. Our guests can get dressed in their room without fear of someone barging in unannounced (I did that to my other father-in-law but he was just taking his inhaler, whew)! Ryan can work in the office and not have to hear me banging around in the kitchen.
Yea for doors! Yea for father's-in-law who drive 3 hours to do hard labor all weekend only to go home and do more hard labor (he's building a house right now)!
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Forward Progress!
Gavin and I were sitting on the floor yesterday playing with blocks. Well, I was sitting and watching Gavin play with his blocks. He really only plays with one, the blue round one. If one of the blue round ones isn't available he will not refuse the orange star or purple plus or green square - they all go readily in the mouth.
Little G finally toppled over or I put him on his tummy, I don't remember which. Either way, it led to crying. Profuse crying. Did you know it is very traumatic to be placed on your tummy? Gavin wails when he has his tummy time. He lifts his head and torso off the ground with his unbelievably cute chubby arms and looks at me, all the while screaming, as if to say, "But I thought you loved me? Why are you doing this to me?" His head looks HUGE when he lifts it up while on his belly. It is, of course, SO CUTE!
So, there he is, lying on the floor and crying, big fat tears streaming down his nose and plopping on the rug. There I am, mean mom that I am, trying to entice him with toys just out of his reach. Thus far he is able to pivot - he stays in place but goes in a circle and scoot backwards a bit. Oh, and he does the crawl but he doesn't crawl. His legs move like he wants to crawl but he doesn't put his feet underneath his body so he doesn't go anywhere.
Until... yesterday.
My attention had been diverted away at something else and when I looked back I saw he had his right leg bent and under his body. He pushed and went forward!
Forward progress!
Woo-hoo!
Unfortunately along with forward progress came a face plant.
That lead to more crying. I imagine he was very confused as to why I was mixing the sympathetic, "Oh, poor baby," with the excited, "Way to go Gavin!" and "Yea!"
I had my boot off to let my poor foot breath since it was 86 degrees in the house and the boot made a handy tool with which to let Ryan know to come upstairs. I pounded the boot on the floor several times until Ryan came upstairs so I could share the good news of the almost crawl.
We put little G back on his tummy but there was no more crawling... hmmm... it appears he is waking up. Not bad since it has been 4 hours since he went down the evening.
Yep. Four hours is a good thing these days. He has been waking up every 2-3 hours at night. The only thing that puts him back to sleep is a snack ala mom.
Dang it!!! His eyes are open (we have the video monitor - I'm not psychic)... *gasp*
HE FELL BACK ASLEEP!!!
I am really confused. There must be some interference because I hear some music coming across the monitor that kind of sounds like Tool or Nine Inch Nails. As much as I like me some Tool and NIN, I don't listen to KISW (local hard core rock station) and I don't have my alarm radio set to anything but static (white noise to put the G to sleep). Yep, it's KISW - the music is over. I should go turn it off but I'm afraid of disturbing Gavin.
It's Ryan's alarm clock. Mystery solved. Gavin is awake again. Hard core rock doesn't seem to soothe the baby. Go figure.
Mystery part II: why is Ryan's alarm clock set to KISW? He hates music that sounds angry. (His words, not mine).
Mystery part II solved: I seem to recall monkeying with the radio on his alarm. I thought I put it back on his station, though.
Oops.
Little G finally toppled over or I put him on his tummy, I don't remember which. Either way, it led to crying. Profuse crying. Did you know it is very traumatic to be placed on your tummy? Gavin wails when he has his tummy time. He lifts his head and torso off the ground with his unbelievably cute chubby arms and looks at me, all the while screaming, as if to say, "But I thought you loved me? Why are you doing this to me?" His head looks HUGE when he lifts it up while on his belly. It is, of course, SO CUTE!
So, there he is, lying on the floor and crying, big fat tears streaming down his nose and plopping on the rug. There I am, mean mom that I am, trying to entice him with toys just out of his reach. Thus far he is able to pivot - he stays in place but goes in a circle and scoot backwards a bit. Oh, and he does the crawl but he doesn't crawl. His legs move like he wants to crawl but he doesn't put his feet underneath his body so he doesn't go anywhere.
Until... yesterday.
My attention had been diverted away at something else and when I looked back I saw he had his right leg bent and under his body. He pushed and went forward!
Forward progress!
Woo-hoo!
Unfortunately along with forward progress came a face plant.
That lead to more crying. I imagine he was very confused as to why I was mixing the sympathetic, "Oh, poor baby," with the excited, "Way to go Gavin!" and "Yea!"
I had my boot off to let my poor foot breath since it was 86 degrees in the house and the boot made a handy tool with which to let Ryan know to come upstairs. I pounded the boot on the floor several times until Ryan came upstairs so I could share the good news of the almost crawl.
We put little G back on his tummy but there was no more crawling... hmmm... it appears he is waking up. Not bad since it has been 4 hours since he went down the evening.
Yep. Four hours is a good thing these days. He has been waking up every 2-3 hours at night. The only thing that puts him back to sleep is a snack ala mom.
Dang it!!! His eyes are open (we have the video monitor - I'm not psychic)... *gasp*
HE FELL BACK ASLEEP!!!
I am really confused. There must be some interference because I hear some music coming across the monitor that kind of sounds like Tool or Nine Inch Nails. As much as I like me some Tool and NIN, I don't listen to KISW (local hard core rock station) and I don't have my alarm radio set to anything but static (white noise to put the G to sleep). Yep, it's KISW - the music is over. I should go turn it off but I'm afraid of disturbing Gavin.
It's Ryan's alarm clock. Mystery solved. Gavin is awake again. Hard core rock doesn't seem to soothe the baby. Go figure.
Mystery part II: why is Ryan's alarm clock set to KISW? He hates music that sounds angry. (His words, not mine).
Mystery part II solved: I seem to recall monkeying with the radio on his alarm. I thought I put it back on his station, though.
Oops.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Dude!
Gavin's nap is going to be over any minute now so I gotta make this quick.
I'm back home! Yippee! I miss the easy access and great care my MIL provided but it's so nice to be at home with Ryan and my stuff that I can't do anything with because I can't carry it around.
I left the power supply for the laptop at my MIL's house and therefore have to wait for Gavin to go to sleep before I can hobble down to the basement to get on the computer and check my e-mail. I'm getting pretty good at using the crutches.
Today I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, washed some pots and pans, cleaned the counter tops, pulled the laundry hampers from my bedroom to the living room and sorted the clothes for Ryan and... ah, I almost forgot the most challenging task of all: lunch. I made lunch. And by 'made' I mean heated up a sandwich in the microwave that I assembled at Dream Dinners before surgery that Ryan heated in the oven last night. The challenging part was getting me, my one good leg, two crutches, plate with sandwich and a can of soda teetering on top over to the couch. It was not easy. It was not fast. It was a little painful.
When I'm ready to walk again my left leg is going to be a rock while my right leg is going to be an atrophied, gelatinous leg shaped blob. I swear my right calf has already lost all of its muscle tone.
There is so much more house work to be done but my toes in my new and improved foot started to go numb so I figured that was as good a time as any to watch the boob tube.
I almost forgot the whole reason I started this "Dude!" post!
So, here I am checking my e-mail, minding my own business - I'm at home, not a lot of other people's business I can mind, right? Above me is a small daylight basement window in the office. I see a shadow pass over the minimal light that is coming in through the small window on this super gray day in Seattle in May. What do I see when I look up? The man who was putting the last installement of topsoil in our yard after the oil tank removal/contamination/clean-up/restoration that started back in AUGUST.
Hmm, I thought to myself. What is he doing in that corner of the yard by the old window frames that we've yet to take to the dump? In the corner where the tall fence and gate meet? The corner where no one can see him from ground level as he is hidden by the house, a gate and a fence? Ah, I see. He is peeing!
Dude!
We have toilets in our house! Two. Granted, only one of the toilets comes with the great amenity known as a door but he obviously doesn't care about that. (The doors in the basement are coming at the end of the month when my father-in-law comes out to help Ryan install them - and the trim. Woo-hoo!!! We are almost done)!
I really, really, really wanted to tap on the window. Really. But I didn't. Then I just hoped he wouldn't look down when he turned around and left. At least he peed facing away from the window.
My knee scooter is going to be delivered at 3:00 today, in 40 minutes. That means I should head up stairs so I can use the marvel known as a toilet in which I can empty my bladder before my new wheels arrive.
I'm back home! Yippee! I miss the easy access and great care my MIL provided but it's so nice to be at home with Ryan and my stuff that I can't do anything with because I can't carry it around.
I left the power supply for the laptop at my MIL's house and therefore have to wait for Gavin to go to sleep before I can hobble down to the basement to get on the computer and check my e-mail. I'm getting pretty good at using the crutches.
Today I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, washed some pots and pans, cleaned the counter tops, pulled the laundry hampers from my bedroom to the living room and sorted the clothes for Ryan and... ah, I almost forgot the most challenging task of all: lunch. I made lunch. And by 'made' I mean heated up a sandwich in the microwave that I assembled at Dream Dinners before surgery that Ryan heated in the oven last night. The challenging part was getting me, my one good leg, two crutches, plate with sandwich and a can of soda teetering on top over to the couch. It was not easy. It was not fast. It was a little painful.
When I'm ready to walk again my left leg is going to be a rock while my right leg is going to be an atrophied, gelatinous leg shaped blob. I swear my right calf has already lost all of its muscle tone.
There is so much more house work to be done but my toes in my new and improved foot started to go numb so I figured that was as good a time as any to watch the boob tube.
I almost forgot the whole reason I started this "Dude!" post!
So, here I am checking my e-mail, minding my own business - I'm at home, not a lot of other people's business I can mind, right? Above me is a small daylight basement window in the office. I see a shadow pass over the minimal light that is coming in through the small window on this super gray day in Seattle in May. What do I see when I look up? The man who was putting the last installement of topsoil in our yard after the oil tank removal/contamination/clean-up/restoration that started back in AUGUST.
Hmm, I thought to myself. What is he doing in that corner of the yard by the old window frames that we've yet to take to the dump? In the corner where the tall fence and gate meet? The corner where no one can see him from ground level as he is hidden by the house, a gate and a fence? Ah, I see. He is peeing!
Dude!
We have toilets in our house! Two. Granted, only one of the toilets comes with the great amenity known as a door but he obviously doesn't care about that. (The doors in the basement are coming at the end of the month when my father-in-law comes out to help Ryan install them - and the trim. Woo-hoo!!! We are almost done)!
I really, really, really wanted to tap on the window. Really. But I didn't. Then I just hoped he wouldn't look down when he turned around and left. At least he peed facing away from the window.
My knee scooter is going to be delivered at 3:00 today, in 40 minutes. That means I should head up stairs so I can use the marvel known as a toilet in which I can empty my bladder before my new wheels arrive.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Blogger, Interrupted
My last post was not saved properly so half of my post was lost. Nerdy.
I'm going to do my best to recreate the rest of my news flashes. Where did I leave off? Ah, yes. The shower.
So, there I was sort of standing in the shower, listing severely to the left when I saw my feet side by side for the first time since surgery. The left one was just hanging out, all white and bulging with it's smaller bunion. Then there was the right foot, still black and blue and tinted from the iodine prep, but it was much, much smaller than the left foot. It is a completely different shape. It is so weird to have the shape of your foot change; I knew it was going to change shape but it is something else to see an appendage morph like that.
I'm guessing that all of the shoes I gave away 2 months ago because they were too small would now fit . It is just as well since they were all high heels - something I could wear on a more frequent basis if my left foot wasn't developing a bunion. Stupid feet. They ruin fashion. Not that I'm a fashionista but it is nice to wear sexy heels every now and again.
It was at Ryan's office Christmas party that I last wore heels. I felt like a decrepit old woman as each step hurt more than the previous one. As much as I like the looks of them I won't buy more heels until after I have the left bunion taken care many, many, many years from now. This whole not walking thing sucks. Really. Although wheeling around in a wheelchair is fun - but only because I know it's temporary.
If you have a weak stomach regarding bugs you may not want to read this last bit.
Did you know it is tick season in the northwest? I do. Kea, my dear doggy, got one last weekend. Ryan took her to the vet on Monday to make sure there wasn't more we needed to do for her while we were home for my doctors appointment. When we got back to my MIL's house we saw a bulge on her head - another tick. Then the neighbor lady took Kea and her dog for a walk. More ticks glommed on under her collar.
My MIL held Kea on her dog bed while I pulled the blood suckers out with tweezers. It was so gross. The smallest ones that hadn't attached yet were like the tiniest spider you could imagine but the ones that we missed and were sucking away for a couple of days were ginormous - think the size of a pencil top eraser.
Ticks are nearly impossible to kill but I was still afraid of splatter if I squeezed too hard with the tweezers on the bigger ticks so I covered the bug with a tissue and just peeked while pulling. To kill them my sister-in-law who lives in the sticks and deals with ticks on her dogs said you have to nuke 'em in the microwave. Yep. My MIL put the big daddy tick in the microwave and after about 30 seconds or so we heard a loud *POP*. We simultaneously said, "Eeew!" then did the bug dance; you know, like someone just flicked a spider off you and you freak out with creepy crawly skin.
I'm going to do my best to recreate the rest of my news flashes. Where did I leave off? Ah, yes. The shower.
So, there I was sort of standing in the shower, listing severely to the left when I saw my feet side by side for the first time since surgery. The left one was just hanging out, all white and bulging with it's smaller bunion. Then there was the right foot, still black and blue and tinted from the iodine prep, but it was much, much smaller than the left foot. It is a completely different shape. It is so weird to have the shape of your foot change; I knew it was going to change shape but it is something else to see an appendage morph like that.
I'm guessing that all of the shoes I gave away 2 months ago because they were too small would now fit . It is just as well since they were all high heels - something I could wear on a more frequent basis if my left foot wasn't developing a bunion. Stupid feet. They ruin fashion. Not that I'm a fashionista but it is nice to wear sexy heels every now and again.
It was at Ryan's office Christmas party that I last wore heels. I felt like a decrepit old woman as each step hurt more than the previous one. As much as I like the looks of them I won't buy more heels until after I have the left bunion taken care many, many, many years from now. This whole not walking thing sucks. Really. Although wheeling around in a wheelchair is fun - but only because I know it's temporary.
If you have a weak stomach regarding bugs you may not want to read this last bit.
Did you know it is tick season in the northwest? I do. Kea, my dear doggy, got one last weekend. Ryan took her to the vet on Monday to make sure there wasn't more we needed to do for her while we were home for my doctors appointment. When we got back to my MIL's house we saw a bulge on her head - another tick. Then the neighbor lady took Kea and her dog for a walk. More ticks glommed on under her collar.
My MIL held Kea on her dog bed while I pulled the blood suckers out with tweezers. It was so gross. The smallest ones that hadn't attached yet were like the tiniest spider you could imagine but the ones that we missed and were sucking away for a couple of days were ginormous - think the size of a pencil top eraser.
Ticks are nearly impossible to kill but I was still afraid of splatter if I squeezed too hard with the tweezers on the bigger ticks so I covered the bug with a tissue and just peeked while pulling. To kill them my sister-in-law who lives in the sticks and deals with ticks on her dogs said you have to nuke 'em in the microwave. Yep. My MIL put the big daddy tick in the microwave and after about 30 seconds or so we heard a loud *POP*. We simultaneously said, "Eeew!" then did the bug dance; you know, like someone just flicked a spider off you and you freak out with creepy crawly skin.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
News Flash
Ryan gave notice at his job last week; his last day of work will be next Friday. After that he is striking out on his own so if you know of anyone who needs a highly skilled senior transportation engineer with a bunch of letters behind his name and title then lemme know.
He is really excited about this next chapter in his career and I'm excited for him. He had lots of experience managing projects in his soon to be former office but he did not forsee his future with the company taking him to the places that he wants to go (mainly up).
Until he procures his own business he is going to do contract work for a friend in the field who is swamped with work so we aren't going to go hungry anytime soon.
That is the big news in the Jahns household.
Now for the minor news portion of this blog...
I'm going back home this weekend. I've been staying at with my in-laws who have been taking great care of me. I just miss Ryan. I don't want to just see him on the weekends. The plan is for me to rent a knee scooter so I can get around the house. If I need to carry Gavin I will put him in the ergo carrier that I'm going to get this weekend (my mother's day gift).
By the way, if you know of any soon-to-be mom's out there who are looking at baby carriers and they are considering the Baby Bjorn - tell them to skip it and get the Ergo instead. Everyone I've talked to says the Baby Bjorn hurts their back and I've been told it is not very comfortable for the baby, either.
The podiatrist told me I can put 10-20 pounds of pressure on my right foot right now - just enough to keep your balance when standing. I can do that for the next two weeks then I can increase the weight to 10 pounds a day and start to move my ankle a whopping 20 degrees up and down. Ooh, I'm going to wear myself out with all of that exercise.
I'm looking forward to going to the gym with Ryan when I get home. I can still do crunches and I can start lifting weights. The good doc even said I can use the lifecycle if I use no resistance and keep my boot on.
The really exciting news, almost as exciting as Ryan quitting his job is that I can now get my foot wet in the shower/tub! Woo-hoo! Who knew having a clean right foot could feel so good!
He is really excited about this next chapter in his career and I'm excited for him. He had lots of experience managing projects in his soon to be former office but he did not forsee his future with the company taking him to the places that he wants to go (mainly up).
Until he procures his own business he is going to do contract work for a friend in the field who is swamped with work so we aren't going to go hungry anytime soon.
That is the big news in the Jahns household.
Now for the minor news portion of this blog...
I'm going back home this weekend. I've been staying at with my in-laws who have been taking great care of me. I just miss Ryan. I don't want to just see him on the weekends. The plan is for me to rent a knee scooter so I can get around the house. If I need to carry Gavin I will put him in the ergo carrier that I'm going to get this weekend (my mother's day gift).
By the way, if you know of any soon-to-be mom's out there who are looking at baby carriers and they are considering the Baby Bjorn - tell them to skip it and get the Ergo instead. Everyone I've talked to says the Baby Bjorn hurts their back and I've been told it is not very comfortable for the baby, either.
The podiatrist told me I can put 10-20 pounds of pressure on my right foot right now - just enough to keep your balance when standing. I can do that for the next two weeks then I can increase the weight to 10 pounds a day and start to move my ankle a whopping 20 degrees up and down. Ooh, I'm going to wear myself out with all of that exercise.
I'm looking forward to going to the gym with Ryan when I get home. I can still do crunches and I can start lifting weights. The good doc even said I can use the lifecycle if I use no resistance and keep my boot on.
The really exciting news, almost as exciting as Ryan quitting his job is that I can now get my foot wet in the shower/tub! Woo-hoo! Who knew having a clean right foot could feel so good!
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Pretty Please
Can you help me? Help me, please. Please help me.
Don't worry, I don't need help of an urgent nature. I just need some insight into a matter of being rude or not as polite as one could be.
The question is regarding the use of the word "please". More specifically using the word please in a close relationship, say between a husband and a wife. Now, this husband and wife scenario is completely fictional.
When one is in a situation to need near constant help is it rude to make a request without using please? Say, to ask, "Can you bring me a glass of water? Thanks," instead of, "Can you please bring me a glass of water? Thanks."
If it was brought to the attention of the one making all of the requests that they never used please when making a request and then they started to use please sporadically is that OK? If the issue is that please is "never" used then is it acceptable to give the stink eye when please is used some of the time but not every time?
Also, let's not get into the poor grammar of the question being asked; yes, I'm being a bit of a hypocrite about my own poor grammar when I got all huffy about the who-whom sign at Barnes and Noble, but I digress as that is not the issue at hand.
Please leave a comment - all of you readers who read and are afraid to comment, now is your chance to jump in! A simple answer of, "it is acceptable/not acceptable to use please" is fine but feel free to expand on your thoughts.
Thanks. My marriage, er, I mean, some random person's marriage thanks you.
Don't worry, I don't need help of an urgent nature. I just need some insight into a matter of being rude or not as polite as one could be.
The question is regarding the use of the word "please". More specifically using the word please in a close relationship, say between a husband and a wife. Now, this husband and wife scenario is completely fictional.
When one is in a situation to need near constant help is it rude to make a request without using please? Say, to ask, "Can you bring me a glass of water? Thanks," instead of, "Can you please bring me a glass of water? Thanks."
If it was brought to the attention of the one making all of the requests that they never used please when making a request and then they started to use please sporadically is that OK? If the issue is that please is "never" used then is it acceptable to give the stink eye when please is used some of the time but not every time?
Also, let's not get into the poor grammar of the question being asked; yes, I'm being a bit of a hypocrite about my own poor grammar when I got all huffy about the who-whom sign at Barnes and Noble, but I digress as that is not the issue at hand.
Please leave a comment - all of you readers who read and are afraid to comment, now is your chance to jump in! A simple answer of, "it is acceptable/not acceptable to use please" is fine but feel free to expand on your thoughts.
Thanks. My marriage, er, I mean, some random person's marriage thanks you.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
When words are not enough
After having given birth, nursing the baby I gave birth to with the worst case of mastitis EVER, having a lidocaine injection in the sole of my foot I thought I had toughened up; my doctor did say I was one tough cookie, after all.
Boy, was I wrong. I have recently experienced a pain that was in a different league of pain than the list I gave above. (Disclaimer: I had an epidural so I didn't get, no, I didn't have to have the complete birth pain experience).
My brain couldn't comprehend the pain it was so intense. It was like a tidal wave of fire washing over my foot. The fiery sensation was only part of the agony; to complete the torture it felt like my foot was being crushed by an anvil.
To make matters worse I blew through my narcotics. Seeing I was getting low I pulled out the drugs I was sent home from the hospital with. I called the podiatrist to get more drugs. Stingy, stingy man. The first time he gave me 60 pills, the second time he gave me 20.
Did he not fully understand how miserable I was sitting on the couch, moaning and rocking? Could I really become an addict if the drugs simply made me less miserable?
With the pain only becoming worse and my drug supply running low I was getting desperate. I figured it was time to call the doctor again since I was contemplating chopping my foot off.
After several phone calls I finally got to speak to the doctor in the afternoon. After he asked me what I felt and I told him, "It feels like I woke up during surgery and I could feel you cutting me," he asked, "Hmm, why do you think you are experiencing this pain?"
My response: "Well, I'm gonna say it's because there was a scalpel in there last week."
He laughed.
No. no. no.
At least he understood he was dealing with a smart ass. But, ask a lame question, expect a lame answer.
He determined the pain was being caused by an irritated nerve. My heart sank. From what I recall, nerve pain is just something you have to deal with. He confirmed my fear. He told me to try loosening my boot and taking ibuprofen four times a day to take care of swelling. If by Friday it didn't get better to call him back and he might try one other pill.
So, if I could endure two more days of complete agony then he would give me a pill.
Grr.
Turns out he was right. I loosened the boot and what do you know? The pain went away! Now I'm left with normal post surgical pain. The post surgical normal stuff is NOTHING compared to the previous hell that was living in my lower limb.
So I'm hanging out at my mother-in-law's house for the next couple of weeks. My mom came up and stayed for 3 days. She made dinners and washed laundry and plain old took care of me, her baby. Ryan welcomed the help. He was working over time taking care of me, Gavin, the animals and the house.
My MIL won't let me lift a finger. It's kind of nice. I've only changed a handful of diapers. My mom tried to keep me planted but it's easier to disobey your own mother than someone else. Sorry, mom. I was a naughty girl when you were in town.
I even made my mom venture out into the city to get a prescription from my doctor and to the pharmacy to get me my fix.
Time to go wash my wounds. Maybe I'll gross my sister-in-law out. Bonus.
Boy, was I wrong. I have recently experienced a pain that was in a different league of pain than the list I gave above. (Disclaimer: I had an epidural so I didn't get, no, I didn't have to have the complete birth pain experience).
My brain couldn't comprehend the pain it was so intense. It was like a tidal wave of fire washing over my foot. The fiery sensation was only part of the agony; to complete the torture it felt like my foot was being crushed by an anvil.
To make matters worse I blew through my narcotics. Seeing I was getting low I pulled out the drugs I was sent home from the hospital with. I called the podiatrist to get more drugs. Stingy, stingy man. The first time he gave me 60 pills, the second time he gave me 20.
Did he not fully understand how miserable I was sitting on the couch, moaning and rocking? Could I really become an addict if the drugs simply made me less miserable?
With the pain only becoming worse and my drug supply running low I was getting desperate. I figured it was time to call the doctor again since I was contemplating chopping my foot off.
After several phone calls I finally got to speak to the doctor in the afternoon. After he asked me what I felt and I told him, "It feels like I woke up during surgery and I could feel you cutting me," he asked, "Hmm, why do you think you are experiencing this pain?"
My response: "Well, I'm gonna say it's because there was a scalpel in there last week."
He laughed.
No. no. no.
At least he understood he was dealing with a smart ass. But, ask a lame question, expect a lame answer.
He determined the pain was being caused by an irritated nerve. My heart sank. From what I recall, nerve pain is just something you have to deal with. He confirmed my fear. He told me to try loosening my boot and taking ibuprofen four times a day to take care of swelling. If by Friday it didn't get better to call him back and he might try one other pill.
So, if I could endure two more days of complete agony then he would give me a pill.
Grr.
Turns out he was right. I loosened the boot and what do you know? The pain went away! Now I'm left with normal post surgical pain. The post surgical normal stuff is NOTHING compared to the previous hell that was living in my lower limb.
So I'm hanging out at my mother-in-law's house for the next couple of weeks. My mom came up and stayed for 3 days. She made dinners and washed laundry and plain old took care of me, her baby. Ryan welcomed the help. He was working over time taking care of me, Gavin, the animals and the house.
My MIL won't let me lift a finger. It's kind of nice. I've only changed a handful of diapers. My mom tried to keep me planted but it's easier to disobey your own mother than someone else. Sorry, mom. I was a naughty girl when you were in town.
I even made my mom venture out into the city to get a prescription from my doctor and to the pharmacy to get me my fix.
Time to go wash my wounds. Maybe I'll gross my sister-in-law out. Bonus.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Bunion v. Gunshot
The podiatrist took the cast off my foot today! Right after which he put a stretchy 'brace' around the arch of my foot, a splint on my big toe and a connector thing that went on either side of the foot and stretched behind the ankle. Over that went a flimsy sock like thing and over that went a ginormous boot that stops shy of my knee.
Here's the scoop according to the good doc: stitches look great (to me they looked like a dried bloody mess), side of foot from tendon repair is kind of numb (I told him that, he didn't just magically know when he touched it - unless he's the Foot Whisperer) which may or may not be permanent. If it is permanent it's no big deal since I would only realize it's numb I touch it. The reason it is numb is because the tendon repair job was a bigger job than they thought it was going to be. He said it was torn and stenosed. If I remember correctly stenosis is a hardening - you mostly hear it when people talk about aortic stenosis.
I still have to be off my feet for several more weeks. 3 weeks and 1 and a half days to be exact.
After the podiatry appointment I asked my mom to take me to the PCC since we were in West Seattle. There I loaded up on baby food since it is going to be a while since I can go to grocery shopping. Sure, I could have Ryan buy the food but I wanted to make sure it was organic and had a single ingredient only and wanted only vegetables, no fruit.
It was while at the PCC I encountered the first perk of the crutches. Instead of waiting in either of the two longish lines a cashier opened up his register and helped me. He opened up just long enough to help me then closed up again.
Since I wasn't in any big hurry to rush home to continue my confinement I took Mom on a driving tour of my 'new' neighborhood. Mom drove and I narrated what little I knew about the area.
The last stop on the tour O South Seattle was Galaxie Espresso where their coffee is out of this world. Yes, you may gag on my pun as it was fully intentional. Mom really enjoyed her Americano and I enjoyed my orange juice. Don't ask me why I got orange juice when a hand crafted espresso drink is going to be the ultimate treat these next couple of weeks. Lame. So, we drank our respective beverages and each at a very naughty chocolate croissant in just the right amount of time for as soon as we were done Gavin chimed in that he was sorry he refused his morning nap and could he please take the first of his afternoon naps now?
As I stood up my eyes fell on a shiny cane being held by a man at the counter. I followed the cane up and saw it belonged to a young man, and by young I mean in his 30's - funny how the definition of young changes as one ages. The young man saw my crutches and commented on how much more he liked my boot than the one he had. I told him it was brand new and to give it a few days. He asked what happened to my leg so I told him what I had done and "bunions: not just for old ladies, anymore". I asked him what happened to his leg.
He said he was shot. It took a second to register. At first I thought he was joking so I said, "Well, at least that's a cooler story than a bunion." To which he replied, "No, it's not."
I felt like a jerk but he followed it up with, "It would be if it was a gun fight and I had a gun and was shooting back."
We wished each other well and Mom and I left the store. Part of me wanted to know the story of the shooting but I could imagine where that story could go. It had the potential to be so much weirder than the Subway man's story about abandoning his children.
Here's the scoop according to the good doc: stitches look great (to me they looked like a dried bloody mess), side of foot from tendon repair is kind of numb (I told him that, he didn't just magically know when he touched it - unless he's the Foot Whisperer) which may or may not be permanent. If it is permanent it's no big deal since I would only realize it's numb I touch it. The reason it is numb is because the tendon repair job was a bigger job than they thought it was going to be. He said it was torn and stenosed. If I remember correctly stenosis is a hardening - you mostly hear it when people talk about aortic stenosis.
I still have to be off my feet for several more weeks. 3 weeks and 1 and a half days to be exact.
After the podiatry appointment I asked my mom to take me to the PCC since we were in West Seattle. There I loaded up on baby food since it is going to be a while since I can go to grocery shopping. Sure, I could have Ryan buy the food but I wanted to make sure it was organic and had a single ingredient only and wanted only vegetables, no fruit.
It was while at the PCC I encountered the first perk of the crutches. Instead of waiting in either of the two longish lines a cashier opened up his register and helped me. He opened up just long enough to help me then closed up again.
Since I wasn't in any big hurry to rush home to continue my confinement I took Mom on a driving tour of my 'new' neighborhood. Mom drove and I narrated what little I knew about the area.
The last stop on the tour O South Seattle was Galaxie Espresso where their coffee is out of this world. Yes, you may gag on my pun as it was fully intentional. Mom really enjoyed her Americano and I enjoyed my orange juice. Don't ask me why I got orange juice when a hand crafted espresso drink is going to be the ultimate treat these next couple of weeks. Lame. So, we drank our respective beverages and each at a very naughty chocolate croissant in just the right amount of time for as soon as we were done Gavin chimed in that he was sorry he refused his morning nap and could he please take the first of his afternoon naps now?
As I stood up my eyes fell on a shiny cane being held by a man at the counter. I followed the cane up and saw it belonged to a young man, and by young I mean in his 30's - funny how the definition of young changes as one ages. The young man saw my crutches and commented on how much more he liked my boot than the one he had. I told him it was brand new and to give it a few days. He asked what happened to my leg so I told him what I had done and "bunions: not just for old ladies, anymore". I asked him what happened to his leg.
He said he was shot. It took a second to register. At first I thought he was joking so I said, "Well, at least that's a cooler story than a bunion." To which he replied, "No, it's not."
I felt like a jerk but he followed it up with, "It would be if it was a gun fight and I had a gun and was shooting back."
We wished each other well and Mom and I left the store. Part of me wanted to know the story of the shooting but I could imagine where that story could go. It had the potential to be so much weirder than the Subway man's story about abandoning his children.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
TMI
I was one of those people who asked a question that maybe I should not have asked and as a result got an earful for a response. Here is how the whole thing went down.
Ryan and I started going to the gym in the evenings after Ryan gets off work. After our respective work outs we pick up Gavin from childcare and head home. Lately we've been stopping at Subway for dinner since they are having a great sale right now and I have not been able to have dinner ready before going to the gym.
Ryan met the new Subway employee a couple of weeks ago and decided he liked him. I met the new guy and sure enough he was really nice. Very warm and personable and easy to talk to.
Last week he was asking questions about Gavin. We were answering questions about Gavin. Since he was so interested in our son I thought I would ask him if he had children so I could give him an opportunity to show me pictures of his kids and to brag about them if he had them.
I am sorry I asked!
Here is how our conversation played out, the only thing I can't properly convey is the AWKWARDNESS of the whole unfortunate situation.
Me, with innocent doe like expression on my face: "So, do you have kids?"
Subway man: "Yes. They are with their mother. We had a problem and she took the kids."
Me, expression on face fading to uh-oh, what have I gotten myself into expression: "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."
Subway man: "It's OK. She went to the court and the judge gives her 85% of the time and me 15%. What is that? 15%? That is nothing. I say, 'You take 100%.' and I have not seen them in 3 years."
Me, now trying to not look disgusted and reaching for my debit card so we can get out of there: "Oh."
Subway man: "It's OK. I'm fine. I have a new life, no responsibility. My wife takes the children and pays for them; I have no responsibility. I haven't seen them in three years and that's OK."
Me, "Oh."
Subway man: "Don't feel sorry for me. I'm happy."
What I wanted to say was, "I don't feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for your kids since you abandoned them because you and your ex-wife had a falling out. You may be happy but what is the emotional toll you are inflicting on your kids?"
I left the store with a cold and empty feeling in my stomach. How can someone be so callous about abandoning their children? Does he not view his actions as abandonment? Ryan was pretty upset by the whole situation, too. He doesn't understand how he could not care about his kids.
As I write this I look at the the Wall O' Gavin that Ryan made. There are three 8"x10" black and white pictures that we took at home that he spent hours doctoring on photo shop (to remove baby acne and such) that he put in a frame we bought at Penny's when we were there for our 'formal' photo session for Gavin. Ryan put so much time and effort into lovingly displaying those photos of his son - it is such a contrast to the man at Subway.
Now for a rare moment of mushiness from me: I love my husband. He is a good man who loves his family and would do anything for us. I am very blessed to have Ryan in my life to be my partner and to help me raise Gavin and whatever other children God may give us. I am very content and thankful for all that the Lord has given to us. We are very blessed.
Ryan and I started going to the gym in the evenings after Ryan gets off work. After our respective work outs we pick up Gavin from childcare and head home. Lately we've been stopping at Subway for dinner since they are having a great sale right now and I have not been able to have dinner ready before going to the gym.
Ryan met the new Subway employee a couple of weeks ago and decided he liked him. I met the new guy and sure enough he was really nice. Very warm and personable and easy to talk to.
Last week he was asking questions about Gavin. We were answering questions about Gavin. Since he was so interested in our son I thought I would ask him if he had children so I could give him an opportunity to show me pictures of his kids and to brag about them if he had them.
I am sorry I asked!
Here is how our conversation played out, the only thing I can't properly convey is the AWKWARDNESS of the whole unfortunate situation.
Me, with innocent doe like expression on my face: "So, do you have kids?"
Subway man: "Yes. They are with their mother. We had a problem and she took the kids."
Me, expression on face fading to uh-oh, what have I gotten myself into expression: "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."
Subway man: "It's OK. She went to the court and the judge gives her 85% of the time and me 15%. What is that? 15%? That is nothing. I say, 'You take 100%.' and I have not seen them in 3 years."
Me, now trying to not look disgusted and reaching for my debit card so we can get out of there: "Oh."
Subway man: "It's OK. I'm fine. I have a new life, no responsibility. My wife takes the children and pays for them; I have no responsibility. I haven't seen them in three years and that's OK."
Me, "Oh."
Subway man: "Don't feel sorry for me. I'm happy."
What I wanted to say was, "I don't feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for your kids since you abandoned them because you and your ex-wife had a falling out. You may be happy but what is the emotional toll you are inflicting on your kids?"
I left the store with a cold and empty feeling in my stomach. How can someone be so callous about abandoning their children? Does he not view his actions as abandonment? Ryan was pretty upset by the whole situation, too. He doesn't understand how he could not care about his kids.
As I write this I look at the the Wall O' Gavin that Ryan made. There are three 8"x10" black and white pictures that we took at home that he spent hours doctoring on photo shop (to remove baby acne and such) that he put in a frame we bought at Penny's when we were there for our 'formal' photo session for Gavin. Ryan put so much time and effort into lovingly displaying those photos of his son - it is such a contrast to the man at Subway.
Now for a rare moment of mushiness from me: I love my husband. He is a good man who loves his family and would do anything for us. I am very blessed to have Ryan in my life to be my partner and to help me raise Gavin and whatever other children God may give us. I am very content and thankful for all that the Lord has given to us. We are very blessed.
Cabo, not so much Wabo
Before it is completely gone from my immediate memory I should write a bit about our vacation in Cabo San Lucas.
We stayed at the Riu Sante Fe, an all inclusive joint. When we arrived Ryan checked to see if there were any ocean view rooms available for an upgrade. There were not but there was a pool view room on the third floor that we could have for no additional charge.
Sweet!
Or so we thought.
The view was spectacular. We were smack dab in the middle of the courtyard overlooking the main pool and the beautiful grounds and since we spent a lot of time on our balcony we really took advantage of the view.
You know how in some countries the first floor is not counted? First floor is ground zero and the second floor is considered the first floor? Well, that's how it was in Mexico. Our third floor room was actually on the fourth floor. Bid deal you say.
I'll tell you what the big deal is: there were no elevators!
Walking four flights of stairs is normally not a big deal and I would normally enjoy the opportunity get some exercise versus taking the elevator.
Two factors changed my perspective on the absence of an elevator being a negative thing. One: we had head colds. All three of us. Huffing and puffing up and down four flights of stairs in the arid desert air was not exactly what the doctor ordered for swollen and irritated nasal passages. Two: we had Gavin. Gavin is portable in that he goes where we go because we carry him. He doesn't walk. We are at the point where we are glad he doesn't walk yet but oh, man. Carrying an 18 pound baby up and down four flights of stairs in the the dry, dry desert air while you have a cold does not make one feel any better.
The good thing about having a cold on vacation is that it really cuts down on indulgences. Why sample every dessert when you can't taste it? Why eat the bacon wrapped whatever when you could just as well have the slice of ham and side of rice?
There was evening entertainment but we did not partake in those activities because Gavin was in bed by 7:30 at the latest every night. Vacation was a good introduction for us into the world of early bird dinner specials. : )
A little over half way through our vacation the people in the room next to us had a fight. I don't mean a slightly heated argument I mean a knock down, drag out fight. We arrived back at our room after eating an early dinner when we heard people yelling in the room. We rolled our eyes at each other and went into our room. Ryan hopped in the shower. The fighting became louder and louder. Finally I called the front desk and asked for security to come up. At one point the man in the other room screamed so loud that I could feel it reverberate in my chest and in the walls. It almost echoed it was so loud. This time I stepped outside of the room and heard something being thrown around and a woman crying. Then it went silent. Then I heard a man crying. I heard him saying, "Anna? Anna? Anna?"
In my head he just killed her. So I retreat back to my room and call the security again. Anna was however alive because Ryan saw her trying to leave the room and her boyfriend trying to pull her back in. Ryan yelled at the guy and some other dudes from down the hall came out and the boyfriend retreated into his room. The dudes made sure Anna was OK and told us the room they were in should there be more trouble later on. We urged Anna to come into our room to collect herself.
Anna came in our room and sat down on the floor and cried. I gave her a hug and sat there with her. She was in a state of shock. She said she is always the one who gets girlfriends out of these kinds of relationships, she is never the one... She is such a nice, beautiful girl who has such a big heart that I bet she stayed in the relationship even though she said she was going to leave. If she is always trying to fix her girlfriends and to save them then why wouldn't she try to 'fix' her boyfriend? I hope I'm wrong.
She stayed with us for about an hour until she figured her boyfriend had passed out from being drunk. We told her she didn't have to leave and that the hotel would probably help her find another room for the night since she was leaving the next day anyway.
I saw her the next morning walking back to her room; a few paces ahead of her was her boyfriend. We exchanged near silent hellos and she immediately put her eyes to the floor.
That was the real excitement of the trip. Excitement we could have done without but I think we handled ourselves and that situation well.
The rest of the trip we did pretty much what we did the first half of the trip: eat, swim, nap, eat, sleep. I was able to finish my book on vaccinations that my doctor recommended but I didn't get far with any other reading. There was still a lot of work to be done with Gavin.
My plan is to post some pictures of him swimming later in the week when I'm at my mother's-in-law's house. Too bad we don't have many pictures of the poolside bars. Those are so much fun! I enjoyed swimming up to the bar and ordering my virgin daiquiri or virgin pina colada although the bar stools (submerged under water) were so slick that I would often slide right off. People probably thought I was cutting myself off when they heard me order my virgin drinks.
As much fun as a swim up bar is it just seems like a really bad idea. Swimming is dangerous enough when everyone in the water is sober but you throw booze into the picture it takes everything up a notch, or down, depending on how you look at it. I bet one is much more likely to win a Darwin award after drinking than one would if one were sober.
We stayed at the Riu Sante Fe, an all inclusive joint. When we arrived Ryan checked to see if there were any ocean view rooms available for an upgrade. There were not but there was a pool view room on the third floor that we could have for no additional charge.
Sweet!
Or so we thought.
The view was spectacular. We were smack dab in the middle of the courtyard overlooking the main pool and the beautiful grounds and since we spent a lot of time on our balcony we really took advantage of the view.
You know how in some countries the first floor is not counted? First floor is ground zero and the second floor is considered the first floor? Well, that's how it was in Mexico. Our third floor room was actually on the fourth floor. Bid deal you say.
I'll tell you what the big deal is: there were no elevators!
Walking four flights of stairs is normally not a big deal and I would normally enjoy the opportunity get some exercise versus taking the elevator.
Two factors changed my perspective on the absence of an elevator being a negative thing. One: we had head colds. All three of us. Huffing and puffing up and down four flights of stairs in the arid desert air was not exactly what the doctor ordered for swollen and irritated nasal passages. Two: we had Gavin. Gavin is portable in that he goes where we go because we carry him. He doesn't walk. We are at the point where we are glad he doesn't walk yet but oh, man. Carrying an 18 pound baby up and down four flights of stairs in the the dry, dry desert air while you have a cold does not make one feel any better.
The good thing about having a cold on vacation is that it really cuts down on indulgences. Why sample every dessert when you can't taste it? Why eat the bacon wrapped whatever when you could just as well have the slice of ham and side of rice?
There was evening entertainment but we did not partake in those activities because Gavin was in bed by 7:30 at the latest every night. Vacation was a good introduction for us into the world of early bird dinner specials. : )
A little over half way through our vacation the people in the room next to us had a fight. I don't mean a slightly heated argument I mean a knock down, drag out fight. We arrived back at our room after eating an early dinner when we heard people yelling in the room. We rolled our eyes at each other and went into our room. Ryan hopped in the shower. The fighting became louder and louder. Finally I called the front desk and asked for security to come up. At one point the man in the other room screamed so loud that I could feel it reverberate in my chest and in the walls. It almost echoed it was so loud. This time I stepped outside of the room and heard something being thrown around and a woman crying. Then it went silent. Then I heard a man crying. I heard him saying, "Anna? Anna? Anna?"
In my head he just killed her. So I retreat back to my room and call the security again. Anna was however alive because Ryan saw her trying to leave the room and her boyfriend trying to pull her back in. Ryan yelled at the guy and some other dudes from down the hall came out and the boyfriend retreated into his room. The dudes made sure Anna was OK and told us the room they were in should there be more trouble later on. We urged Anna to come into our room to collect herself.
Anna came in our room and sat down on the floor and cried. I gave her a hug and sat there with her. She was in a state of shock. She said she is always the one who gets girlfriends out of these kinds of relationships, she is never the one... She is such a nice, beautiful girl who has such a big heart that I bet she stayed in the relationship even though she said she was going to leave. If she is always trying to fix her girlfriends and to save them then why wouldn't she try to 'fix' her boyfriend? I hope I'm wrong.
She stayed with us for about an hour until she figured her boyfriend had passed out from being drunk. We told her she didn't have to leave and that the hotel would probably help her find another room for the night since she was leaving the next day anyway.
I saw her the next morning walking back to her room; a few paces ahead of her was her boyfriend. We exchanged near silent hellos and she immediately put her eyes to the floor.
That was the real excitement of the trip. Excitement we could have done without but I think we handled ourselves and that situation well.
The rest of the trip we did pretty much what we did the first half of the trip: eat, swim, nap, eat, sleep. I was able to finish my book on vaccinations that my doctor recommended but I didn't get far with any other reading. There was still a lot of work to be done with Gavin.
My plan is to post some pictures of him swimming later in the week when I'm at my mother's-in-law's house. Too bad we don't have many pictures of the poolside bars. Those are so much fun! I enjoyed swimming up to the bar and ordering my virgin daiquiri or virgin pina colada although the bar stools (submerged under water) were so slick that I would often slide right off. People probably thought I was cutting myself off when they heard me order my virgin drinks.
As much fun as a swim up bar is it just seems like a really bad idea. Swimming is dangerous enough when everyone in the water is sober but you throw booze into the picture it takes everything up a notch, or down, depending on how you look at it. I bet one is much more likely to win a Darwin award after drinking than one would if one were sober.
Stairs
There is my foot all bandaged up. My first cast and not one signature. I was fortunate enough as a kid that I was either a) inactive enough that I didn't break a limb or b) graceful enough that I didn't break a limb. Ask me and I'll tell you the reason is b. You ask anyone else and they will tell you the answer is a. Although I never had a desire for the pain that went along with a broken arm or leg I did want the cast and the attention that goes along with it when I was a kid. Now that I do have a cast I have a lame story to accompany it. No, I didn't lift a car off my baby to save him. No, I didn't fall out of a tree rescuing a kitten. Yes, I did have a bunion and a torn tendon from a couple of years ago when I sprained my ankle taking a light suitcase down some stairs while I was wearing sandals.
Today was a good day. I left the house for the first time since arriving home Wednesday afternoon. Before we left the house I read a comment on-line about the nice weather we had on Friday. I turned to Ryan who was sitting next to me on the couch and asked if it was true that Friday was a nice day. He confirmed it was indeed a sunny day. I think I need to put "open curtains" on the daily to-do list.
It was so nice to get out of the house! Fresh air and sunshine on my face! It was great. Going down the stairs was much easier than going up the stairs. The stairs leading up to our house don't have a hand rail on the right side so I scooted up the stairs on my butt like I did the other day on the basement stairs.
My mom is coming up tomorrow and part of me wants to plan something because I'm getting cabin fever but I know that I should stay put and rest. I don't know who is more excited about my mom coming up, me or Ryan.
I could really get used to this whole have someone take care of you deal. It's the best! (Minus that part about needing help because you are helpless).
Friday, April 25, 2008
Third Boob & Best Back Scratcher
Here is the bra story I promised and so much more...
Using crutches to walk with the added hindrance of not being able to even set my dominant foot (right one) down is kind of tricky especially for someone like me who is not exactly twinkle toes. It was about 5 am when I got out of bed Thursday to take some pain medicine and to eat breakfast. I managed to make it to the kitchen in one piece but now I had to fill my water bottle, take my pills and eat.
My lounging pajama bottoms don't have pockets which I don't completely understand. Some PJ's have pockets, why not lounging pants? It didn't matter since I discovered an old friend worked great as a pocket. Why, I was able to fit a small apple and two bottles of drugs into the middle of my bra. Wow! That freed up my hands to use my crutches while still allowing me to carry a bottle of water and a bag of Sunchips. Can't go wrong with Sunchips and an apple for breakfast.
I've been writing on this particular post on and off all day. I am so loopy that I really hope this makes sense. I should have Ryan proof read it first but he might get a kick out of me misspelling a word or something. Wow. It is time to be done with this. I just looked down and there was a sentence that said something like: "fanks for doi tis.
Using crutches to walk with the added hindrance of not being able to even set my dominant foot (right one) down is kind of tricky especially for someone like me who is not exactly twinkle toes. It was about 5 am when I got out of bed Thursday to take some pain medicine and to eat breakfast. I managed to make it to the kitchen in one piece but now I had to fill my water bottle, take my pills and eat.
My lounging pajama bottoms don't have pockets which I don't completely understand. Some PJ's have pockets, why not lounging pants? It didn't matter since I discovered an old friend worked great as a pocket. Why, I was able to fit a small apple and two bottles of drugs into the middle of my bra. Wow! That freed up my hands to use my crutches while still allowing me to carry a bottle of water and a bag of Sunchips. Can't go wrong with Sunchips and an apple for breakfast.
I even managed to make a pot of coffee, too. It wasn't too difficult to do, either. It was so easy in fact that I think I'll make coffee again today; every other day isn't so bad. I make the pot and have Ryan bring the carafe to the living room with my mug.
The next time I run out of coffee I have to make a special trip to Wallingford (a cutesy neighborhood in Seattle) to buy some Litehouse coffee. Litehouse coffee deserves a whole post devoted solely to its wonderful goodness. My first fateful sip of the oh so smooth coffee was at Trophy Cupcakes which was very fitting to have the best cupcakes in Seattle served with the best coffee in Seattle, too. Unfortunately Litehouse roasters are based in Portland and there is only one place to buy their coffee in Seattle.
Right now I have a can each of whole bean regular and decaf from Trader Joe's. They were sampling their Bolivian blend when I was at the Burien store a few weeks ago with my friend Jenn (it was really good) but I couldn't remember the name of it so I called Jenn on Tuesday afternoon when I was at the uber cramped TJs on Madison because that is the stuff she buys. Fortunately she remembered. I'm going to take the Bolivian blend out to my mother's-in-laws house with me along with my grinder since they are not coffee drinkers themselves.
Wow. It's almost 4 am and Gavin hasn't been up since about 11. Way to go, little G! Let your Daddy sleep. I'm up because I needed to move my leg a bit. I want to take this darn cast off already. My leg itches and I can't do a darn thing about it.
I know I mentioned earlier that the drugs they gave me for the surgery made me itch. Well, that itching is nothing compared to the itching that oxycodone brings on. It is so bad that I am willing to take less effective drugs for pain.
Ryan is way too nice when he scratches my back for me so I had to take matters into my own hands. I got out the big gun: the pasta scoop. Oh, yeah. Now were talkin' 'bout some extreme scratching action going on. It has 12 prongs with a slightly rough surface - perfect for serious scratching.
Save the lectures on scratching for someone who cares because it is not possible for me to care even less than I do now. If the scratching of the itch feels good right now then that is what I'm going to do.I've been writing on this particular post on and off all day. I am so loopy that I really hope this makes sense. I should have Ryan proof read it first but he might get a kick out of me misspelling a word or something. Wow. It is time to be done with this. I just looked down and there was a sentence that said something like: "fanks for doi tis.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Gimp
I can't say or even write the word 'gimp' without a thinking of Owen Wilson in Meet the Parents. That is such a funny movie and the scene where Owen Wilson talks about the dog with the hurt paw is so funny. After watching it with roommates back when Ryan and I were dating we all would laugh when if someone used the word, bonus points for holding up your hand like a hurt paw. Ah, I miss Amee. If you read this Amee: I miss you!
So, back to my state of gimpiness.
I went under the knife yesterday afternoon. My surgical package included a bunion repair, aka lapidus something or other, and a peroneal tendon repair but it did not include the calf muscle repair they thought might be necessary as it was related to the torn tendon. At least I don't think they did it. I asked twice and they told me twice and I think I've forgotten twice. My calf doesn't hurt so I'm assuming it was left alone.
The anesthesiologist sounded like Hawkeye from M.A.S.H., at least I think his name was Hawkeye - the one who was always dressing up like a woman. So, Dr. Hawkeye sold me on a spinal for anesthesia instead of general (where they completely knock you out) because it would be better for Gavin as I'm breastfeeding.
Side note: I almost wrote, "still breastfeeding" but realized that has a negative connotation as if 'm doing something abnormal for breastfeeding at 6 months. Well, lemme tell ya (although you are probably well aware) breastfeeding is the best for baby and great for moms and the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding for 18 months.
So... I curl up in the fetal position on the tiny operating table and Dr. Hawkeye puts the needle in my back sans lidocaine (numbing medicine) because he said the needle for the lidocaine is much larger than the one for the spinal. It didn't hurt, not even a little. It was an odd sensation, though. It was nothing compared to the epidural when I gave birth to Gavin.
Legs go numb then I was given the sleepy medicine. He only gives me a little and tells me so. I ask if I will be able to feel pressure and stuff being done on my foot. He assures me that I will but it will not be painful. Since that feeling creeps me out like you wouldn't believe I ask him to give me more. He complied and I had a great nap.
Ah, nothing exciting happened. I'm bored just writing about it.
Recovery was a little more exciting since I was lying next to the female version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. There was a concrete like barrier between our gurneys, you know, a curtain. She was crying because she was in pain. Her partner/husband/boyfriend/companion was with her. I don't know why he was with her. She was so abusive towards him. I know being in pain can make someone a little snappy but she was just nasty to her man and sweet as pie to everyone else around her. She heard Gavin cooing and said, "He sounds cute," to which I replied, "He is, wanna see him?" Then I had Ryan take Gavin over so she could gaze on the cuteness that is Gavin.
Man: "What about the kids?" (I have no idea what the guy said since he was so soft spoken).
Grumpy: "They're at my moms; she said it's not safe. Can't you hear? Clean out your f-ing ears! F! What's wrong with you? Are you an idiot?!"
That was pretty much their conversations.
Here is a snippet of mine and Ryan's conversation:
Me: "Hi, honey! Hi, Gavin! Ryan scratch my back please."
Ryan: "How was surgery......."
Me: "Great. Scratch my back, please. How was your day."
Ryan: "Great, I .... blah, blah, blah."
Me. "Great. Scratch my back please."
I forgot how those anesthesia drugs make you itch like crazy. Argh. Just thinking about it makes me itch. Or the oxycodone I took at 5 am are making me itch.
Does it drive anyone else out there nuts when people use itch and scratch interchangeably?
Getting upstairs to the house was fun when we got home. And by fun I really mean no fun at all. We figured the easiest way in would be through the basement. It wasn't that bad but I can't do crutches on stairs so I sat on the steps and scooted my way up. I'm so glad the discharge nurse suggested that.
Except for one excursion to the bathroom I stayed planted on the sofa the rest of the night with my foot propped up. Poor Ryan; he had to do everything. He is going to have to do everything for the next 5 days at least until my mom maybe arrives (if not I will go out to my mother's-in-laws house earlier).
I don't know what I'm going to do about coffee this morning. Ryan doesn't drink coffee. I know I could teach him how to make it but I think that could very well be the one request that would be akin to a straw on the camel's back. He is going to go into the office today as he has some work to finish up so he has to get me all situated, get ready himself and get Gavin ready. The only thing he isn't taking over in the house is breastfeeding.
There is one last story of my bra doing double duty (no pun intended) but the spacey component of the drugs I took a little while ago are kicking in to full gear so I'm going to stop writing because it is requiring more energy with each passing stroke of the keyboard. Just writing that last sentence was a monumental accomplishment. Definitely using spell check today.
So, back to my state of gimpiness.
I went under the knife yesterday afternoon. My surgical package included a bunion repair, aka lapidus something or other, and a peroneal tendon repair but it did not include the calf muscle repair they thought might be necessary as it was related to the torn tendon. At least I don't think they did it. I asked twice and they told me twice and I think I've forgotten twice. My calf doesn't hurt so I'm assuming it was left alone.
The anesthesiologist sounded like Hawkeye from M.A.S.H., at least I think his name was Hawkeye - the one who was always dressing up like a woman. So, Dr. Hawkeye sold me on a spinal for anesthesia instead of general (where they completely knock you out) because it would be better for Gavin as I'm breastfeeding.
Side note: I almost wrote, "still breastfeeding" but realized that has a negative connotation as if 'm doing something abnormal for breastfeeding at 6 months. Well, lemme tell ya (although you are probably well aware) breastfeeding is the best for baby and great for moms and the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding for 18 months.
So... I curl up in the fetal position on the tiny operating table and Dr. Hawkeye puts the needle in my back sans lidocaine (numbing medicine) because he said the needle for the lidocaine is much larger than the one for the spinal. It didn't hurt, not even a little. It was an odd sensation, though. It was nothing compared to the epidural when I gave birth to Gavin.
Legs go numb then I was given the sleepy medicine. He only gives me a little and tells me so. I ask if I will be able to feel pressure and stuff being done on my foot. He assures me that I will but it will not be painful. Since that feeling creeps me out like you wouldn't believe I ask him to give me more. He complied and I had a great nap.
Ah, nothing exciting happened. I'm bored just writing about it.
Recovery was a little more exciting since I was lying next to the female version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. There was a concrete like barrier between our gurneys, you know, a curtain. She was crying because she was in pain. Her partner/husband/boyfriend/companion was with her. I don't know why he was with her. She was so abusive towards him. I know being in pain can make someone a little snappy but she was just nasty to her man and sweet as pie to everyone else around her. She heard Gavin cooing and said, "He sounds cute," to which I replied, "He is, wanna see him?" Then I had Ryan take Gavin over so she could gaze on the cuteness that is Gavin.
Man: "What about the kids?" (I have no idea what the guy said since he was so soft spoken).
Grumpy: "They're at my moms; she said it's not safe. Can't you hear? Clean out your f-ing ears! F! What's wrong with you? Are you an idiot?!"
That was pretty much their conversations.
Here is a snippet of mine and Ryan's conversation:
Me: "Hi, honey! Hi, Gavin! Ryan scratch my back please."
Ryan: "How was surgery......."
Me: "Great. Scratch my back, please. How was your day."
Ryan: "Great, I .... blah, blah, blah."
Me. "Great. Scratch my back please."
I forgot how those anesthesia drugs make you itch like crazy. Argh. Just thinking about it makes me itch. Or the oxycodone I took at 5 am are making me itch.
Does it drive anyone else out there nuts when people use itch and scratch interchangeably?
Getting upstairs to the house was fun when we got home. And by fun I really mean no fun at all. We figured the easiest way in would be through the basement. It wasn't that bad but I can't do crutches on stairs so I sat on the steps and scooted my way up. I'm so glad the discharge nurse suggested that.
Except for one excursion to the bathroom I stayed planted on the sofa the rest of the night with my foot propped up. Poor Ryan; he had to do everything. He is going to have to do everything for the next 5 days at least until my mom maybe arrives (if not I will go out to my mother's-in-laws house earlier).
I don't know what I'm going to do about coffee this morning. Ryan doesn't drink coffee. I know I could teach him how to make it but I think that could very well be the one request that would be akin to a straw on the camel's back. He is going to go into the office today as he has some work to finish up so he has to get me all situated, get ready himself and get Gavin ready. The only thing he isn't taking over in the house is breastfeeding.
There is one last story of my bra doing double duty (no pun intended) but the spacey component of the drugs I took a little while ago are kicking in to full gear so I'm going to stop writing because it is requiring more energy with each passing stroke of the keyboard. Just writing that last sentence was a monumental accomplishment. Definitely using spell check today.
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