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.
Monday, April 28, 2008
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.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Cultural Clash
Our last morning of vacation was pretty relaxing since we did most of our packing the night before. Besides, check out wasn't until 11 and our taxi wouldn't be there until 11:30. That gave us plenty of time to eat breakfast and use up the last few minutes of our Internet time making sure our flight was on-time.
At the airport each bag was opened and checked before you could check in. That line took forever. Or so we thought. The security check fast. Boarding the airplane was fast enough. That was the end of anything fast.
The pilot got on the overhead speaker and told us that there was a small mechanical problem (couldn't get the fuel cap on/off - something minor). It would take a few minutes to repair and then they would have to fill out some paperwork and we would be on our way.
HA!
Mechanics were dispatched and they did their duties and fixed the fuel cap thingy. Paperwork was filled out. The little TV screens came down and the safety video was started. We learned about emergency exits and water "landings" but then the pilot interrupted the riveting safety video.
It turns out that if he flew the plane from Los Cabos, Mexico to San Francisco he would have exceeded the maximum flying time allowed for a pilot in any 24 hour period. Therefore our flight was cancelled.
Cancelled.
Porque?
The Los Cabos airport is tiny. Not just tiny but teeny tiny. There was no way another airline could take us. We were stranded!
OK, we weren't stranded really. Just delayed by a day. United hooked us up with some great accommodations. Accommodations that were just a 15 minute drive from the airport.
Here is where the cultural clash part comes in. I tend to think of myself as more of a type B personality. I found out that in when something goes a little wrong in Mexico I am type A and everyone around me is type B. There should be a rating system for personalities like there is for blood.
A+ An energetic go getter
A- An angry workaholic
B+ A happy go lucky person
B- A lazy sloth of a person
AB+ One who has energy but knows how to chill
AB- eh, I dunno. Can't think of anything for O, either.
So back to my story of frustration.
Unfortunately it would take 3 hours from the time we got off the airplane to get to our nice digs for the evening. Yes, you read that right. It took THREE hours to get our bags and into a taxi and to the hotel 15 minutes away. Time stands still in Mexico. That is a good thing when you are on the beach or swimming in a pool but not when you are waiting for luggage or taxis or flights to leave on time.
At every airport I've ever been to the baggage collection has been the same. Wait at the carousel, look with eager anticipation for each bag birthed through the black rubber flaps to see if it is yours and when, after 20 minutes of let downs, you spy your bag you grab it and figure out the best way to get out of the airport.
That was the procedure the previous Saturday when we arrived in Los Cabos. Our bags were put on the carousel and we took grabbed our respective bags and hopped in waiting taxis to take us to our respective destinations.
On this day however, the fine folks at United wanted to check each of the 153 passengers baggage claim tickets before releasing the luggage to us. While our luggage was being unloaded and lined up against a wall 15 feet away from us they sent out their most soft spoken employee to speak to the masses. The mass of people that was growing grumpier and grumpier with each passing second. They were quick to arrange the accommodations for us, maybe a half hour for that. The soft spoken employee told us, "The first 120 people will stay in hotel X and the rest will stay in hotel Y. The flight tomorrow is at 7 am. We will have buses waiting for you at your hotels at 4:30 am as you will need to be here at 5 am."
She repeated that no less than 50 times and she had the nerve to look annoyed. Could they have not sent out a louder employee? She was not the only one who spoke English. Nerdy.
So... we are standing there waiting for our luggage. The mousy woman is telling everyone to have their baggage claim tickets out. Everyone behind me looks confused because they can't hear her instructions so I hold up my baggage claim tickets and say, "Have these out and ready." Everyone says, "Oh." Then they look confused again because NO ONE EVER USES THEM. So I then hold up the envelope with the tickets where they stapled them. That cleared up confusion about where they were but not about why they wanted us to have them out.
People start getting antsy about an hour into the wait for the luggage that is sitting there, so close yet so far away. People start going to get their bags after 15 minutes of the employees telling us they are going to call names and check tickets without one name being called. United employees balk at the passengers as we storm over to get our bags. We go commando on them and break through the sturdy barrier of red plastic tape and get our bags in a nice and orderly fashion.
With our bags in tow we all go to the front where we are told buses are going to be to take us to our hotels. We go outside and lo and behold there are no buses. We ask, "When will transportation arrive for us?" "Ten to fifteen minutes," we are told.
Ten to fifteen minutes pass, then a few more minutes. We again ask, "Where are the buses?"
Ten to fifteen minutes away.
An hour and a half later we are one of the last of the passengers to get into a taxi van. There are three seats open in front of us. The driver is standing outside the van. Our luggage is loaded in the van. There are other passengers milling about, there are United employees milling about. We are sitting in the taxi waiting to get out of there.
I waive a United employee over. I ask her what our taxi is waiting for. She says, "More passengers." Duh. I say, "Can we just get three more people in here and leave?" She pokes her head in the van and I hear, "uno, dos, tres..." as she takes tally of the people in the van. She turns around and another United employee sticks his head in the van and I hear, "uno, dos, tres..."
(#*%&#@(*&
We only need 3 more people!
It doesn't take 10 minutes to find 3 people to stick in the van. Lame. Finally three more people are loaded up and we are off to the hotel.
The hotel was nice. We check in and try to make a free international call but they were smart enough to not make that a part of our package so Ryan gives the front desk man our credit card information so I can call my friend who is house/dog sitting and let her know what was going on.
By this time it was almost 7 pm. We take advantage of the last bit of warmth and get into our bathing suits and hop in the pool for all of 10 minutes before getting out to eat dinner. Dinner was OK. I had a cold so the food on vacation was at time completely flavorless.
With just a few hours to sleep before our 4 am wake up call we had the lights out at 10 pm. Four am came early especially since Gavin wanted a midnight snack ala Mom at a quarter to 3.
Being the good passengers that we are we were downstairs ready to go by 4:30. We ate a muffin that the hotel provided as our breakfast and I had a cup of coffee.
Other passengers were getting into taxi vans. I was waiting for a big bus to show up. Lots of us were waiting for a big bus to show up. It was nearing 5 am and we realized United lied to us again. There was no bus coming to pick us up. We eventually got into a taxi who told us $25 to go to the airport.
We get to the airport and the taxi driver tries to get $5 a person. There were 9 of us in the van. I don't think so, Mr. Taxi Driver.
We negotiate with him to give him the $25 cab fare between the 9 of us and we see him try to get reimbursed from the airline, too. We let him take it up with the airline but make sure he gets paid. The airline pays him.
At this point we are all really, really grumpy. They stole our day and made us wait at that cursed airport for 3 hours then they don't pick us up like they promised us. To make matters worse for United we had 3 hours to bond with our fellow ticked off passengers the day before, that evening at the hotel, that morning waiting for our transportation, the ride to the airport and finally while waiting in line to have our luggage checked again. We were like a big family all united against United.
At long last we have our bags checked. It was about an hour from the time we arrived at the airport until we had our bags checked. Save our flight the airport was closed. The same crew that helped us the day before was there to help us again. I use the word 'help' very loosely.
Mr. United employee checks us in and gives us our boarding passes. Ryan says, "What about our connecting flight to Seattle?" Mr. United gives us a blank look with a hint of annoyance. "Seattle?"
Ryan, "Yes. Seattle. We were told yesterday that all connecting flights would be taken care of overnight."
Mr. United, "Hmm. No. I don't see anything."
Me: "What?!!! We were told this was going to be taken care of last night. Why wasn't it taken care of? We were promised! Why? Why?" I think I said more but it was incoherent babbling.
Mr. United, "Oh. I see. Seattle. Your connecting flight is at 6:00."
Me and Ryan: "No! 6:00? We have to hang out in the airport all day?!"
Ryan to me: "Don't worry, we'll get an earlier flight when we get in San Francisco."
Mr. United doesn't give us any connecting flight information when Ryan asks for it because he says we will get it in San Francisco.
LIAR.
So we go through security and dump all of our waters even though they allowed us to keep one the day before "for the baby."
7 am comes and goes. All stores are closed. We are growing restless and hungry. The United employees tell us nothing. Our flight was supposed to leave at 7, maybe 7:30. 7:30 comes and goes and still we are waiting in the terminal. We are finally told the pilot is trying to secure food for us on our our less than 3 hour flight.
That nearly brought us to riot stage. Food?! Our flight was delayed another hour for food? It's a nice thought but we just wanted to get out of there.
At 8 am we finally board the plane and the pilot tells us that he thought he had secured food for us the night before by talking to corporate who apparently were less than helpful and really ticked the pilot off. So much so that he has the flight attendants hand out his business card with the CEO's information on it. I think I'm going to send the CEO a link to this post if he wants the full story.
We take off and land in San Francisco. Yipee.
The story is not over yet.
We go to the nearest United counter in hopes of catching an earlier flight. The United employee is very nice but says, "You don't have a connecting flight."
What?
Me to Ryan, "He lied to us! He was just trying to get us out of his hair! Why would he do that? Why? Why?"
Nice United woman looks for another United flight for us. They are all booked so I ask her to check other airlines because Alaska has flights like every hour. They are not only booked the whole rest of the day they are all oversold.
It was at this point I felt tears forming. I tried some self talk, "April, pull it together. Don't cry. Wait, cry! Don't fight it! Cry like there's no tomorrow."
Waterworks ensue with me babbling about my baby (who is crying in my arms), my cats and dog at home with no one to let them out or to feed them. She tells us we can try to fly standby.
If we try standby then our luggage goes to Seattle even if we don't. What do we do then if we don't get on a flight? Besides are we supposed to spend our WHOLE day in the airport in the hopes that we get a flight? I ask for her supervisor. She was very nice but supervisors can do just a little more.
She checked connecting flights and told us there were going to be some close calls and that we had a shot of getting on the 12:41 flight. So we did what any good Christian folk would do and prayed that some people would be a wee bit late for their connecting flight so we could get home since we were already a day late. We were put to the top of the list and we actually made it on that flight!
Now we are trying to go to the website United gave us so we can "select a token of our appreciation for your patience and understanding" (gag) and the site can not be found. Lame.
OK, that's enough for a rant on United. They did get us home safe and with all of our luggage so it could have been worse.
At the airport each bag was opened and checked before you could check in. That line took forever. Or so we thought. The security check fast. Boarding the airplane was fast enough. That was the end of anything fast.
The pilot got on the overhead speaker and told us that there was a small mechanical problem (couldn't get the fuel cap on/off - something minor). It would take a few minutes to repair and then they would have to fill out some paperwork and we would be on our way.
HA!
Mechanics were dispatched and they did their duties and fixed the fuel cap thingy. Paperwork was filled out. The little TV screens came down and the safety video was started. We learned about emergency exits and water "landings" but then the pilot interrupted the riveting safety video.
It turns out that if he flew the plane from Los Cabos, Mexico to San Francisco he would have exceeded the maximum flying time allowed for a pilot in any 24 hour period. Therefore our flight was cancelled.
Cancelled.
Porque?
The Los Cabos airport is tiny. Not just tiny but teeny tiny. There was no way another airline could take us. We were stranded!
OK, we weren't stranded really. Just delayed by a day. United hooked us up with some great accommodations. Accommodations that were just a 15 minute drive from the airport.
Here is where the cultural clash part comes in. I tend to think of myself as more of a type B personality. I found out that in when something goes a little wrong in Mexico I am type A and everyone around me is type B. There should be a rating system for personalities like there is for blood.
A+ An energetic go getter
A- An angry workaholic
B+ A happy go lucky person
B- A lazy sloth of a person
AB+ One who has energy but knows how to chill
AB- eh, I dunno. Can't think of anything for O, either.
So back to my story of frustration.
Unfortunately it would take 3 hours from the time we got off the airplane to get to our nice digs for the evening. Yes, you read that right. It took THREE hours to get our bags and into a taxi and to the hotel 15 minutes away. Time stands still in Mexico. That is a good thing when you are on the beach or swimming in a pool but not when you are waiting for luggage or taxis or flights to leave on time.
At every airport I've ever been to the baggage collection has been the same. Wait at the carousel, look with eager anticipation for each bag birthed through the black rubber flaps to see if it is yours and when, after 20 minutes of let downs, you spy your bag you grab it and figure out the best way to get out of the airport.
That was the procedure the previous Saturday when we arrived in Los Cabos. Our bags were put on the carousel and we took grabbed our respective bags and hopped in waiting taxis to take us to our respective destinations.
On this day however, the fine folks at United wanted to check each of the 153 passengers baggage claim tickets before releasing the luggage to us. While our luggage was being unloaded and lined up against a wall 15 feet away from us they sent out their most soft spoken employee to speak to the masses. The mass of people that was growing grumpier and grumpier with each passing second. They were quick to arrange the accommodations for us, maybe a half hour for that. The soft spoken employee told us, "The first 120 people will stay in hotel X and the rest will stay in hotel Y. The flight tomorrow is at 7 am. We will have buses waiting for you at your hotels at 4:30 am as you will need to be here at 5 am."
She repeated that no less than 50 times and she had the nerve to look annoyed. Could they have not sent out a louder employee? She was not the only one who spoke English. Nerdy.
So... we are standing there waiting for our luggage. The mousy woman is telling everyone to have their baggage claim tickets out. Everyone behind me looks confused because they can't hear her instructions so I hold up my baggage claim tickets and say, "Have these out and ready." Everyone says, "Oh." Then they look confused again because NO ONE EVER USES THEM. So I then hold up the envelope with the tickets where they stapled them. That cleared up confusion about where they were but not about why they wanted us to have them out.
People start getting antsy about an hour into the wait for the luggage that is sitting there, so close yet so far away. People start going to get their bags after 15 minutes of the employees telling us they are going to call names and check tickets without one name being called. United employees balk at the passengers as we storm over to get our bags. We go commando on them and break through the sturdy barrier of red plastic tape and get our bags in a nice and orderly fashion.
With our bags in tow we all go to the front where we are told buses are going to be to take us to our hotels. We go outside and lo and behold there are no buses. We ask, "When will transportation arrive for us?" "Ten to fifteen minutes," we are told.
Ten to fifteen minutes pass, then a few more minutes. We again ask, "Where are the buses?"
Ten to fifteen minutes away.
An hour and a half later we are one of the last of the passengers to get into a taxi van. There are three seats open in front of us. The driver is standing outside the van. Our luggage is loaded in the van. There are other passengers milling about, there are United employees milling about. We are sitting in the taxi waiting to get out of there.
I waive a United employee over. I ask her what our taxi is waiting for. She says, "More passengers." Duh. I say, "Can we just get three more people in here and leave?" She pokes her head in the van and I hear, "uno, dos, tres..." as she takes tally of the people in the van. She turns around and another United employee sticks his head in the van and I hear, "uno, dos, tres..."
(#*%&#@(*&
We only need 3 more people!
It doesn't take 10 minutes to find 3 people to stick in the van. Lame. Finally three more people are loaded up and we are off to the hotel.
The hotel was nice. We check in and try to make a free international call but they were smart enough to not make that a part of our package so Ryan gives the front desk man our credit card information so I can call my friend who is house/dog sitting and let her know what was going on.
By this time it was almost 7 pm. We take advantage of the last bit of warmth and get into our bathing suits and hop in the pool for all of 10 minutes before getting out to eat dinner. Dinner was OK. I had a cold so the food on vacation was at time completely flavorless.
With just a few hours to sleep before our 4 am wake up call we had the lights out at 10 pm. Four am came early especially since Gavin wanted a midnight snack ala Mom at a quarter to 3.
Being the good passengers that we are we were downstairs ready to go by 4:30. We ate a muffin that the hotel provided as our breakfast and I had a cup of coffee.
Other passengers were getting into taxi vans. I was waiting for a big bus to show up. Lots of us were waiting for a big bus to show up. It was nearing 5 am and we realized United lied to us again. There was no bus coming to pick us up. We eventually got into a taxi who told us $25 to go to the airport.
We get to the airport and the taxi driver tries to get $5 a person. There were 9 of us in the van. I don't think so, Mr. Taxi Driver.
We negotiate with him to give him the $25 cab fare between the 9 of us and we see him try to get reimbursed from the airline, too. We let him take it up with the airline but make sure he gets paid. The airline pays him.
At this point we are all really, really grumpy. They stole our day and made us wait at that cursed airport for 3 hours then they don't pick us up like they promised us. To make matters worse for United we had 3 hours to bond with our fellow ticked off passengers the day before, that evening at the hotel, that morning waiting for our transportation, the ride to the airport and finally while waiting in line to have our luggage checked again. We were like a big family all united against United.
At long last we have our bags checked. It was about an hour from the time we arrived at the airport until we had our bags checked. Save our flight the airport was closed. The same crew that helped us the day before was there to help us again. I use the word 'help' very loosely.
Mr. United employee checks us in and gives us our boarding passes. Ryan says, "What about our connecting flight to Seattle?" Mr. United gives us a blank look with a hint of annoyance. "Seattle?"
Ryan, "Yes. Seattle. We were told yesterday that all connecting flights would be taken care of overnight."
Mr. United, "Hmm. No. I don't see anything."
Me: "What?!!! We were told this was going to be taken care of last night. Why wasn't it taken care of? We were promised! Why? Why?" I think I said more but it was incoherent babbling.
Mr. United, "Oh. I see. Seattle. Your connecting flight is at 6:00."
Me and Ryan: "No! 6:00? We have to hang out in the airport all day?!"
Ryan to me: "Don't worry, we'll get an earlier flight when we get in San Francisco."
Mr. United doesn't give us any connecting flight information when Ryan asks for it because he says we will get it in San Francisco.
LIAR.
So we go through security and dump all of our waters even though they allowed us to keep one the day before "for the baby."
7 am comes and goes. All stores are closed. We are growing restless and hungry. The United employees tell us nothing. Our flight was supposed to leave at 7, maybe 7:30. 7:30 comes and goes and still we are waiting in the terminal. We are finally told the pilot is trying to secure food for us on our our less than 3 hour flight.
That nearly brought us to riot stage. Food?! Our flight was delayed another hour for food? It's a nice thought but we just wanted to get out of there.
At 8 am we finally board the plane and the pilot tells us that he thought he had secured food for us the night before by talking to corporate who apparently were less than helpful and really ticked the pilot off. So much so that he has the flight attendants hand out his business card with the CEO's information on it. I think I'm going to send the CEO a link to this post if he wants the full story.
We take off and land in San Francisco. Yipee.
The story is not over yet.
We go to the nearest United counter in hopes of catching an earlier flight. The United employee is very nice but says, "You don't have a connecting flight."
What?
Me to Ryan, "He lied to us! He was just trying to get us out of his hair! Why would he do that? Why? Why?"
Nice United woman looks for another United flight for us. They are all booked so I ask her to check other airlines because Alaska has flights like every hour. They are not only booked the whole rest of the day they are all oversold.
It was at this point I felt tears forming. I tried some self talk, "April, pull it together. Don't cry. Wait, cry! Don't fight it! Cry like there's no tomorrow."
Waterworks ensue with me babbling about my baby (who is crying in my arms), my cats and dog at home with no one to let them out or to feed them. She tells us we can try to fly standby.
If we try standby then our luggage goes to Seattle even if we don't. What do we do then if we don't get on a flight? Besides are we supposed to spend our WHOLE day in the airport in the hopes that we get a flight? I ask for her supervisor. She was very nice but supervisors can do just a little more.
She checked connecting flights and told us there were going to be some close calls and that we had a shot of getting on the 12:41 flight. So we did what any good Christian folk would do and prayed that some people would be a wee bit late for their connecting flight so we could get home since we were already a day late. We were put to the top of the list and we actually made it on that flight!
Now we are trying to go to the website United gave us so we can "select a token of our appreciation for your patience and understanding" (gag) and the site can not be found. Lame.
OK, that's enough for a rant on United. They did get us home safe and with all of our luggage so it could have been worse.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
IN
We are on vacation at an all inclusive resort. It's like a cruise but the alcohol is "free" and they don't try to sell you stuff every time you turn around and you are on land and there is less entertainment BUT the entertainment staff are just as annoying on a ship as on land.
An all inclusive resort is great for us because we don't have to think about anything and if we want a drink of anything other than water we don't have to have a cow over paying $10 for a silly foo-foo drink. However there are some people here who are determined to drink every pennies worth of their time here. Some people just do not appreciate their livers like they should.
The other half who are not liver lovers are skin haters. Why, oh why would you want to subject your skin to so much sun? Really. Do you think you look attractive 4 shades darker than your natural color? Do you not see the other people only 10 years older than you who have wrinkles and sun spots? Are you that dense?
I look around and see the Mexican people. They have lovely brown skin. They were born with it. Don't try to compete, white folk. Your pigment challenged selves are only hastening aging and skin cancer. Collective dumb asses. Dumb assi.
Then there are the people who embrace the drinking the excessive tanning AND the smoking. Well, they are going to have a ball when they have cirrhosis of the liver, skin cancer and lung cancer all while appearing 15 years older than they really are. But let's not forget that they are having fun right now.
Oh, I almost forgot about the food. Sure, it is all you can eat but you don't have to eat all you can. This one is the one that hits the closest to home for me although I have been really good.
I also have a cold and just lost my ability to taste food as of this morning. I've been eating lots of fruit in hopes of kicking this cold a little sooner than I would otherwise. So, having a cold on a vacation where food is every where isn't all bad. It really helps curb the appetite.
Gavin is having a blast. OK, not really. He is having as much fun here as he does at home. Well, he is getting more daddy time where I on the other hand are getting more time to myself. : )
He has been swimming three times now. Each time he seems to enjoy it more and more. We put him in his little swim diaper and green swimsuit that matches his green sunglasses and drop him in the pool. Just kidding. He hasn't cried once in the pool and lemme tell ya, he is oohed and ahhed over like no ones business. We can't go anywhere without drawing scads of attention because of his super duper cuteness. I believe the technical term is hyperacute cute syndrome. I believe the affliction lasts at least through toddler hood. If he is like his dad it will be a lifelong ailment only to be disturbed fashion trends in junior high and high school.
*****
I was going to add this to the bottom of my previous post but I ran out of time getting ready for vacation and laying the groundwork for the cold to take hold by not sleeping well....
So, after I wrote the last post about being a white girl and having maybe just a wee bit of hip hop I realized that while I was driving to a shopping center in West Seattle that, no, I am w-h-i-t-e.
This realization hit me as I was rockin' out to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Gimme Three Steps" in the car. I really like that song. Ryan, not so much. But then he doesn't seem to appreciate CCR, either. Sheesh. He doesn't like the Eagles or the Stones, either. Ugh. Unbelievable, I know!
Well, time to go tell Ryan that of the hour of Internet time I bought (not part of the all inclusive package) and the half hour I was supposed to use I used 57 minutes and counting. I'm thinking he is going to want to buy and hour for himself.
As for pictures of Gavin in the pool in all his cute glory - it will have to wait until we get home.
An all inclusive resort is great for us because we don't have to think about anything and if we want a drink of anything other than water we don't have to have a cow over paying $10 for a silly foo-foo drink. However there are some people here who are determined to drink every pennies worth of their time here. Some people just do not appreciate their livers like they should.
The other half who are not liver lovers are skin haters. Why, oh why would you want to subject your skin to so much sun? Really. Do you think you look attractive 4 shades darker than your natural color? Do you not see the other people only 10 years older than you who have wrinkles and sun spots? Are you that dense?
I look around and see the Mexican people. They have lovely brown skin. They were born with it. Don't try to compete, white folk. Your pigment challenged selves are only hastening aging and skin cancer. Collective dumb asses. Dumb assi.
Then there are the people who embrace the drinking the excessive tanning AND the smoking. Well, they are going to have a ball when they have cirrhosis of the liver, skin cancer and lung cancer all while appearing 15 years older than they really are. But let's not forget that they are having fun right now.
Oh, I almost forgot about the food. Sure, it is all you can eat but you don't have to eat all you can. This one is the one that hits the closest to home for me although I have been really good.
I also have a cold and just lost my ability to taste food as of this morning. I've been eating lots of fruit in hopes of kicking this cold a little sooner than I would otherwise. So, having a cold on a vacation where food is every where isn't all bad. It really helps curb the appetite.
Gavin is having a blast. OK, not really. He is having as much fun here as he does at home. Well, he is getting more daddy time where I on the other hand are getting more time to myself. : )
He has been swimming three times now. Each time he seems to enjoy it more and more. We put him in his little swim diaper and green swimsuit that matches his green sunglasses and drop him in the pool. Just kidding. He hasn't cried once in the pool and lemme tell ya, he is oohed and ahhed over like no ones business. We can't go anywhere without drawing scads of attention because of his super duper cuteness. I believe the technical term is hyperacute cute syndrome. I believe the affliction lasts at least through toddler hood. If he is like his dad it will be a lifelong ailment only to be disturbed fashion trends in junior high and high school.
*****
I was going to add this to the bottom of my previous post but I ran out of time getting ready for vacation and laying the groundwork for the cold to take hold by not sleeping well....
So, after I wrote the last post about being a white girl and having maybe just a wee bit of hip hop I realized that while I was driving to a shopping center in West Seattle that, no, I am w-h-i-t-e.
This realization hit me as I was rockin' out to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Gimme Three Steps" in the car. I really like that song. Ryan, not so much. But then he doesn't seem to appreciate CCR, either. Sheesh. He doesn't like the Eagles or the Stones, either. Ugh. Unbelievable, I know!
Well, time to go tell Ryan that of the hour of Internet time I bought (not part of the all inclusive package) and the half hour I was supposed to use I used 57 minutes and counting. I'm thinking he is going to want to buy and hour for himself.
As for pictures of Gavin in the pool in all his cute glory - it will have to wait until we get home.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Grill
After seeing an A-board (sandwich board) that advertised "Grill Special ask for details inside" almost every day as I drove past I thought I would inquire but not within. I'm still not brave enough to go into the store because I have no intention of buying anything. The clothing they sell isn't what I would call 'me' as I'm not so hip hop. Not even a wee little bit. Well, maybe a wee, wee little bit. I do like a song by Obie Trice, OB Trice, Ob Trice - I don't know how to spell his name. It's called "Snitch" and was a free download advertised after an episode of CSI that he appeared on. Not a great song lyrically, he basically says it ain't cool to be a snitch. You see something you pretend you don't or else...
Yo.
So, back to the grill. I saw the owner of the store - I recognized him from a neighborhood event last summer when I was enormously pregnant - in front of his store. The G and I were walking home from the grocery store so I seized my opportunity to talk the shop owner without having to go into his store to ask my silly question.
Me: "Hey. What's the grill special? The only grill I know is the teeth thing." (Me pointing at my teeth).
Shop keep man: "Yeah. We don't do the work but we do the moldings. Laugh, laugh, laugh. You want a grill?"
Me (Laughing hysterically): "No, thanks. (Continue laughing hysterically). Just curious."
Shop keep man to friend: "Wow. She cracked up!" Laugh.
I saw shop keep man yesterday as I was coming home and unloading the G and the car. He called from across the street, "When you coming in for the grill?"
I told him I was saving up for it.
Ha. A grill on a girl. A grill on a white girl. I'm 'bout white as they come. I dance like Elaine from Seinfeld and can't pull off slang. I can try out some slang.
Hmmm, I don't know any.
The most current slang I know is from just after high school. You know, digits and dis and that's about it. Oh, Gavin is going to be sooo embarrassed by me in a few years. And his dad.
We are going to have so much fun!
Yo.
So, back to the grill. I saw the owner of the store - I recognized him from a neighborhood event last summer when I was enormously pregnant - in front of his store. The G and I were walking home from the grocery store so I seized my opportunity to talk the shop owner without having to go into his store to ask my silly question.
Me: "Hey. What's the grill special? The only grill I know is the teeth thing." (Me pointing at my teeth).
Shop keep man: "Yeah. We don't do the work but we do the moldings. Laugh, laugh, laugh. You want a grill?"
Me (Laughing hysterically): "No, thanks. (Continue laughing hysterically). Just curious."
Shop keep man to friend: "Wow. She cracked up!" Laugh.
I saw shop keep man yesterday as I was coming home and unloading the G and the car. He called from across the street, "When you coming in for the grill?"
I told him I was saving up for it.
Ha. A grill on a girl. A grill on a white girl. I'm 'bout white as they come. I dance like Elaine from Seinfeld and can't pull off slang. I can try out some slang.
Hmmm, I don't know any.
The most current slang I know is from just after high school. You know, digits and dis and that's about it. Oh, Gavin is going to be sooo embarrassed by me in a few years. And his dad.
We are going to have so much fun!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Snow to Sun
It's almost April and it was snowing in Seattle today. It didn't stick but to a few blades of grass, though. I'm sure school children were disappointed but I was relieved. If the snow sticks then I'm stuck at home since we live on a huge hill and it would be foolish of me to try and drive in the snow with a baby in the car when I don't have to be anywhere in particular.
I have been going to the gym 4 days a week and I've been enjoying it. Gasp. It is shocking, I know. Today I set my bike's workout program to Kilimanjaro and put it at level 3 instead of 2. I think they need to rename the Kilimanjaro workout to Mt. St. Helen's (pretty easy since the top was blown off and you can practically drive to the top).
After I do my half hour on the bike I do 150 crunches. I'm going to have to do crunches for a long, long, long time before any muscle is able to be felt through my layers of mommy belly. At least I will know there is muscle under the flabbiness. There wouldn't be so much flabbiness if I would alter my diet a bit.
Oh how I like me some food. Chocolate and anything with cheese. Not together. No chocolate covered cheese sticks, please. A dinner of cheese sticks followed by a Black Forest milkshake from Burgerville would be heavenly. We don't have Burgerville in Seattle. It's a shame but it is really best for me if they aren't within in easy driving distance.
The Tillamook cheese burger, the black forest shake, the Walla Walla Sweet Onion rings are all so, so, delicious and all so, so bad.
I think I'm hungry. This breastfeeding is a double edged sword. It helps you burn calories quickly but it also makes you really hungry. I'm at equilibrium right now. I eat a lot and burn a lot of calories via breastfeeding and the gym.
Oh, I can eat dairy again! Sweet, sweet dairy. Yum, yum, yum.
I am really looking forward to eating vanilla ice cream in Mexico. And guacamole but that hasn't been forbidden - I'm just looking forward to it. That and a mojito and a lime margarita or two. Mas mojito, por favor. Mas guacamole, por favor. Mas ice creamo, por favor. I hope the resort has a gym so I we don't have to buy an extra seat for me on the way home.
Alright. I am going to go forage in the kitchen for something to eat. There's no Tillamook cheese or black forest shake fixins in the house so I may just have an apple.
I have been going to the gym 4 days a week and I've been enjoying it. Gasp. It is shocking, I know. Today I set my bike's workout program to Kilimanjaro and put it at level 3 instead of 2. I think they need to rename the Kilimanjaro workout to Mt. St. Helen's (pretty easy since the top was blown off and you can practically drive to the top).
After I do my half hour on the bike I do 150 crunches. I'm going to have to do crunches for a long, long, long time before any muscle is able to be felt through my layers of mommy belly. At least I will know there is muscle under the flabbiness. There wouldn't be so much flabbiness if I would alter my diet a bit.
Oh how I like me some food. Chocolate and anything with cheese. Not together. No chocolate covered cheese sticks, please. A dinner of cheese sticks followed by a Black Forest milkshake from Burgerville would be heavenly. We don't have Burgerville in Seattle. It's a shame but it is really best for me if they aren't within in easy driving distance.
The Tillamook cheese burger, the black forest shake, the Walla Walla Sweet Onion rings are all so, so, delicious and all so, so bad.
I think I'm hungry. This breastfeeding is a double edged sword. It helps you burn calories quickly but it also makes you really hungry. I'm at equilibrium right now. I eat a lot and burn a lot of calories via breastfeeding and the gym.
Oh, I can eat dairy again! Sweet, sweet dairy. Yum, yum, yum.
I am really looking forward to eating vanilla ice cream in Mexico. And guacamole but that hasn't been forbidden - I'm just looking forward to it. That and a mojito and a lime margarita or two. Mas mojito, por favor. Mas guacamole, por favor. Mas ice creamo, por favor. I hope the resort has a gym so I we don't have to buy an extra seat for me on the way home.
Alright. I am going to go forage in the kitchen for something to eat. There's no Tillamook cheese or black forest shake fixins in the house so I may just have an apple.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Bye Bye Swing
Last night was Gavin's last night in the swing. Ryan noticed he was listing in the cradle this morning; he tries to sit up then kind of flops over to the side. I'm afraid he will pitch out of it even though he's strapped in. I was kind of afraid of what this evening held for bedtime since he would have to go down in his pack 'n play - a large flat immobile surface without lights or music. At first he smiled and 'talked' in the pack 'n play and kicked his feet and squirmed from side to side but once we turned out the lights he fussed for a few minutes then he fell right to sleep.
Next we will have to buy a crib but I'm not ready for him to sleep in his room. I really like having him with us in our room. So the pack 'n play will have to work for now.
There was another first tonight. Rice cereal! Woo-hoo! I called his doctor to ask if he could start solids because he quit sleeping through the night. At first I thought he was waking up because of the teething but I don't think that's the case since he wakes up, eats and goes right back to sleep without any fuss. Well, that's not completely true. As I lay him down he lets out one half hearted cry but as soon as his body hit the contoured shape of the swings cradle it was lights out.
So the doc said rice cereal and applesauce, nothing else. I had to run to Rite Aid to buy new nipples for the bottles because we only have the slow flow nipples that certainly wouldn't allow rice through. Oh, I just realized we should have moved up in nipple flow size when he turned three months old. Oops.
When I was standing in the baby aisle staring at the bottle and nipples I realized I didn't know which one to buy and which brand would be compatible with our bottles so I called Crina as Alexandra is a couple of months older than Gavin and she would know which one I should buy. Crina wasn't home. I bought the fast flow bottle with the cross cut instead of hole.
After preparing the bottle with the rice I gave it to Gavin. Man, was he ever squirmy and demanding with the bottle. Sheesh! I've never seen him chew on the nipple like that before. Normally he just guzzles the milk.
A couple of minutes went by before I put the bottle right side up and saw that he hadn't swallowed even a drop. The crosscut nipple didn't wasn't big enough for the rice/milk mixture to go through. Thank God for sippy cups. I went and fished out a sippy cup from the bin of future eating utensils for Gavin and he got his first rice cereal and his first sippy cup on the same night.
Now he just needs to sleep until 7:40 am since he went to bed at 9:40 pm. Please, please, please let him sleep until morning. Please.
Next we will have to buy a crib but I'm not ready for him to sleep in his room. I really like having him with us in our room. So the pack 'n play will have to work for now.
There was another first tonight. Rice cereal! Woo-hoo! I called his doctor to ask if he could start solids because he quit sleeping through the night. At first I thought he was waking up because of the teething but I don't think that's the case since he wakes up, eats and goes right back to sleep without any fuss. Well, that's not completely true. As I lay him down he lets out one half hearted cry but as soon as his body hit the contoured shape of the swings cradle it was lights out.
So the doc said rice cereal and applesauce, nothing else. I had to run to Rite Aid to buy new nipples for the bottles because we only have the slow flow nipples that certainly wouldn't allow rice through. Oh, I just realized we should have moved up in nipple flow size when he turned three months old. Oops.
When I was standing in the baby aisle staring at the bottle and nipples I realized I didn't know which one to buy and which brand would be compatible with our bottles so I called Crina as Alexandra is a couple of months older than Gavin and she would know which one I should buy. Crina wasn't home. I bought the fast flow bottle with the cross cut instead of hole.
After preparing the bottle with the rice I gave it to Gavin. Man, was he ever squirmy and demanding with the bottle. Sheesh! I've never seen him chew on the nipple like that before. Normally he just guzzles the milk.
A couple of minutes went by before I put the bottle right side up and saw that he hadn't swallowed even a drop. The crosscut nipple didn't wasn't big enough for the rice/milk mixture to go through. Thank God for sippy cups. I went and fished out a sippy cup from the bin of future eating utensils for Gavin and he got his first rice cereal and his first sippy cup on the same night.
Now he just needs to sleep until 7:40 am since he went to bed at 9:40 pm. Please, please, please let him sleep until morning. Please.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Scary
Quick story.
Yesterday I was playing with Gavin in his exersaucer. I played with the attached toys with his hands hoping that he would start to play with them on his own because right now he will only play with his Sassy rattles that I put directly in front of him. He is only content to be in the exersaucer for 15 minutes before he melts down.
After showing him how to play with the toys and leaving him with his rattles I took the few remaining minutes I had to go and make myself some lunch.
I washed and sliced a Pink Lady apple (yum) and sliced some Parmesan cheese to go with the apple (double yum) when I heard the sound of one of the attached toys! It was the round clear plastic tumbler with colorful beads in it. Baby spins the tumbler and it makes one heck of a noise.
I was so excited to know that Gavin turned it with his hands all on his own whether or not it was intentional but the sound of the tumbling beads was immediately followed by a scream and cry.
Super Mom flew into action and ran into the living room to see what was the matter.
Nothing was the matter.
The sound of the beads scared the living daylights out of him. It was the saddest, cutest thing you could see. Fat tears were welling up in his big beautiful blue eyes then cascading down his equally fat cheeks. He raised his arms slightly when I came over for me to pick him up. It was so precious.
That's all. It was cute. He made a toy make noise then freaked out because it made noise.
Oh. I almost forgot! Gavin rolled over today. I almost missed it, too. He was laying on the floor squirming like babies do and next thing you know he pushed himself up and was suddenly on his back. I need to go put that in the baby book before I forget.
Yesterday I was playing with Gavin in his exersaucer. I played with the attached toys with his hands hoping that he would start to play with them on his own because right now he will only play with his Sassy rattles that I put directly in front of him. He is only content to be in the exersaucer for 15 minutes before he melts down.
After showing him how to play with the toys and leaving him with his rattles I took the few remaining minutes I had to go and make myself some lunch.
I washed and sliced a Pink Lady apple (yum) and sliced some Parmesan cheese to go with the apple (double yum) when I heard the sound of one of the attached toys! It was the round clear plastic tumbler with colorful beads in it. Baby spins the tumbler and it makes one heck of a noise.
I was so excited to know that Gavin turned it with his hands all on his own whether or not it was intentional but the sound of the tumbling beads was immediately followed by a scream and cry.
Super Mom flew into action and ran into the living room to see what was the matter.
Nothing was the matter.
The sound of the beads scared the living daylights out of him. It was the saddest, cutest thing you could see. Fat tears were welling up in his big beautiful blue eyes then cascading down his equally fat cheeks. He raised his arms slightly when I came over for me to pick him up. It was so precious.
That's all. It was cute. He made a toy make noise then freaked out because it made noise.
Oh. I almost forgot! Gavin rolled over today. I almost missed it, too. He was laying on the floor squirming like babies do and next thing you know he pushed himself up and was suddenly on his back. I need to go put that in the baby book before I forget.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Teeth and Feet
Gavin's teeth, my feet.
Gavin has not one, not two but three teeth coming in! His two bottom teeth and one of his upper front teeth. This is naturally making for a grumpy baby with copious amounts of drool. I thought he drooled a lot before but now it is non-stop. There is a drool spigot that is left on - you could probably wring out his bib.
Despite teething and being grumpy for large parts of the day and waking up every 3 or so hours at night he still manages to give some pretty cute smiles and near laughs throughout the day. We've only heard him give a really good belly laugh a few times. We try to get him on video laughing but the second the camera comes out he quits his cute behavior and stares intently at the camera.
Well, I'll have to continue this later. I hear him waking up. He's going to be a hungry boy...
I'm back.
I had bible study tonight with my girls and we actually did our study, too. This week we were discussing reconciliation from chapter 8 from the study, Revival: ... I don't remember the rest of the title. We talked and talked and talked some more; it is what we do best. I don't know what I would do without my girlfriends to talk to every week. I would explode from the build up of words trying to escape my mouth.
So, to make this post even choppier I'm going to dive right into the foot topic.
I think I posted earlier about my feet. It all started because a friend wanted me and another friend to run a half marathon in September. I pushed the decision on to my friend who hates exercise even more than me. When she actually sounded interested I realized I had to do something, anything and fast.
In all seriousness my feet have bothered me for years. I didn't think there was anything seriously wrong with them other than maybe they had a touch of arthritis or something.
The or something turned out to be bunions. I used to think a bunion was a gross old lady growth like a wart or something. Wrong. It is when your foot changes shape because of a loose joint. The big toe drifts out of place and causes pain at various points on the foot.
Mr. Podiatrist x-rayed my foot and said the bunion is moderate to significant and there are a couple ways of fixing it. Orthotics - think old lady/grandma shoes, steroids for inflammation and injections in the toe of cortisone - something like that, or surgery for a permanent fix.
I'm 31 years old. I will NOT wear orthotics. As is I can't wear heels without great, great pain. If I have surgery I will be able to wear heels out to dinner.
Oh, happy day! And I will be able to walk up a hill without pain.
So I've opted to have the bunion fixed surgically. They take out a joint in the foot and fuse the bone and other joint together and the fix is 95% effective. While they are monkeying around in my foot they are going to repair a torn tendon in my ankle, too.
Here's the catch: the recovery time is 6 weeks. Maybe 8 with the additional repair of the ankle.
Here's the added wrinkle: I have a baby who depends on me.
Another dilemma: I will not be able to put any more weight on the affected side than just to tap the floor with my toes.
'Nother problemo: Stairs. I will not be able to leave the house because I would not be able to carry Gavin in his car seat (or not in his car seat for that matter) down the stairs on crutches.
Solution? Mother-in-law. Maybe. I hope. She doesn't know about any of this yet. I am hoping I can go stay with her for the first 2 weeks after surgery because I will be pretty much bed bound for the first two weeks.
The second two weeks I will be able to get around the house but will still be confined to staying inside as I will be unable to get Gavin in and out of the house.
Silver lining on the cloud: help. I can justify hiring someone to help with household chores for 2 solid months. Woo-hoo!!!
Speaking of hiring help, I am so tempted to hire a professional organizer. I know one person who does it and she would be a dream. It would be so nice to just give everything a place and set up systems so those things would stay in their place. Ryan and I are pretty good about sticking with a system but are not so good at implementing the systems.
This organizing feels like something we need to do before Gavin gets any older and acquires more stuff.
And about stuff, how do we teach him to not value 'stuff' when we ourselves have so much of it? His nanas and grandpas, aunts and uncles and our friends are all going to want to buy him stuff. We don't want more stuff, we don't need more stuff. I was thinking about birthday parties and holidays. Is it too extreme to do no gift birthday parties? Or request that if people insist of a gift that it be a book or clothes or a donation to his college fund or a donation to charity? Grandparents are going to shower him with toys that it will be overkill for everyone else to do the same.
Argh. We will be so unpopular. Oh, well.
Gavin has not one, not two but three teeth coming in! His two bottom teeth and one of his upper front teeth. This is naturally making for a grumpy baby with copious amounts of drool. I thought he drooled a lot before but now it is non-stop. There is a drool spigot that is left on - you could probably wring out his bib.
Despite teething and being grumpy for large parts of the day and waking up every 3 or so hours at night he still manages to give some pretty cute smiles and near laughs throughout the day. We've only heard him give a really good belly laugh a few times. We try to get him on video laughing but the second the camera comes out he quits his cute behavior and stares intently at the camera.
Well, I'll have to continue this later. I hear him waking up. He's going to be a hungry boy...
I'm back.
I had bible study tonight with my girls and we actually did our study, too. This week we were discussing reconciliation from chapter 8 from the study, Revival: ... I don't remember the rest of the title. We talked and talked and talked some more; it is what we do best. I don't know what I would do without my girlfriends to talk to every week. I would explode from the build up of words trying to escape my mouth.
So, to make this post even choppier I'm going to dive right into the foot topic.
I think I posted earlier about my feet. It all started because a friend wanted me and another friend to run a half marathon in September. I pushed the decision on to my friend who hates exercise even more than me. When she actually sounded interested I realized I had to do something, anything and fast.
In all seriousness my feet have bothered me for years. I didn't think there was anything seriously wrong with them other than maybe they had a touch of arthritis or something.
The or something turned out to be bunions. I used to think a bunion was a gross old lady growth like a wart or something. Wrong. It is when your foot changes shape because of a loose joint. The big toe drifts out of place and causes pain at various points on the foot.
Mr. Podiatrist x-rayed my foot and said the bunion is moderate to significant and there are a couple ways of fixing it. Orthotics - think old lady/grandma shoes, steroids for inflammation and injections in the toe of cortisone - something like that, or surgery for a permanent fix.
I'm 31 years old. I will NOT wear orthotics. As is I can't wear heels without great, great pain. If I have surgery I will be able to wear heels out to dinner.
Oh, happy day! And I will be able to walk up a hill without pain.
So I've opted to have the bunion fixed surgically. They take out a joint in the foot and fuse the bone and other joint together and the fix is 95% effective. While they are monkeying around in my foot they are going to repair a torn tendon in my ankle, too.
Here's the catch: the recovery time is 6 weeks. Maybe 8 with the additional repair of the ankle.
Here's the added wrinkle: I have a baby who depends on me.
Another dilemma: I will not be able to put any more weight on the affected side than just to tap the floor with my toes.
'Nother problemo: Stairs. I will not be able to leave the house because I would not be able to carry Gavin in his car seat (or not in his car seat for that matter) down the stairs on crutches.
Solution? Mother-in-law. Maybe. I hope. She doesn't know about any of this yet. I am hoping I can go stay with her for the first 2 weeks after surgery because I will be pretty much bed bound for the first two weeks.
The second two weeks I will be able to get around the house but will still be confined to staying inside as I will be unable to get Gavin in and out of the house.
Silver lining on the cloud: help. I can justify hiring someone to help with household chores for 2 solid months. Woo-hoo!!!
Speaking of hiring help, I am so tempted to hire a professional organizer. I know one person who does it and she would be a dream. It would be so nice to just give everything a place and set up systems so those things would stay in their place. Ryan and I are pretty good about sticking with a system but are not so good at implementing the systems.
This organizing feels like something we need to do before Gavin gets any older and acquires more stuff.
And about stuff, how do we teach him to not value 'stuff' when we ourselves have so much of it? His nanas and grandpas, aunts and uncles and our friends are all going to want to buy him stuff. We don't want more stuff, we don't need more stuff. I was thinking about birthday parties and holidays. Is it too extreme to do no gift birthday parties? Or request that if people insist of a gift that it be a book or clothes or a donation to his college fund or a donation to charity? Grandparents are going to shower him with toys that it will be overkill for everyone else to do the same.
Argh. We will be so unpopular. Oh, well.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Erupting
It's not big enough to take a picture of otherwise I would but... Gavin's first tooth is popping up! Woo-hoo. I only knew it was there because I felt it when he was chewing on my finger. It is his bottom right little tooth. He's only 4.5 months so it is a little on the early side for him to be sprouting teeth but it's going to be so cute!
This new addition to his gum line is probably the reason he quit sleeping through the night. Poor little guy - it hurts. I remember how uncomfortable it was when my wisdom teeth tried to push their way up through my gums (I say tried because as soon as they started I went and had them pulled). I didn't find the process painful; everyone told me it was going to be super painful. Of course I did have vicodin to take for the pain which I did take the first day and a half; after that I realized I was taking it pre-emptively and maybe I should stop and see if I actually needed it. Nope. It wasn't so bad.
I sure was loopy, though with the sedatives. I remember the nurse asking me to count to 10 as she gave me the medicine. I think I made it to 3 before everything went black. After what felt like the best rest of my life a strange woman (the nurse) was looming over me all fuzzy like telling me to wake up. Through my slitted eyes I saw her and my mom, also very fuzzy looking and my friend Matt. I didn't care who was in the room. I wanted to go back to sleep. So I just shut my eyes again but that darn nurse wanted me to leave!
At this point I knew I was heavily sedated and wanted to know if there was an elevator we could take down to the parking lot since I knew there was no way I would be able to make it down the stairs that I used to come up to the office earlier in the morning.
I clearly asked the nurse, "Is there an elevator?" What everyone around me heard was, "Ish air vadr?" I could not understand the bland looks I was getting from everyone because I was articulating my words so very clearly. Realizing they were all dense and couldn't understand the spoken word I took to sign language and spelled out elevator - no one knew sign language so I can't confirm I actually spelled the words correctly or not.
Realizing they didn't know ASL (I only know the ABC's) I started gesturing with my hands to show doors opening and closing. I guess Matt figured out what I was asking and told me that we were going to fly down to the parking lot. I don't recall if I glared at him or not.
Getting outside was a blur but the next thing I remember is facing a seemingly insurmountable obstacle: the curb. Standing tall at 8 feet, or so it felt, the curb looked really, really far down there. My mom and Matt each took a side so I could step down. Whew. That was scary.
When we got home mom fed me my pain pills with some milkshake. My face was numb, almost as numb as my brain. I couldn't manage the spoon so mom put the pill on top of the ice cream on the spoon and put it in my mouth. Then she did something that I find HILARIOUS!
When I drooled some of the ice cream on my chin she scooped it up with the next spoonful of ice cream and put it in my mouth. I guess I will always be her baby.
Speaking of mom, she and dad are coming up tomorrow for a brief visit. I am excited to see them and really excited that they can hold Gavin and entertain him so I can fold the 4 baskets, hamper and dryer full of clean clothes. Good times.
This new addition to his gum line is probably the reason he quit sleeping through the night. Poor little guy - it hurts. I remember how uncomfortable it was when my wisdom teeth tried to push their way up through my gums (I say tried because as soon as they started I went and had them pulled). I didn't find the process painful; everyone told me it was going to be super painful. Of course I did have vicodin to take for the pain which I did take the first day and a half; after that I realized I was taking it pre-emptively and maybe I should stop and see if I actually needed it. Nope. It wasn't so bad.
I sure was loopy, though with the sedatives. I remember the nurse asking me to count to 10 as she gave me the medicine. I think I made it to 3 before everything went black. After what felt like the best rest of my life a strange woman (the nurse) was looming over me all fuzzy like telling me to wake up. Through my slitted eyes I saw her and my mom, also very fuzzy looking and my friend Matt. I didn't care who was in the room. I wanted to go back to sleep. So I just shut my eyes again but that darn nurse wanted me to leave!
At this point I knew I was heavily sedated and wanted to know if there was an elevator we could take down to the parking lot since I knew there was no way I would be able to make it down the stairs that I used to come up to the office earlier in the morning.
I clearly asked the nurse, "Is there an elevator?" What everyone around me heard was, "Ish air vadr?" I could not understand the bland looks I was getting from everyone because I was articulating my words so very clearly. Realizing they were all dense and couldn't understand the spoken word I took to sign language and spelled out elevator - no one knew sign language so I can't confirm I actually spelled the words correctly or not.
Realizing they didn't know ASL (I only know the ABC's) I started gesturing with my hands to show doors opening and closing. I guess Matt figured out what I was asking and told me that we were going to fly down to the parking lot. I don't recall if I glared at him or not.
Getting outside was a blur but the next thing I remember is facing a seemingly insurmountable obstacle: the curb. Standing tall at 8 feet, or so it felt, the curb looked really, really far down there. My mom and Matt each took a side so I could step down. Whew. That was scary.
When we got home mom fed me my pain pills with some milkshake. My face was numb, almost as numb as my brain. I couldn't manage the spoon so mom put the pill on top of the ice cream on the spoon and put it in my mouth. Then she did something that I find HILARIOUS!
When I drooled some of the ice cream on my chin she scooped it up with the next spoonful of ice cream and put it in my mouth. I guess I will always be her baby.
Speaking of mom, she and dad are coming up tomorrow for a brief visit. I am excited to see them and really excited that they can hold Gavin and entertain him so I can fold the 4 baskets, hamper and dryer full of clean clothes. Good times.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Found
Gavin 'found his voice' a couple of weeks ago. He started babbling and sputtering. It melts my heart. Within the last few days Gavin found that in addition to making sounds he can regulate the volume with which he expresses himself verbally. It pierces my ears.
Ladies and Gentlemen, we have here a screamer. Screaming is a fun activity that can tell Mom and Dad, "I'm having a blast!" or, "Wow! My hands are fun to suck on!" or, "Wow! I have a cute Buddha belly!". Screaming also indicates, "I'm hungry." "Didn't I tell you I was hungry two seconds ago? Feed me! Feed me NOW." "I'm tired and not happy about it!"
He and Ryan are sleeping right now; I should go to bed now before it gets too late since Gavin has taken to not sleeping through the night again. It's no where near as bad as it was before we had our two weeks of 10 hours of sleep from the tyke. Now he 'only' wakes up somewhere between 2:30 and 4:30 and then again between 6:30 and 7:00. Fortunately he still likes to go back to sleep after eating but he does like to scream really, really loud before he succumbs to the sandman. I had no idea babies scream so much. It is insane!
By the way, a couple of weeks ago I posted about what I thought was a grammatically incorrect question on a Barnes and Noble book display that read, "Whom would you have coffee with?" I asked my friend Tyler who is a technical writer if that statement/question was indeed wrong. It is not incorrect although he did say grammar snobs (my words) would not choose to word it that way. So I'm a grammar snob who is very guilty of poor grammar herself. Would that make me a grammatical hypocrite or guilty of grammar hypocrisy?
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Broken
My TiVo remote is broken. Ryan disagrees. He thinks it needs new batteries and I think he's wrong. The remote worked fine for well over a year on one set of batteries that we changed out last month when the remote started acting up. Here it is one month later and the remote only works at random which kind of sucks when you try fast-forwarding through commercials and it just keeps fast forwarding long after you hit the play button. Of course I don't just press the play button once or twice I jab it over and over with my thumb each time with a little more force. After many attempts the next logical step is to hold the remote at a different angle, then stand up and move closer to the TiVo box.
Nothing worked.
I just wanted to veg and watch a little TV before I went to bed. I could watch TV live but I don't want to watch just any show that is playing, besides what is playing on a Saturday night that is any good? My real beef is that I would have to endure commercials. Lame-o.
Hm, I'm feeling a tad grumpy so I think I will take this time to vent about some stuff that in the grand scheme of things are really not that important.
A person who buys a TiVo, or any brand of DVR, usually does so because they want to skip commercials. They don't care about the products being pushed. Of course ad agencies and the companies selling their products get concerned that they are spending big bucks to promote their product during a TV show that we would otherwise die without and we the viewer/consumer are just going to see the commercial in a blur as we fast forward past it.
What is their solution? To put advertisements in the TV show folders (kind of like on your computer - if you watch "Lost" and have more than one episode recorded it will have a folder labeled "Lost" and when you go into the folder each episode is labeled and at the end of the list of the episodes will be a star and an invitation to view a cool new product).
TiVo is not a free service. We pay for it. We pay to not watch commercials. Then TiVo, while charging us for its service to have this great technology where we can skip commercials, allows advertisers to sneak their propaganda in anyway. Sure, we don't have to open the advertisement but it is still annoying - like pop up ads on the Internet.
So, if you happen to watch a commercial that is advertising another show you will often see a green thumbs up picture in the corner of the screen that says, "Push (thumbs up picture) to record". Nothing will make that thumbs up picture go away, not even pushing the thumbs down button.
Then, the last in my little list of rants, is the ever irksome pop ups that spring to life at the bottom, or top or side of your screen while you are watching a show. We all encounter the pop ups. I hate the pop ups. They are distracting and if they are big enough they can obscure subtitles at the bottom of the screen.
See, none of the annoyances are life shattering.
Ryan needs to fix the smoke detector in the downstairs bedroom. It keeps chirping. It may need new batteries but I don't know where the batteries are. Besides, I'm afraid if I try to put in new batteries I will set the alarm off and wake up Gavin. I'll just have to live with the incessant chirping until I go to bed and hopefully the sound of the fan will drown out the sound.
Know what else is annoying? Animal fur. Seriously. Do they have to shed so much fur all the time?
We have two cats, Gwen and Bob. Gwen is a beautiful white cat; a beautiful fat white cat with long fur. Bob, Gwen's sister, is a tortoise shell calico with even longer fur than Gwen. Then we have Kea, the yellow lab. She deposits lots and lots of short yellow fur and the fur from her soft white fuzzy undercoat.
I sweep the floors every couple of days and collect enough fur to knit a small sweater. OK, I've never knit a sweater, small or otherwise, but it looks like it would be a sufficient amount. Heaven forbid I neglect to sweep midweek for if that happens we have tumbleweeds of fur floating about the house. It is too much.
One day our pets will die; hopefully not all on one day - that would be very, very sad. We figure Kea will go when Gavin is between 7 and 10 years old and the cats will be a few years behind the dog although Gwen is such a lard bucket that she could go when ever. Anyway, after the pets die and teach Gavin about life and death, he and his siblings will eventually want more pets. They can have more pets but they can not have a long haired cat! They can not have a dog that sheds!
I'm very tempted to shave the cats. Very. Our local PetCo doesn't do cat grooming so I need to find someone who does and take the cats in for a good trimming. I don't want to make them bald. OK, I want to make them bald, save their head and tail, but I won't go all the way to skin. We won't bic the cats.
I just heard a car door; Ryan must be home. He is not going to like the state of the TiVo remote since he is going to want to watch TV after a grueling game of soccer.
Turns out he is also annoyed by the smoke detector. Also a little annoyed at me since I didn't do anything to the smoke detector and that I didn't try new batteries in the remote.
Eh.
Nothing worked.
I just wanted to veg and watch a little TV before I went to bed. I could watch TV live but I don't want to watch just any show that is playing, besides what is playing on a Saturday night that is any good? My real beef is that I would have to endure commercials. Lame-o.
Hm, I'm feeling a tad grumpy so I think I will take this time to vent about some stuff that in the grand scheme of things are really not that important.
A person who buys a TiVo, or any brand of DVR, usually does so because they want to skip commercials. They don't care about the products being pushed. Of course ad agencies and the companies selling their products get concerned that they are spending big bucks to promote their product during a TV show that we would otherwise die without and we the viewer/consumer are just going to see the commercial in a blur as we fast forward past it.
What is their solution? To put advertisements in the TV show folders (kind of like on your computer - if you watch "Lost" and have more than one episode recorded it will have a folder labeled "Lost" and when you go into the folder each episode is labeled and at the end of the list of the episodes will be a star and an invitation to view a cool new product).
TiVo is not a free service. We pay for it. We pay to not watch commercials. Then TiVo, while charging us for its service to have this great technology where we can skip commercials, allows advertisers to sneak their propaganda in anyway. Sure, we don't have to open the advertisement but it is still annoying - like pop up ads on the Internet.
So, if you happen to watch a commercial that is advertising another show you will often see a green thumbs up picture in the corner of the screen that says, "Push (thumbs up picture) to record". Nothing will make that thumbs up picture go away, not even pushing the thumbs down button.
Then, the last in my little list of rants, is the ever irksome pop ups that spring to life at the bottom, or top or side of your screen while you are watching a show. We all encounter the pop ups. I hate the pop ups. They are distracting and if they are big enough they can obscure subtitles at the bottom of the screen.
See, none of the annoyances are life shattering.
Ryan needs to fix the smoke detector in the downstairs bedroom. It keeps chirping. It may need new batteries but I don't know where the batteries are. Besides, I'm afraid if I try to put in new batteries I will set the alarm off and wake up Gavin. I'll just have to live with the incessant chirping until I go to bed and hopefully the sound of the fan will drown out the sound.
Know what else is annoying? Animal fur. Seriously. Do they have to shed so much fur all the time?
We have two cats, Gwen and Bob. Gwen is a beautiful white cat; a beautiful fat white cat with long fur. Bob, Gwen's sister, is a tortoise shell calico with even longer fur than Gwen. Then we have Kea, the yellow lab. She deposits lots and lots of short yellow fur and the fur from her soft white fuzzy undercoat.
I sweep the floors every couple of days and collect enough fur to knit a small sweater. OK, I've never knit a sweater, small or otherwise, but it looks like it would be a sufficient amount. Heaven forbid I neglect to sweep midweek for if that happens we have tumbleweeds of fur floating about the house. It is too much.
One day our pets will die; hopefully not all on one day - that would be very, very sad. We figure Kea will go when Gavin is between 7 and 10 years old and the cats will be a few years behind the dog although Gwen is such a lard bucket that she could go when ever. Anyway, after the pets die and teach Gavin about life and death, he and his siblings will eventually want more pets. They can have more pets but they can not have a long haired cat! They can not have a dog that sheds!
I'm very tempted to shave the cats. Very. Our local PetCo doesn't do cat grooming so I need to find someone who does and take the cats in for a good trimming. I don't want to make them bald. OK, I want to make them bald, save their head and tail, but I won't go all the way to skin. We won't bic the cats.
I just heard a car door; Ryan must be home. He is not going to like the state of the TiVo remote since he is going to want to watch TV after a grueling game of soccer.
Turns out he is also annoyed by the smoke detector. Also a little annoyed at me since I didn't do anything to the smoke detector and that I didn't try new batteries in the remote.
Eh.
Monday, February 25, 2008
10 days and counting
It is 9:31 and Gavin is asleep. Ryan is upstairs watching the boob tube and I'm down here writing this. I originally came downstairs to throw wash a load of diapers and to dredge up a recipe for lemon liqueur. But to do the laundry I have to walk by the office with the computer. I can't just leave after starting the laundry. I have to check my e-mail; then Facebook, then of course see if anyone left a comment on my blog.
Some friends had us over for dinner the other night. Their house was so incredibly clean even in the midst of their remodel that it made Ryan and I realize that we are just messy, messy people. We always have an excuse. First it was the remodel of the kitchen. Then it was the remodel of the basement. Now it is the baby. Actually, the house is cleaner now that we have Gavin than when we didn't have him. The mess we have now is usually baskets of clean laundry in the living room along with the exersaucer, bouncy chair, car seat, basket of diapers and wipes and my breast feeding pillow.
I am holding out hope that the house will soon be clean. Well, it is clean if we are talking about germs. I do clean and dust and wash up. We are not so good with being tidy or getting rid of stuff we don't use/need/want. Since we brought all of our stuff back from storage we have purged a car load of stuff. I even convinced Ryan to get rid of the fake ivy that he had in the kitchen at the old house. A lesser wife would have tossed it when he wasn't looking. I was very tempted to be a lesser wife.
The other day I went through one of the many boxes that I have to go through and found all of our framed pictures and realized I don't really like all of the frames and the pictures are old. I'm going to take all of the pictures out and get rid of the frames. One box down a million boxes to go.
When am I going to find time to go through all of the boxes you ask? Well, how about in the evenings when Gavin is asleep? Yep. The little cutie patootie has decided he should sleep through the night. We are on day 10 of sleeping through the night!
Rest is amazing! It does a body good - and a disposition. Each day as I climb out of my sleep deficit I am less and less grouchy. I am not looking for a fight, not thinking disparaging thoughts of the dolt who cut me off (well, maybe disparaging but not vengeful). Hallelujah!
Back to the dinner with the friends. After dinner we sat around the living room chatting, playing with our uber cute baby and one of the friends piped up and said she didn't get blogging. It was lame. She didn't say it was lame but it was not at all an unrealistic conclusion to draw from her statements about it as they were coupled with her sour-ish facial expressions. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ryan motioning with his hand across his neck like, "stop" then he pointed at me and made some typing motions. I thought it was funny.
What I thought was even funnier is when she said she could understand blogging because we have a baby. They have friends who have blogs who post pictures of their babies. I could have let it go but I was having fun. I told her I had the blog long before Gavin was born but I didn't tell her that I don't post pictures all that frequently. (You will just have to deal with my lack of picture posting, people).
I don't expect everyone to enjoy blogging nor do I expect everyone to enjoy reading another's blog but how anyone could not enjoy reading mine is beyond me. Ask my husband, he might know. He doesn’t read it (boo). To be fair he knows everything I write about so to him it would be torture to read about something he experienced already or I told him about since he can't stand to hear a story more than once.
That makes me curious about something. How is it that he can not remember a book he read or movie he saw, or some of our dates (or which date he took to which restaurant -that's always fun) but he can remember every story I ever told him?
What's not entertaining about crying babies, infected boobs, homeless people ringing your door bell in the middle of the night and dirty diapers? C'mon! It doesn't get any better than this. Well, I think Swell & Sheepie's blog is the best. (See the link on my home page).
Tomorrow is going to be a fun day. First I go see Dr. Fiala - the best doctor in all of West Seattle. Aw, shucks, the best in all of Seattle. She really is great. My feet have been bothering me for a long time. Since before I was pregnant. But then when I was pregnant a lot of the foot stuff seemed pretty well linked to the weight gain and ever fun water retention.
I'm not going to go into a lot of detail about the feet because it is a boring subject. The reason I bring it up is because the outcome of the visit may be my undoing.
Last week I went to a new restaurant called Shadow Lands in West Seattle with Heidi and Krissy. Heidi is crazy. She is crazy because she runs. Last year she ran the New York marathon. Now she "just" runs half marathons. She looked at Krissy and me and said, "You have time to train for the half marathon in September."
Krissy and my response, "Ha! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha *gasp* ha ha ha ha ha"!
Heidi is not one to give up so easily so I said, "I will if Krissy does." I said that knowing full well Krissy would never in a million years say yes. Krissy is the one person I know who hates exercise more than me.
What do I know? Krissy's 30th birthday is right around the time of the half marathon and she think that it might be a neat thing to do.
Gyar!
Since Krissy caught me off guard I had to think of something fast! "My knees are bad", I said. "My feet have been hurting me", I offered up weakly. So, I'm off to see the doctor about my feet to see what's up with them and to see if running is a safe exercise for me or not.
Having said all of that about exercise and hating it I am trying to convince Ryan we should join the gym. I could pick him up after work and we would plop the G with the gym's babysitter and we could go exercise. And during the day if I needed a break I could go to the gym and swim or hang out in the sauna. I think he likes the idea because he hates the bus he takes to work since it is really crowded and smelly.
Some friends had us over for dinner the other night. Their house was so incredibly clean even in the midst of their remodel that it made Ryan and I realize that we are just messy, messy people. We always have an excuse. First it was the remodel of the kitchen. Then it was the remodel of the basement. Now it is the baby. Actually, the house is cleaner now that we have Gavin than when we didn't have him. The mess we have now is usually baskets of clean laundry in the living room along with the exersaucer, bouncy chair, car seat, basket of diapers and wipes and my breast feeding pillow.
I am holding out hope that the house will soon be clean. Well, it is clean if we are talking about germs. I do clean and dust and wash up. We are not so good with being tidy or getting rid of stuff we don't use/need/want. Since we brought all of our stuff back from storage we have purged a car load of stuff. I even convinced Ryan to get rid of the fake ivy that he had in the kitchen at the old house. A lesser wife would have tossed it when he wasn't looking. I was very tempted to be a lesser wife.
The other day I went through one of the many boxes that I have to go through and found all of our framed pictures and realized I don't really like all of the frames and the pictures are old. I'm going to take all of the pictures out and get rid of the frames. One box down a million boxes to go.
When am I going to find time to go through all of the boxes you ask? Well, how about in the evenings when Gavin is asleep? Yep. The little cutie patootie has decided he should sleep through the night. We are on day 10 of sleeping through the night!
Rest is amazing! It does a body good - and a disposition. Each day as I climb out of my sleep deficit I am less and less grouchy. I am not looking for a fight, not thinking disparaging thoughts of the dolt who cut me off (well, maybe disparaging but not vengeful). Hallelujah!
Back to the dinner with the friends. After dinner we sat around the living room chatting, playing with our uber cute baby and one of the friends piped up and said she didn't get blogging. It was lame. She didn't say it was lame but it was not at all an unrealistic conclusion to draw from her statements about it as they were coupled with her sour-ish facial expressions. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ryan motioning with his hand across his neck like, "stop" then he pointed at me and made some typing motions. I thought it was funny.
What I thought was even funnier is when she said she could understand blogging because we have a baby. They have friends who have blogs who post pictures of their babies. I could have let it go but I was having fun. I told her I had the blog long before Gavin was born but I didn't tell her that I don't post pictures all that frequently. (You will just have to deal with my lack of picture posting, people).
I don't expect everyone to enjoy blogging nor do I expect everyone to enjoy reading another's blog but how anyone could not enjoy reading mine is beyond me. Ask my husband, he might know. He doesn’t read it (boo). To be fair he knows everything I write about so to him it would be torture to read about something he experienced already or I told him about since he can't stand to hear a story more than once.
That makes me curious about something. How is it that he can not remember a book he read or movie he saw, or some of our dates (or which date he took to which restaurant -that's always fun) but he can remember every story I ever told him?
What's not entertaining about crying babies, infected boobs, homeless people ringing your door bell in the middle of the night and dirty diapers? C'mon! It doesn't get any better than this. Well, I think Swell & Sheepie's blog is the best. (See the link on my home page).
Tomorrow is going to be a fun day. First I go see Dr. Fiala - the best doctor in all of West Seattle. Aw, shucks, the best in all of Seattle. She really is great. My feet have been bothering me for a long time. Since before I was pregnant. But then when I was pregnant a lot of the foot stuff seemed pretty well linked to the weight gain and ever fun water retention.
I'm not going to go into a lot of detail about the feet because it is a boring subject. The reason I bring it up is because the outcome of the visit may be my undoing.
Last week I went to a new restaurant called Shadow Lands in West Seattle with Heidi and Krissy. Heidi is crazy. She is crazy because she runs. Last year she ran the New York marathon. Now she "just" runs half marathons. She looked at Krissy and me and said, "You have time to train for the half marathon in September."
Krissy and my response, "Ha! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha *gasp* ha ha ha ha ha"!
Heidi is not one to give up so easily so I said, "I will if Krissy does." I said that knowing full well Krissy would never in a million years say yes. Krissy is the one person I know who hates exercise more than me.
What do I know? Krissy's 30th birthday is right around the time of the half marathon and she think that it might be a neat thing to do.
Gyar!
Since Krissy caught me off guard I had to think of something fast! "My knees are bad", I said. "My feet have been hurting me", I offered up weakly. So, I'm off to see the doctor about my feet to see what's up with them and to see if running is a safe exercise for me or not.
Having said all of that about exercise and hating it I am trying to convince Ryan we should join the gym. I could pick him up after work and we would plop the G with the gym's babysitter and we could go exercise. And during the day if I needed a break I could go to the gym and swim or hang out in the sauna. I think he likes the idea because he hates the bus he takes to work since it is really crowded and smelly.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
He's Baaack..., Hair Balls & The Deterioration of the English Language
There are three things I've wanted to write about for the last couple of weeks but I don't have enough time, or desire, to write volumes on the subjects so I'm just going to lump them all in one and if my energy level doesn't waver I may write about nutty housecleaning. Oh, boy.
He's baaack...
I think I saw Red Van Man the other day. He was clean shaven so it took a second for it to register that it was Red Van Man. Since he hasn't been living in his van across the street I am going to assume he has a (stationary) roof over his head. Good for him. I hope he is doing well. Another indication of his move up was his newer wheels. He is now driving a nicer version of his old van, this one is blue.
Hair balls
They aren't so much hair balls as they are just loads of hair. My hair. Many people believe that when a woman is pregnant she grows more hair because her hair becomes very thick. I don't think pregnancy causes a woman to grow more hair rather I think that the normal 100 hundred or so strands that a person normally loses in a day are diminished. I almost forgot how much hair I used to pull from my comb after shampooing my hair. Since I was blessed with a thick mane I am not too concerned about the hair loss I am currently experiencing. I think it is just a little more than normal since I am breast feeding and my hormone levels are at a menopausal level.
Exciting stuff, this hair loss.
The Deterioration of the English Language
I am not an English major and do not make any claims to have a superior command of said language nor do I believe that my English is horrendous.
Having said that, can you tell me if this sounds off to you: "Whom would you like to have coffee with?"
If you frequent Barnes and Noble that statement may look familiar to you as it is displayed prominently on a stand promoting books by famous authors.
Should it not read: "With whom would you like to have coffee?"?
One would think the display at the bookstore would not have such a glaring error. English buffs please tell me if I am right.
And, yes, I am a dork for caring. : ) (And for using the archaic smiley face like I do).
He's baaack...
I think I saw Red Van Man the other day. He was clean shaven so it took a second for it to register that it was Red Van Man. Since he hasn't been living in his van across the street I am going to assume he has a (stationary) roof over his head. Good for him. I hope he is doing well. Another indication of his move up was his newer wheels. He is now driving a nicer version of his old van, this one is blue.
Hair balls
They aren't so much hair balls as they are just loads of hair. My hair. Many people believe that when a woman is pregnant she grows more hair because her hair becomes very thick. I don't think pregnancy causes a woman to grow more hair rather I think that the normal 100 hundred or so strands that a person normally loses in a day are diminished. I almost forgot how much hair I used to pull from my comb after shampooing my hair. Since I was blessed with a thick mane I am not too concerned about the hair loss I am currently experiencing. I think it is just a little more than normal since I am breast feeding and my hormone levels are at a menopausal level.
Exciting stuff, this hair loss.
The Deterioration of the English Language
I am not an English major and do not make any claims to have a superior command of said language nor do I believe that my English is horrendous.
Having said that, can you tell me if this sounds off to you: "Whom would you like to have coffee with?"
If you frequent Barnes and Noble that statement may look familiar to you as it is displayed prominently on a stand promoting books by famous authors.
Should it not read: "With whom would you like to have coffee?"?
One would think the display at the bookstore would not have such a glaring error. English buffs please tell me if I am right.
And, yes, I am a dork for caring. : ) (And for using the archaic smiley face like I do).
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Fluke?
Gavin did last night what we thought he would never do. I put him in our room in his swing at 10:30 shortly after Ryan went to bed. Since I had a nap earlier in the day I stayed up and cleaned the kitchen and watched an Oprah show before going to bed shortly after midnight. At 7:30 I woke up feeling kind of refreshed which was an odd sensation so I propped myself up on my elbow and peered over Ryan to squint at his alarm clock. When it registered that Gavin didn't wake up all night long I quickly looked over at him to see if he was alive (most parents do that after their baby sleeps for a long stretch for the first time). He moved his head as if to say, "Hey, Mom."
I fell back asleep for another hour. It was great.
Little G got a bath before church since his diaper was not designed to collect waste for 10 hours. I need to figure out a better nighttime diaper system since we switched to cloth. A disposable diaper would have leaked after that long, too but the cloth diaper just leaked a lot more. There is a diaper called Bum Genius that you launder like normal cloth diapers but it is one size that will grow with the baby from infancy to toddler hood. You have to see it to believe it but a series of snaps allows you to make the diaper smaller or bigger depending on the baby. It has a terry cloth liner that is super absorbent but you have to wash the wrap and the inside liner every time it is used unlike the traditional cloth diaper system.
It is too good to be true. One Bum Genius diaper cost $17. $17 for one diaper! Sure you can use it over and over again but you will want to buy 30 or 60 depending on how frequently you do laundry. The traditional cloth diapers (the kind we were in as babies) are about $1 each plus the cost of the wrap (about $7). I bought 60 cloth diapers and 4 wraps.
Hm, this diaper talk can't be to exciting for the non-parents out there reading this. There are whole websites devoted to cloth diapers. I perused the sites when looking for the best kind of diaper for us. The Bum Genius, G Diaper, Fuzzi Bunz, blah, blah, blah. The choices are overwhelming.
I'm hiding right now. Well, Ryan knows where I am but I had to get away from the incessant crying today. Gavin slept 10 hours and was in a great mood until church let out. It was all downhill from there. I suspect he is going to have a tooth popping out soon. He has been biting me a lot lately. He bites hard. Owie! Last night he wouldn't quit biting so I closed my bra and told him the bar was closed. I almost hope it's a tooth; at least that would explain why he has been in such a foul mood the last couple of days. Even when he is sleeping he wears a perma-scowl. It's cute when he's asleep but man, once he wakes up its "wah, yah, yah, yah".
Time for me to leave hiding. It's been long enough that Ryan probably needs a break.
I fell back asleep for another hour. It was great.
Little G got a bath before church since his diaper was not designed to collect waste for 10 hours. I need to figure out a better nighttime diaper system since we switched to cloth. A disposable diaper would have leaked after that long, too but the cloth diaper just leaked a lot more. There is a diaper called Bum Genius that you launder like normal cloth diapers but it is one size that will grow with the baby from infancy to toddler hood. You have to see it to believe it but a series of snaps allows you to make the diaper smaller or bigger depending on the baby. It has a terry cloth liner that is super absorbent but you have to wash the wrap and the inside liner every time it is used unlike the traditional cloth diaper system.
It is too good to be true. One Bum Genius diaper cost $17. $17 for one diaper! Sure you can use it over and over again but you will want to buy 30 or 60 depending on how frequently you do laundry. The traditional cloth diapers (the kind we were in as babies) are about $1 each plus the cost of the wrap (about $7). I bought 60 cloth diapers and 4 wraps.
Hm, this diaper talk can't be to exciting for the non-parents out there reading this. There are whole websites devoted to cloth diapers. I perused the sites when looking for the best kind of diaper for us. The Bum Genius, G Diaper, Fuzzi Bunz, blah, blah, blah. The choices are overwhelming.
I'm hiding right now. Well, Ryan knows where I am but I had to get away from the incessant crying today. Gavin slept 10 hours and was in a great mood until church let out. It was all downhill from there. I suspect he is going to have a tooth popping out soon. He has been biting me a lot lately. He bites hard. Owie! Last night he wouldn't quit biting so I closed my bra and told him the bar was closed. I almost hope it's a tooth; at least that would explain why he has been in such a foul mood the last couple of days. Even when he is sleeping he wears a perma-scowl. It's cute when he's asleep but man, once he wakes up its "wah, yah, yah, yah".
Time for me to leave hiding. It's been long enough that Ryan probably needs a break.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)