Sunday, December 31, 2006

Behind Closed Doors

So what is it that you enjoy when no one is around?

I will admit - I grew up listening to country music. I really couldn't help it; being trapped in the car for hours on end with my parents sort of forced me to adhere to their taste in music, whether I liked it or not. It somehow bored into my brain, filling tiny crevices with lyrics and melodies, and when Time Life comes out with a "Country Classics" collection, I automatically begin to salivate.

Anyhoo - when we visit the inlaws, I often have the opportunity to go see a friend or two, which puts me in the car by myself for good chunks of time. This city has a radio station that plays only "classic country" - songs from the 50's, 60's and 70's and for some embarrassingly unknown reason, it is my weakness. I tune in as soon as I get in the car and sing the songs word for word as if I had just heard them yesterday. It's shower singing at it's finest; loud and strong and so totally embarrassing!

In light of the fact I was able to hear some good tunes yesterday, I thought I'd share with you!
Enjoy!

Rosanne Cash - Seven Year Ache

Don Williams - I Believe in You (please ignore the pictures; it was the only whole version of the song I could find.)

Saturday, December 30, 2006

The Guy at Tortuga's

Who the heck are you? You were sitting at the table across from us with your wife and 2 children and you looked soooooo familiar. Your wife looked familiar too (congrats on the soon to be new baby by the way) but not in the same way. You, you I know from somewhere. Your eyes are very familiar. Was it high school? College? Somewhere in between? Man, this is going to drive me nuts. I want to say your name is Tommy? That could be wrong. I searched myspace but didn't find you.

If by some chance you remembered me too and find this - leave me a note, ok? It is going to drive me insane until I figure out who you are. My year books are all at home and I won't be able to look in them until some time next week.

I hate it when this happens. I am never brave enough to just walk up and say, "do I know you?" 'cause I don't want to make a fool of myself. Unfortunately I end up torturing myself instead until I figure out who the person is, and then end up missing the opportunity to reconnect with old friends/acquaintances.

Oh well.
D :)

Friday, December 29, 2006

Poor Puppy, We Know Not Your Name

Before you all read this, I want to just warn you this is not my usual post. Hopefully it will not be offensive to anyone (just funny).

We are currently staying at the in laws house. One of Hubby's cousins is getting married today and we came in for the wedding. Grammy and Happy have a beautiful house in the suburbs of a major city, and we enjoy going to see them on occasion. They also have a sweet little Jack Russell Terrier named Phoenix. Phoenix is a cutie - high energy (as most terriers are) and loves to play with Kiddo. He in turn will run and chase her for hours on end; screaming with glee at every turn and absolutely wear himself out doing so. He loves that dog. She is the perfect size, temperament and personality for a two year old kid. There is only one problem. Like most 2 year olds, some words are still hard to pronounce. Kiddo still calls a diaper a "bopper" and milk, "nok". Sometimes Lightening McQueen comes out "nighmin mcKeen" and so on. Last night when we arrived at G&H's house, Kiddo emerged from the car and ran to his Happy. When Phoenix came out he shouted at the top of his little 2 year old lungs "PENIS!!!, Penis!".

I couldn't hear him as I still had my head in the car, but Happy was rolling on the ground in a fit of laughter. As I approached the house, I heard it too - and tried miserably to contain my giggles. For the rest of the night the family thought it was fun to get Kiddo to call out for the dog, evoking roaring laughter from anyone within earshot. "Penis, where are you?!? Where did Penis go? Penis want a ball?"

ugh.
D :)

Monday, December 25, 2006

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Let your heart be light,
From now on our troubles
Will be out of sight.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on our troubles
Will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore,
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more.

Through the years
We all will be together
If the Fates allow,
Hang a shining star
Upon the highest bough,
And have yourself
A merry little Christmas now


Kiddo is still sleeping and Hubby and I are just waiting for him to wake up. We tried to explain that Santa was coming but I'm not quite sure he got it. Next year will be more exciting for him I think.

Here's to you and yours. May you have a glorious day!
D :)

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Go Tell it On The Mountain

I totally forgot to tell you - Thursday night Kiddo WENT TEE TEE IN THE POTTY!!!!!!

First time ever. Probably a total fluke - but I feel, as Luigi would say, "I must scream it to the world, my excitement, from the top of someplace, very high!" :)

Ok, go back to celebrating with your families.
Later,
D

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Sweet Little Jesus Boy

Sweet little Jesus Boy
They made You be born in a manger
Sweet little Holy chil'
Didn't know who You was
Didn't know You'd come to save us Lord
To take our sins away
Our eyes was blind
We couldn't see
We didn't know who You was
Long time ago You was born
Born in a manger low
Sweet little Jesus Boy
The world treat You mean, Lord
Treat me mean too
But please, Sir, forgive us Lord
We didn't know 'twas You
Sweet little Jesus Boy
Born long time ago
Sweet little Holy chil'
An' we didn't know who You was

I love old spirituals. Such soulful, powerful melodies. If sung properly, one can hear the moans and cries of the abused, tortured souls that made them. One can hear the heartache and pain in their hearts. Lovely, lovely, sad music.

My sweet little boy is still sleeping. He is in his new big boy bed that Grammy and Happy brought (actually it's a circa 1970 trundle bed - minus the trundle). It sits up way high off the floor (yikes for mommy!) and has new Cars sheets on it. He was so excited to be able to bounce in the bed and look at Mater and Lightning McQueen. He was exhausted yesterday - after a wild kids Christmas party at the neighbors and then visiting with G and H as well as his Aunt and Uncle all day - he had a quick 5 minute nap and at 11pm just rolled over while I was reading him a story (for the millionth time) and closed his eyes and went to sleep. So sweet and peaceful. I was up all night with every bump and squeak, afraid he was going to fall out of the bed and crack open his little round melon. He kind of freaked when we put the guard rail up, but was fine with it this morning. Though he slept for a solid 9+ hours, I was up every 30 minutes or so when I *thought* I heard him fuss or cry. ugh.

We had lots of fun at the party yesterday. Kiddo handled the large crowd of kids and moms pretty well; hanging out on the fringes for about an hour before feeling comfortable enough to go and play. The food supply was unlimited - cupcakes and brownies and chips and dips; oh yes also a veggie tray ;). Everything was so yummy! I feel for my friend and the mess we made on her carpet. It is nearly impossible to invite 20 kids to one's house and serve them sticky treats without some of it getting ground into the carpet! Santa made an appearance (the hostesses' dad rented a Santa suit and was AMAZING with the kids!) and Kiddo actually did really well. I've been talking up Santa Clause this year, because as soon as I pulled out the decorations Kiddo kinda freaked at the sight of the jolly guy in the red suit. We've been reading "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" several times a day and I've been telling him how cool Santa is. So when St. Nick came in the door with a sack full of goodies, Kiddo again retreated to the fringes, but remained intrigued. Each child was called one by one, to sit upon Santa's knee and tell him what they wanted for Christmas. Kiddo inched closer and closer throughout and then saw an opening and ran straight to Santa. Santa put Kiddo on his knee, and though he looked a bit uneasy, he didn't fuss or cry! YEA!! I got a cute pic of them checking each other out...

It was a really fun time. I am so glad we were able to make it.
More later,
D :)





Wednesday, December 20, 2006

O' Christmas Tree

O' Memas Tweeeee!!

Ok, who's bright idea was it to think a 2 year old would have fun making cookies?!?! Wait, let me rephrase that -why on earth did I think it would be fun to have Kiddo help me make cookies? I mean, I see people all the time, posting pictures on line of their kiddos happily shaping, rolling and "baking" and people talk about it like it is some good fun, but I guess my Kiddo is just not very "craft friendly". I set everything up all neat and such and he was really into it, but he just drive me nuts because he wanted to do ALL of it. He was not happy cutting out the shapes, no matter how big a fuss I made. He wanted to roll out the dough and stick his hand in the flour bag and spread flour. His little circles around the table and the mess and his haphazard cutting technique drove me batty. Maybe I am not craft friendly. Ah well. Here's a couple of pics of him anyway...



Rollin out dough...
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Cuttin out a Memas Twee...
The finished product was laughable - but they eat ok. :) I'm pretty sure I have red and green crystallized sugar embedded forever in my carpet.
Until,
D :)

Mele Kalikimaka

Sing it with me now!

Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say,

On a bright Hawaiian Christmas Day,

That's the island greeting that we send to you

From the land where palm trees sway,

Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright,

The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night,

Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii's way

To say "Merry Christmas to you."

Ahh, the holidays! I just love Holiday music. It is by far my favorite and if I didn't risk banishment from the community I would play it all year long! There are a few "hits" that I can live without though - maybe hear them once a year and be done with it, you know. The above tune is one such song I can live without. Feliz Navidad is another. I like to hear it once, but man, they play it every hour here! It drives me insane!!! You too? (oh come on, admit you sing along, especially on the "ah HA!" part! ;) )

Anyway, I was thinking today I would let you in on Kiddo's food of the month. Last month it was by far, frozen red seedless grapes. Kiddo ate them by the handful daily. (oy vey the diapers!) About a week or two ago he tired of them and wondered aimlessly through the land of food, searching for his next favorite treat. I am happy to say we have found a winner, Clementine Oranges!! If you have never sampled these little beauties, run out and get you a box. Easy to peel, very little stringiness and fuss, nutritious snack that they are, Kiddo has about 3 or 4 a day. My hands have a permanent orange smell to them now - ahh fresh!

For some reason, every time I peel one of these little nectar nuggets, the song Mele Kalikimaka plays in my head. *sigh* Hopefully that faze will pass soon!

I still haven't decided on a PMS treat of the month. I am baking something new every day so there really is no leader in the midst. Yesterday I made a wonderful Apple Banana Bread that I am hoping will defer my attention from the never ending supply of chocolate goodies we have lying around the house. And though I have not made the first thing from them yet, I simply cannot resist buying a $3.50 bag of mint-chocolate chip morsels every time I go to the grocery store. $3.50?!?!?! geeze!

Ahh well, that's what New Year's weight loss resolutions are for, right?
Until,
D

Saturday, December 16, 2006

Silent Night

Ok, after much debate, and in response to Thordora's contest, I am going to try to write out Kiddo's birth story. I have been thinking about it for a couple of days now, and it still brings up so many emotions for me, I don't know if I can do it.

Warning: This is LONG. I just can't describe his birth without recounting the events before and after. It may not be the best or the most well written story, but I can pretty much guarantee it will be the longest!

My first pregnancy. Such an exciting time. Finding out on Christmas day was the best gift anyone could ask for. Of course, my "present" was presented in the form of heaving over the toilet all morning, and a very unstable 4 hour car ride to my parents house. Though it was joked about by my loving family, I never truly thought I was pregnant until a test confirmed it several days after Christmas. Hubby and I were in shock, and I must admit, my reaction was not the best. We hadn't been trying; this was truly God's plan for us, and we were not prepared. Hubby took it all in stride, switching into survival mode and started making plans. I just tried to not throw up every day and conceal my exhaustion and nausea from my coworkers.

Over the next few months we were able to save a bit of money, buy a house, move into it, and get prepared for this amazing life I carried. Despite being fired from my job a few days before my 30th birthday (after my employer found out I was pregnant I was labeled "not a team player") we knew we would be alright financially.

At my 20 week appointment, my ob noticed some swelling in my ankles and feet. Summer was fast approaching and he wrote it off as a side effect of the climbing temperatures and the fact that if something wasn't swimming in salt, I wouldn't eat it! At the next appointment he told me to lay off the salt because my legs were swollen all the way to my hips. By then, my salt cravings had pretty much passed, but I trusted he knew what he was talking about. At 32 weeks, I began to have vision problems. A kaleidoscope pattern would begin developing on one side of my focal range and wash over my eyes until I could see nothing but the geometric shapes it created. A couple of times it caught me as I was driving and though I managed to get off the road before I was blinded, it scared the crap out of me. On one such occasion, I was with my pregnant friend at her ob's office. As my friend guided me down the hallway (because I couldn't see) she asked her nurse what could be wrong with me and she said it was probably seasonal allergies! My ob told me what I was having was a form of migraine headache, and that it was common for pregnant women to have them and not to worry. Again, I trusted his logic.

The amount of swelling I experienced left me looking much like the Michelin Man and by the 40 week mark I no longer had definition in my toes or joints. Because I was pregnant in the Texas heat of August, no one thought it might be anything serious; my blood pressure was always fine and urine samples tested clean. A couple of days before my due date, I began having contractions. Suddenly my dreams of having a natural birth were approaching reality. I had a normal pregnancy and there was really no reason why I shouldn't be able to deliver drug free. At my weekly Wednesday appointment, I told the nurse practitioner I had been having contractions regularly for a couple of days. She kind of blew me off; in that "oh you're a first time mom, you don't know anything" sort of way, but she was concerned that my blood pressure was a bit elevated so she sent me off for 2 hours to walk and see if I could get myself to progress any. My wonderful, pregnant friend was with me as I was afraid to drive while having contractions. We decided to go to the mall together to have lunch and let me walk. Did I mention she was 7 months pregnant with twins? Oh, well maybe I should add that in.

So there we were, my gigantically pregnant friend and my gigantically swollen self, eating Chick-fil-a at the mall. I freaked out the cashier when I had to stoop over for a moment and breathe through a contraction, assuring all the surrounding customers I was not about to give birth right there in the food court. My friend and I joked that we should rent a wheelchair and I could push her around the mall (she was supposed to be on bed rest!). She opted to sit in the book store instead and I did laps around each floor; receiving knowing looks from female sales clerks when I stopped for the contractions.

Two hours later I returned, no progress was made, my blood pressure was elevated but not serious so they sent me home. The np told me that if the contractions (that were every 3 minutes now) began to last for a minute or longer to call the ob on call (my regular ob conveniently went on vacation the day before). I reluctantly went home and began cleaning house; swaying through the contractions as I loaded and unloaded the dishwasher. I could do this. The contractions were not bad at all, and as long as I focused everything went smoothly. That evening they had progressed to every 3 minutes and lasting for over a minute so I called the on-call ob. Again, I was treated like the brainless first time mom and she told me I was probably in pre labor or false labor and that if I absolutely thought it was necessary I could go to L&D to be checked and she would write me a prescription for a sleeping pill. Hubby and I hadn't had dinner yet, so we decided to swing by the hospital on the way to eat.

As I'm sure you can guess, I did not go home that night. The nurse took my blood pressure and ordered me to sit down. Then she tested my urine and after reading the results yelled at me to lie down. I had full on pre-eclampsia and she was not letting me go anywhere! We were shocked, of course, and as I watched the staff hook me up to the monitors and the magnesium drip my visions of a drug free labor were fading. They wouldn't let me walk because of the magnesium. They wanted to monitor the baby for signs of distress. My blood pressure was off the charts. I was soooo hungry and they wouldn't let me eat. I thought for sure they were going to tell me they wanted to take him asap. Thankfully, the ob listened to my pleas and allowed me to rest through the night before any decisions were made. My contractions were still tolerable, I was staying calm and relaxed and trying not to panic. The night afforded me very little sleep. The nurses seemed to come every 30 minutes or so, drawing blood, putting in a catheter, hooking me up to all kinds of things, and the dreaded blood pressure machine put the squeeze on my arm every five minutes. The nurses tried to be quiet but really only one succeeded. I called her Stealth because she managed to draw blood without waking me up! Only 2 or 3 contractions were painful enough to wake me - they induced the flight response; making me wake up as I was trying to crab-crawl backwards, away from the pain and out of the bed. By morning I had only progressed to about 3cm and the ob discussed starting pitocin. I resisted, begging her to wait as long as possible, and she tried to oblige me until Kiddo's heart rate started dropping with the contractions. We agreed that breaking my water would be a good compromise and she left to get the dreaded hook.

In that moment, I panicked. I suddenly remembered my friends warning me that once your water breaks the contractions become unbearable. Several weeks before I had made a deal with myself that if I ever felt I couldn't take it anymore I would ask for the epi; and there would be no shame in that. At that moment though, I really wanted to go without, but my fear was taking over. I asked Hubby if I should get the epi, hoping he had listened to me in the past and would talk me out of it. Unfortunately, he was trying to be sweet and told me to do what I thought was best. Even though I was already dilated to a 7, I got the epidural.

When the drugs kicked in, I finally realized just how much pain I had been in. A strange euphoria set in, causing me to giggle and laugh and talk much more than usual. I experienced tremendous relief; I finally felt like I could breathe and all was good with the world. I called my parents, already in route, and told them something (I don't really remember what it was exactly) that made them laugh hysterically at me. Things seemed to be going well. They broke my water, Pitocin was administered and the contractions came faster and stronger. Before I knew it, and without warning the doctor came in and started putting me in the stirrups. The baby was showing signs of distress, my water had merconium in it and they wanted him to come out NOW. I remember saying something to Hubby like - "I guess we're pushing now" and he seemed as startled as I was.

I pushed for about 35 minutes before his head crowned. The ob asked me if I wanted to feel his head, so they took off my oxygen mask and let me reach down. I will never forget the soft, squishiness of his head, and trying desperately to envision exactly what it was I was feeling. A couple more rounds of pushing and 45 minutes after I started he emerged. Silent....Purple.... And all I heard was the doctor say "uh oh", and they whisked him away.

When she had pulled him up he was facing me. I saw his face; all cheeks and forehead. I remember thinking he looked huge and chubby; though he only weighed in at 8 lbs 14 oz. I was expecting much heavier. They took him over to the warming box to clean him and try to get him to breathe. I kept listening for his cry. The moment seemed endless. The doctor is shouting to nurses to go and get something because I was bleeding too much. It was chaos. I tried desperately to see my baby across the room. Hubby didn't know what to do and I finally sent him over to be with the baby. I stopped bleeding on my own, delivered the placenta and a small tear was sewn. Doctor after doctor came in and looked at my child. I heard them say things like "I don't know what that is. " and "I've never seen anything like that." and I began to think I had birthed something unreal. Then, after what seemed like hours, he cried. So sweet and pure and LOUD! He was mad and letting us know! I kept asking the doctor if I could see him - it was as if in a dream when you are trying to shout and all that comes out is a whisper. They weren't listening to me, ignoring me really, and all I could see was this endless trail of doctors coming in and out to see the baby I still couldn't see. I was on the other side of the room, all by myself. Hello? Um hello? Can I see my baby? What's wrong?

Finally, they wrapped him up and brought him to me. He was beautiful, perfect, alert, and as I thought, all cheeks! And the cause of all the questions - he was covered in what looked like abrasions all over his face. And people pondered...could the merconium have burned his skin? What would cause something like that? Was it a rash? a birthmark? Every one had a different theory. I was able to breathe him in and gaze at him for only a few minutes when the doctor came back in. The results of his blood tests came back - his blood platelet counts were critical, his liver was inflamed and his sugars were all off. He would have to go to NICU for monitoring. The nurse came to get my baby. I could tell it was the worst part of her job; taking babies from loving arms and breaking a new mother's heart. She looked at me with the most sincere look of sympathy, and hesitated to take him. I didn't want to give him up - I had just gotten him. We still needed to get to know each other... but I knew he was better off in NICU and so I reluctantly handed him over. I saw the nurses eyes welling. I knew she was hurting too - he was full term, alert; it seemed so unfair. They took him away from me.


The nurses were sympathetic, but they wanted me to stay in my room. I couldn't see him. Maybe at 11pm they said. Then maybe at midnight. Then, we don't know when, we'll let you know. I lost it. The door closed behind the nurse and I broke down, wailing and sobbing and crying so much I couldn't breathe. All I could think about was my poor baby, all alone, without me in that room. He must have been hooked up to monitors and IVs., he must have been scared. I was terrified. We didn't know what was wrong with him, no one else knew either, and they couldn't even tell us if he was going to make it because his platelets were so low. I felt like such a failure. My Hubby didn't deserve this. He deserved to have a perfectly healthy child, a perfectly healthy wife, and it was all my fault he was having to go through this. Between sobs I apologized to my husband. Bless his heart, he didn't know what to do. I thought my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I was hollow, empty, sad and so guilty. Maybe it was because I used blemish cream while I was pregnant. Maybe it was because I insisted on my daily Dr. Pepper fix. Maybe because I broke that mirror all of this was happening. I was lost.

I cried for so long there was nothing left. Totally dehydrated and exhausted, I collapsed into a traumatic, fitful sleep. The nurses had heard my cries. At 1am they came to get me to see my son. They wheeled me in the wheelchair up to NICU and placed me in front of his station. Just as I'd suspected - wires, needles, IVs - it was all there; invading my poor little one's body to the extent that he could only lie there. They wouldn't let me hold him. They were giving him massive amounts of antibiotics, sugar water and fluids. He could have an infection, he could be contagious, too much stimulation could hurt him; please don't touch him. I ignored them and held his little arm in my fingers. He was so calm, so peaceful - I just couldn't comprehend how anything could be wrong with him.

2 days and about 15 "specialists" later, they still didn't know what was wrong. My friend called me at the hospital. She had been researching on the Internet and wanted to know if I had Lupus. No, I don't think so, but my grandmother does... She had found a reference to a rare disorder called Neonatal Lupus and the symptoms were almost exactly what my boy had. That day the pediatrician came to see him. He suggested they test me for Lupus. We had found our answer. Thankfully, the disease is carried in the mother's antibodies. The rash on his face would heal and in 6 months he would be completely free of it. Completely normal. Healthy.

He stayed in NICU for 4 days. We finally convinced the doctors his platelets would dramatically improve if he was allowed to be with me. We were right. As soon as he was released to my care, his count more than doubled every day. My boy needed his momma as much as I needed him, and we have been practically inseparable ever since.Here he is one month later. Still all cheeks and forehead!

If you made it this far, thanks for reading.

Until,

D :)

Thursday, December 14, 2006

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

I am at a loss today. There are a couple of things I want to write about, but the words just aren't coming. Perhaps I should marinate on the topics a bit longer before I try to pour it out on here.

I think we are all starting to feel the stresses of the holidays. Seems like everyone I know has a grievance of some sort, many have more than their fare share. I wonder why all of this happens this time of year. Why does it seem like everything breaks and people get sick and "stuff" gets in the way of our holiday merriment? Add to that the holiday "merriment" itself - I mean who among us has a perfect holiday every year? I can't count how many people I know have suffered some disappointment on behalf of family, themselves and/or friends. All that planning and dodging and making believe things are a certain way; the holding up appearances and stifling hurt feelings and embarrassment and just trying to make it through without anyone noticing you are struggling. It's exhausting. I feel for all of my friends that are having these issues and wish I could do something about them, knowing full well that my sympathy is about all I can afford. Heck, I have my own appearances to upkeep and let me tell you, we don't even attempt to make ourselves look that great. The minimal we do is sometimes a struggle.

I realize I am being a bit cryptic about all of this. Perhaps it is just that life is normal for us all, but because of the "holidays" and everything that simple word implies is upon us that we more painfully feel the strain. Perhaps we spread ourselves too thin; thinking we have all the time in the world, gosh, a whole month at least, only to realize there are only about 3 short weekends that everything falls on. Every year I make all these plans in my head - the gatherings, the gifts, and my goodness the baking! Every year I make one batch of cookies and forget everything else! :) I guess I am a bit ahead this year; I have made 2 apple pies so far (though if I was being honest, they were not the best looking things - but they tasted good anyway) and a batch of cookies or two. But the gatherings and all the rest of it probably aren't going to happen.

We seem to be at a point in our lives when our friends are taking different paths. I guess you could call it adulthood; you choose your partner and family and career and set forth and it leads you where it will, and if your friends take similar paths all is well. When I was growing up, it seems like most of my parent's friends worked at the same company, (or something similar) they all had kids about the same age and they all had very similar incomes and interests. (and if the incomes were different, it balanced out some how) That doesn't seem the case with us. Maybe it just takes time, but our friends are those we've had since high school or earlier. We all do different things, our incomes are VASTLY different and our lifestyles could not be any more diverse. It is hard to get things together; there is always someone who feels uncomfortable or who doesn't want to be there, someone who desperately wants to hang but can't because financially it isn't reasonable, and still others who just don't find value or interest in keeping up with the latest ____ (fill in the blank - fashion, sports, technology, whatever). I struggle with the knowledge that hubby and I really don't have friends that are just like us.

Now, I know. I hear you. Some of you are saying if we would just go ahead already and join a church/community/etc. we would be able to find new friends with similar interest and situations. But honestly, I don't really believe it. Hubby and I are both painfully socially awkward, loner types and I just don't see us making new, life long friends anytime in our future. I guess that's why we have several dear, old friends. They know us, they love us, and there is very minimal effort involved in keeping them. And I love our old friends; truly. And I am so appreciative of them; but as I am sure I have mentioned before most of them live far away, or as stated above, have very different paths to follow, and daily I grow more weary of trying to keep up.

Sometimes we try so hard to identify and "fit" this mold that we want to run far, far away from, just to keep ties with these old friends. And daily I find the urge to run away growing stronger and stronger. Ideally I could move out to the country somewhere that no one knows us and happily live far away from the nearest mall or Starbucks. I would drive a beat up old pick-up and lay in the back watching the stars for nights on end. I would let my hair grow to my waist and forget what kind of make up I wear because it's been so long since I even opened the make up bag. And I could enjoy the crows feet and laugh lines on my face because they are symbols of basking in the warm sunshine and the laughter my beautiful family has provided. But, in our slice of the real world, that country dream will probably never become reality.

Ahh, I guess this is one of my random, epically long posts. I am feeling drained and stressed and so very, very tired. Perhaps if Kiddo would allow me 6-8 straight hours of sleep I would not feel so blue. Perhaps tomorrow will be better.

Perhaps it is time for another PMS treat of the month.... ;)
Until,
D :)

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Sweet, Sweet Baby

My sweet baby. He has always been a cuddler. From day one his favorite place was in my arms and after almost 2 and a half years nothing has changed. I love when he gets in one of his moods and needs a cuddle. He'll usually ask for some milk, "nok", and then either lead me by the hand to the couch or ask me to sit down so he can crawl in my lap. His favorite and only real "lovey" has always been my hair. He twirls it in his fingers, rubs it on the side of his cheek and sometimes pokes the ends in his mouth. Sometimes it is annoying. If he is having a particularly rough night, he is not the most gentle when messing with my hair. Inevitably there are times when he runs his sticky hands through it right after I've had a shower, leaving me with a clumpy, tangled mess to deal with. Sometimes when he is mad he will lash out at my locks. But most of the time, he treats my hair like his own personal comforter and even when he is occupied with other things will often run his fingers through it mindlessly. When I have been away from him I often return to his sweet "Mommyyyyy" and a big hug, wherein he automatically goes for a handful of hair.


Strangely enough, he is not a kisser. Daddy gets more kisses than I, and sometimes it makes me sad. But I know his affection for me is strong - just sometimes I miss those no teeth, open mouth slobbers that were so adorable when he was really little. The other day though, he made my week/month/year when I came home from the rigors of holiday shopping to my sweet boy. He ran to me with that adorable cry of "Mommy", arms outstretched, and I scooped him up for a big, hair holding hug. I squished him tight, asked if he missed me, and then the most unusual thing happened. He looked me right in the eye, leaned back a bit and then planted a big puckered-lip kiss right on my mouth. I was so shocked, and thrilled at the same time. It was the sweetest thing! Then, as if that wasn't enough, he proceeded to give me 5 more beautifully sweet baby kisses and loved me until I was literally crying. My sweet boy. May you always reserve your kisses for just when I need them the most!

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Holly Jolly Christmas

Oh you just gotta love company holiday parties. I never worked for anyone that did them (except for one, but they only invited management) so I have to experience them through Hubby's work. - ok, I take that back, I worked for a company one year that had a holiday party. One of the employees invited all of his loser friends and they spent the entire evening stealing stuff and getting high in the back rooms. It was not a pleasant experience, so I have tried to erase it from memory -

So anyway, about every other year Hubby's office puts on a pretty good shindig; nice location, good food, free drink tickets for all the employees (pretty $$$ overall); and we go, mainly so Hubby can be seen by the higher-ups and so we can sit in the back and watch everyone get stupid. This year was no exception. We were hosted at an old Mansion turned hotel downtown, served stuffed chicken and rosemary beef tenderloin medallions with a yummy red wine and mushroom sauce and there were two bars, one on each end of the room, actively serving the guests. This year the company hired a local photographer to do portraits of the guests - ok, just a hopefully helpful note here: if you are ever in charge of securing a photographer to do portraits for an event, please, please don't hire an architectural photographer, even if he's cheap. He may want to break into event photography, but most likely all you'll get is a bunch of pictures of the building mixed in with way over lit, harsh photos of the guests. End of Rant. No, actually the photos turned out pretty good (shh, I think he used a warming filter in his post processing). I'm not quite sure why the location shots are not of the actual location of the party, but whatever.

So we sat in the back at one of the many overly squished tables (why, why, why do party planners think it is ok to put 10 people at an 8 top table??? I know the chairs fit when they are empty, but when you put bodies in them, knees are going to be knocking, glasses will be toppled and people will NOT be able to walk between the tables. Either insist on booking less people or put only 8 chairs!!!) Ok, so I used to be an event planner too. Forgive me. We sat in the back with Hubby's best co-worker friend and his beautiful wife. Co-worker Friend (CWF) is notorious for his joking nature and picking fun at all things politically incorrect. So I got to endure the discussions about the alternative lifestyles and the races and all things that would potentially get a rise out of someone. Then came the discussions about who they didn't like and all the office gossip and poking fun at what people were wearing and who was flirting with who and how annoying they were. I swear, for a moment or two I thought I was sitting with 2 catty women, picking apart everyone else in the room. But it was all in good fun I guess. Hubby and I had a decent conversation about the photographer and the equipment he was using. It is fun for me to try to figure out how and why photogs do things, since we all seem to do things differently; and it was great having a decent conversation with hubby about it - until he forgot who I was and started making bad jokes and talking to me like he talks to CWF. It kind of shut me down and suddenly the event was not much fun. People were starting to feel the alcohol and get silly, the food portion was over and since this particular company doesn't do any announcements or anything there wasn't much left to the evening. So after staring blankly around the room for about 30 minutes, I told Hubby I was ready to go. No doubt Kiddo was by now giving his generous care givers a run for their money; as he did not nap that afternoon. I was pretty sure by then they were all in need of rescue.

I tipped the valet way too much money and we left (it was bitterly cold - I bet those guys were making a fortune!). Kiddo, who had been surprisingly wonderful, was exhausted when we picked him up and easily went to bed. Unfortunately, all he needed was about 2 hours of solid sleep and then proceeded to keep me up the rest of the night while he flailed and whined and annoyed me in his half asleep state. *sigh*

I guess it was a nice night. I got to dress up and look nice and not have to worry about food or snot on my clothes; got to pretend to be an adult with all the other pretend adults and got to see a beautiful, famous venue that I would not otherwise have the opportunity to see. The only expense was gas to get there and a valet tip - so yah, it was worth it. :)

Thankfully we only do that once a year though...
More later,
D :)

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Jingle Bell Rock

Ok, so I didn't try the fire eating thing, but Hubby suggested training him to walk on a bed of nails.....hmmm....nah. Maybe when he's older! ;)

I do, however feel like hammering a nail in my own head this morning, especially if I have to hear the shrill, whiney voice of some nasal problem inflicted preteen woman singing (only the first verse - ack!) Jingle Bell Rock one more time. The atrocious sound comes from the (imagine me saying this through gritted teeth) all too cute dancing Rudolf that my loving, wonderful parents gave Kiddo last year. (Hi Mom, THANKS!;) ) This is by far Kiddo's favorite thing right now. He pulled it out of the box of Christmas decorations before I had a chance to hide it and his gloomy world suddenly turned into a joyous, dancing, singing place. He walks around with it squirming in his little paws, trying to sing the song, pushing the dang play button over and over until his father and I are ready to stab our eyeballs with toothpicks.

Here's a pic of the little bugger in case anyone decides he might be cute...

He is NOT cute! Ok, maybe the first time or two, but then it just gets annoying. Please, take my word for it.
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Now here's something cute, but he's not for sale...



That's correct, he's wearing my shoes.

Oh, and it has been confirmed that he actually ate glass the other day. His diaper last night had lovely sparkles of blue...ugh.

More later,
D :)

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

We are Training Him for the Circus

How else would you respond to the question of why your child would eat glass?

Yes, I know it probably wasn't the smartest move in the world to put glass ornaments on the lower half of the tree, but Kiddo thought they were "pwetty cooool" and he thoroughly enjoyed helping me put them on. He is not usually the kind of guy that puts things in his mouth, but I guess crushed glass makes for a wonderful afternoon snack. After a joke of a call to poison control (did they really not think eating glass shards was a problem?) where they told me he was probably fine, I called the pediatrician and of course was ordered to come in immediately. Honestly, I wasn't really worried. I don't think he ate hardly any and what he really was doing was popping the glass in his front teeth. If he swallowed some it was minimal and well crushed. So off to the ped we went; we didn't even have to wait when we got there, which of course fueled Kiddo's already mounting anxiety. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot he started fussing; didn't want to get out of the car seat; he KNEW something was up! We got into the exam room, and the nurse looks all panicked. I explained the situation and she sends in the ped. Of course he asked me what happened and I have to tell the story all over again (why do they do that? He was right outside the door the whole time - don't make me tell it twice!!). So he checked him out - no cuts or scratches in his throat or mouth. The doc told me to watch for anything unusual, but he really didn't think he swallowed much if any at all and he sent us home. As soon as the exam was over and the doc left the room, Kiddo was up and saying "open the door? bye, bye? Aaaaahhlllll DONE!" He wanted out of there. He totally snubbed the toy chest on the way out and headed straight for the door!

So it was a semi exciting day. When we got home I moved all the glass ornaments to the top of our now stupid looking tree. Kiddo is greatly displeased that he can't touch the "bahwoons" anymore and has now taken to yanking the lights out of the branches.

Maybe today I'll teach him the fine art of fire eating...
Until,
D :)

Monday, December 04, 2006

Baby It's Cold Outside

Kat got that song stuck in my head this morning - it's cool though 'cuz it is true and I like it! :)

My poor Kiddo - he is totally fighting diaper changes these days. I thought it might be because he is starting to show signs of wanting to potty train and he just needs control. I ask him if he is wet/poopy and he always says NO very emphatically (even when I know it's not true). He runs away from me and tries to keep me from picking him up to change him. He fights me on the changing table; kicking and yelling and clinging to his pants for dear life so I can't take them off. It has truly been frustrating the past week or two and a couple of times we have both ended up in tears.

But I think I have figured out the problem. I have bitterly, frighteningly cold hands. It has always been a problem of mine, but in the winter it is terminal. Especially when I have been on the computer a lot, my mouse hand could chill your favorite beverage in a matter or seconds. Poor guy, I wouldn't want anyone touching me with ice fingers either. So, I have to make a game out of changing the diaper, trying to do things quickly and without any skin on skin contact. I keep telling him if he would just potty train we wouldn't have this problem, but I don't think he is listening! :)

We started putting up holiday decor last night. Kiddo calls the big green thing in the living room a "Memas Tree", and the ornaments are "bahwoons" (balloons). He helped me place the blooo lights and hang the bahwoons and was very disappointed when they were all gone. (of course they are all on the bottom branches this year, completely opposite from last year when I put everything on the top half of the tree!) According to him the whole thing is "pwetty coooool". Man, I love his little voice. Yesterday he looked up through the skylights in our kitchen and said "Look, the cwouds are pwetty cooool". I just about melted! How can so much cuteness be bottled in such a small package?

Oh yes, and now that NoBloPoMo is over, someone has started Holidailies. Should we all jump on the bandwagon?

More later,
D

Friday, December 01, 2006

Things I am Thankful For

I light if the past few days events (see post below) I think I need to make a statement about 10 things that I am thankful for. I have been blessed in so many ways and it helps to remember that when I am feeling low.

1. This morning I am thankful that my Kiddo is still asleep and I have a moment's peace (though he is in MY bed and will probably leave me a nice, warm, wet spot! :P blech )
2. I am thankful for the one car we have that is running ok - even though it needs work
3. I am thankful the car that broke down on Tuesday waited until after our 600+mile trip last week
4. I am thankful for the amazing clients I had this season and that my little business seems to be doing pretty well. (now if I could stop buying equipment I might actually make a profit)
5. I am thankful for my amazing family and their generosity
6. I am thankful for my neighbor and her ability to "spread the word"
7. I am thankful for the roof over my head, the money in the bank that will cover our bills and the food on the table
8. I am thankful for my sweet baby boy and the joy he brings me every day (and the headaches as well)
9. I am thankful for my Hubby, who's patience is astounding and who's sacrifice is appreciated more than he will ever know.
10. I am thankful for God's Grace, that He might allow me such a blessed and comfortable life

Those are my 10 for today. I think I may try to make this a monthly thing; just to keep me focused on what is important.

What are you thankful for today?

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