Forty Something

New Blog

2010-01-01T14:17:00.000-05:00

http://abetterdecade.blogspot.com

You'll notice that I use my real name on this one.

Happy New Year--I'm starting a new blog!

2010-01-01T11:42:00.003-05:00

I've been gone a long time!

A quick update on the last few months.

--I have lost most of the "baby" weight without even trying. Who knew that all I needed was a lot of stress and a health scare (still in the middle of this, but I'm hopeful that all will be OK).
--I turned 41 last week. Less traumatic than turning 40, and yet, I am now fully into my forties.
--The girls are marvelous. They drive me bonkers, but they are smart, funny and creative.
--Had two papers published in the Fall. Right now, it looks like a smooth ride to full professor. I go up in Fall 2011.

I'm going to start a new blog this weekend. It will be a little different. My identity will be a little more transparent and my husband may occasionally chime in. I'll post a link as soon as I get it set up. I hope you'll visit me there. I'll still post here some. Can't really make fun of my mother-in-law (who spent a rocking $5 on my younger daughter for Christmas) if my husband is reading. He gets touchy about these things.

Until then, Happy New Year!

*%#$ doctor

2009-09-21T13:26:00.002-04:00

Now that the doctor called me fat--well, not fat, but used-to-be-thin--I'm determined to do something about my baby weight* before it gets worse and he does call me fat or overweight or bmi challenged or something equally appalling. That means I was out the door at 6:30 a.m. for a short run before work this morning and that I just had a boring salad for lunch. In other words, it is a very jolly Monday around here.

*Is it still baby weight if the baby is now three?

I used to be quite thin!

2009-09-18T23:11:00.004-04:00

When I signed up for my blog, I used a hotmail address. I was pretty happy with hotmail until I met Gmail, which was smarter, more handsome and more clever. I was smitten. So I turned my back on hotmail. Dropped it like a hot .. .well you know.

When I tried to switch my Blogger account to Gmail, Blogger wouldn't allow me to do it* so I had to continue to use the hotmail address to login. Sometime this summer, I forgot my blogger password, but because my blog account was linked to my by now inactive hotmail account, I couldn't get it reset.

I just remembered the password. This time, I'm going to write it down.

*Why blogger won't accept gmail accounts is beyond me. They are the same company.
______________________________________________________________________________________

I wish I could report having successfully lost the extra pounds that have weighed me down, but I'm about where I was two months ago.

Two days ago, I had to make a visit to my general practitioner because my allergy and asthma symptoms have been worse lately. Because my GP had a heavy day, I opted to be seen by one of her colleagues who had an appointment available. He was quite thorough, and he took a little time looking through my chart asking good questions like, "Do you really need pets?" and "Do you really need the Ambien?"**

After about a minute of flipping backward through time in my chart, he stopped suddenly and looked at me, "You used to be thin!"

Bastard. He was looking at my chart from 2001 when I was running marathons.

I'm back on the weight loss bandwagon.

**I most certainly do need it.

Day 10: Hanging in there

2009-07-10T21:46:00.002-04:00

M hasn't had a single accident since we potty trained on Monday. Of course, she hasn't pooped in the potty, either, so we are only part-way potty trained. I started her on Miralax yesterday, and she finally did have a BM during her nap today (I had put her in pull-ups hoping for this outcome because stool retention is a "thing to be avoided" according to our wonderful pediatrician). I'm hopeful that a few days of the gentle laxative will get things running which will give me opportunities to get her on the potty. This worked for E, and I can't see why it won't work for M. . . eventually.

This weekend, after I take pictures of the nursery (which I don't think I've ever done), we are going to convert M's crib into a toddler bed and redecorate a bit. Out with the jungle animals and in with pink and purple polka dots. I've kept her in a crib this long partly out of laziness, but partly because I dread her wandering. This is the child who, at fifteen months, climbed atop the kitchen table while I showered and who, at 16 months, learned to get out of the crib*. She has a knack for finding the single most precarious spot upon which to perch wherever we go, be it the edge of a steep retaining wall at my in-laws mountain house or the side of a duck pond. I shudder to think of what trouble she will find while we sleep. Still, with her third birthday six weeks away, it is time to move her.

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Today I ran 2 miles and took the girls to a play date using the bike trailer rather than the car (very pleasant day for Coastal SC in July). I mainly stayed away from crappy food and tried to focus on filling, healthy foods.

Though 2-3 miles is about as far as I have been going, partly because of the heat, partly because of my spinal issues and party because of laziness, I'm going to push myself tomorrow to go 5 miles even if I need to alternate walking and running to do so. I keep thinking about signing up for a December or January half-marathon. Part of me thinks that this is exactly what I need in terms of a mental and physical challenge, but the another part of me thinks this is crazy talk given the previous spinal fusion and the new, but currently stable, herniated discs. Then there is my recently diagnosed hernia to consider. . . Crap. I'm getting old.

*Now we shall sing the praises of the crib tent.

Day 8: Two steps forward, two steps back

2009-07-08T22:28:00.002-04:00

After months of trying to convince M to potty train, she hasn't had a single accident since the light bulb came on Monday afternoon. In case anyone stumbles across this after googling some combination of the following words potty training, stubborn, holding urine, scared of potty, screaming, almost three, terrified, or big girl pants, here is what finally worked after M had held her urine for about five hours and was obviously in pain from the effort.

1. Run water in bathtub.
2. Strip child from waist down.
3. Stand child (who may be screaming) in running bath water. Wait for trickle.
4. Quickly transfer child to toilet so business can be finished in correct place.
5. Praise child, suggesting that this was their wonderful idea.
6. Repeat.

The ah ha moment came the second time we did this. The third time, she asked me to run the water and that was enough. After that, she got it. There have been no accidents in three days. Of course there has been no poop in two days, but I have a plan for that.

Last night as I was telling J how happy I was about finally having payoff in the form of potty training success (I did 100% of the potty training), he said, "She was bound to get it on her own." Bastard.*

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While M is off to the races, I am not eating well at all. I was too chicken to check my weight this morning. I have stepped up the exercise, however. This morning I ran a few miles and this afternoon I worked on machines at the gym and then lifted M in and out of the pool while E took swim lessons. I also charged my Gowear Fit and started wearing it again.

*Right answer: "You were so patient to stick with this. She wouldn't have been able to move up to the three year old classroom if not for you. You are a goddess. Which foot should I massage first?"

Day 6: Woo woo!

2009-07-06T20:32:00.002-04:00

I gained weight overnight and ate terribly today--Devil, thy name is Wheat Thins--but who cares?

M tinkled on the potty five times! There is much work and reinforcement to be done, but the potty training train is finally out of the station. Woo woo!

Day 5: Looking ahead

2009-07-05T21:00:00.003-04:00

If I was exhausted yesterday, today I am roadkill. As predicted, my pyromaniac neighbors shot fireworks late into the evening. And as predicted, my dog went ~~apeshit~~ bonkers. Having been sternly warned by the vet last week that we should not exceed the recommended dose of Xanax for fear of interaction with the dog's newly prescribed daily dose of clomicalm, we were expecting the meds to at least slow her down. Instead, she flung herself at the window, panted, shook, whined, and barked for hours on end. Over the course of the evening, we looked at one another guiltily, but we tripled her prescribed xanax dose. When she was finally calmer, but not yet asleep, we discussed the possibility that perhaps we would wake to find our dog dead of overdose. But barely an hour later, during round three of the pyromaniacs's festivities, we heard barking and pacing again. I did the only thing reasonable at that hour: I took an emergency Ambien.

Too bad they don't make pediatric Ambien, because M could have used it last night. It turns out that, like the dog, she is terrified by fireworks. As the dog barked, M wailed. Unlike the dog, M is allowed in our bed in cases of bad dreams, illness, or frieworks. We put her in bed with us and finally moved her to her room in the wee hours of the night. Less than an hour later she woke mid-dream freaked out s it was back to our bed until 6:08 a.m. when she woke insisting that I feed her NOW.

Now that the house is quiet (no!I hear fireworks again and I WILL go talk to the pyros if this upsets beast or child), I am trying to take stock and plan my week. Tomorrow is forecast to be rainy so I'll need to come up with some indoor activities for the girls. The house is a mess so I may try to make cleaning up some sort of game. Both girls see the ENT at 2:45 and E has swim lessons at 4:45. I have the sitter from 9-2 Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and will be at my office each day attempting to be focused.

Today's being better stats:

Weight: 124.6 (down .2 lbs from yesterday, or 1.4 lbs from Wednesday)
Diet: I had crackers today. And m&m's. Tomorrow is a new day, right?
Exercise: Half hour beach walk using waves as resistance.
Dogs: Did not kill the Vizsla.
Husband: Very annoyed with. Just because.
Beauty: Sunscreen at beach?
Patience with children: M was a sleep-deprived beast today. I didn't snap at her because I knew where the behavior was coming from. E had her first good day of the long weekend.

Day 4: Exhausted

2009-07-04T20:16:00.006-04:00

Thanks, Bittermama for the excellent sibling advice. I am going to try and get the book you recommended this week. Nic, this week excepted, E's behavior improved at about 3.75 years old, but 2.75 to 3.75 was all about the id.

Today we picnicked with friends at their house. While the kids splashed in the baby pool, the adults chatted. D, our hostess, is 8 months pregnant so much of our talk was centered on pregnancy, delivery and the aftermath. I asked M if she knew what was in D's belly and she answered enthusiastically, "cake!" E, on the other hand, understood what was baking and was fascinated. Just before we left, another of our hosts' friends popped by to visit. She has a new baby (delivered at home by her husband who was on the phone begging the 911 operator to get the ambulance to them faster) and a two year old. J, our host, met them in the drive so he could carry the baby in. As he walked into the backyard with the infant in the carrier, E shouted excitedly, "Oh, did Katie's mommy just have the baby?"

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I am exhausted this evening. I anticipate that my pyromaniac neighbors continue shooting fireworks well into the evening, and we will likely be kept awake, if not by the fireworks, then by our neurotic, noise-phobic dog who is already shaking and panting. We've pretreated her with xanax in anticipation of the noise, but we aren't expecting much in terms of efficacy as it hasn't been working for thunderstorms.

My July 4 update:

Weight: 124.8 (down .2 from yesterday)
Exercise: None.
Parenting: Better, I think. I'm trying to potty-train M and I was the model of patience today. Potty-training has been a hard sell, because while she is ready for underpants and can hold it forever, she is frightened of going on the potty. We did not have any potty successes today, but I did manage to convince her to pee in front of the potty on a towel. That probably sounds pathetic, but she was pleased with herself, and I felt like a little progress was made. E and I took a shopping trip while M napped and had a pleasant time.
Anti-hag activity: I used my revitalash. Does that count?
Dogs: Drugged.

Happy Fourth!

Day 3: Summer break

2009-07-03T21:30:00.003-04:00

Stats: 125 lbs (down 1.8 from yesterday or 1 from my Wednesday weigh-in.)
Eating: No chocolate, but I did have crackers and cheese this evening. Oops.
Exercise: Does lifting a toddler in and out of the pool for 1.5 hours count?
Dogs: I haven't mentioned euthanasia today. Not once.
Relationship with J: Hooray Sarah Palin for giving us something other than children to gab about.

Parenting:
June 26 was the last day of preschool for the girls until August 25. I like the college's child development center, but its closing for summer break does not work for me. Despite having hired a sitter for 15 hours a week, one week in, I am not entirely certain that I am going to survive the break. At the moment, it seems like the girls move from one meltdown to another, and I am sometimes melting down with them. This week, E (nearly 5) is leading the way (overtired? should I try to force her to nap?), but M (nearly 3) has her moments, and her standard response to my requests or commands is a somewhat regal "I will not."

It isn't just the individual meltdowns and defiance that have me on edge. There is something about the way they interact, that seems to bring out the worst in each other. Separate, they tend to behave, but together, well, that is another story. When I was pregnant with M, I had this hazy, pleasant image of a future in which two little girls--best friends and sisters!--held hands as they skipped along the beach. While that happens--sometimes-- at any given moment it is more likely that they are squabbling over a toy that, though it has been in the toy box unnoticed since Christmas, is now VERY important and MINE, MINE MINE. On the positive side, I have learned that if I confiscate said toy, I can be a uniter, not a divider, because my action results in a sense of solidarity between the girls along with agreement that mommy is a "mean meanie."

Today, I am afraid that I snapped as much as I usually do. J, who had the day off, suggested that I just ignore them, but I will have to work on that harder. The whining and squabbling are like the drip, drip, drip of water torture.

*The terrible twos weren't so bad for my girls, but at about 2.75 year, all hell breaks loose.

Day 2: Jumping in

2009-07-02T21:23:00.003-04:00

I guess you could say that Day 1 of my July "better me" experiment was just a day of deciding I wanted to do better, not actually doing better. This may explain why my weight was up to 126.8 this morning. Yes, I gained .8 pounds over night. Sweet.

With no further ado, here is my daily report.

Diet: Today being a new day and all that, I did somewhat better on the whole eating front. My basic plan is to stay away from bread and crackers and fistfuls of m&m's (which are supposed to be bribes for potty training). I confess that I still ate a good bit: fiber bar for breakfast and string cheese for a morning snack, three veggie dogs for lunch with baby carrots and dip (sue me), hot air popcorn for afternoon snack, laughing cow light cheese for pre-dinner snack, ratatouille (100% local produce!) and broiled tofu for dinner, and skinny cow chocolate truffle bar* for dessert. Like I said, it was a good bit of food, but I am not missing the bread and m&m's at the moment. I guess the scale will tell me if I need to cut back further.

Exercise: I walked a couple of miles between campus and the treadmill, but it wasn't strenuous. The most strenuous thing I did today was walk five flights of stairs rather than take an elevator. I worked out on machines at the gym and feel sure I'll feel that tomorrow.

Not snapping at my children: This is hard! Hard! Why must it be so hard? Perhaps I have a genetic sensitivity to whining and screeching and moaning and groaning. My maternal grandmother was an alcoholic whose elder care fell to my mother. One day when I was reluctantly pressed into service at her house, I decided to risk asking her how she started drinking. She slurred, "The whining and noise of children bothered me. I did not care for it ONE BIT." It figures.

Conversing with my husband: This morning, when he was playing on the computer and I was trying to dress two children, run the vacuum, and get ready for work, I remember thinking I should tell him an amusing story about our governor who, after going missing last week, has been the center of national attention. Instead, I told him that "I'm not getting much out of marriage these days."

Beauty: Surely there is a better word for my efforts in this area. Is there a word for "not looking like a tired hag?" This morning I remembered to use my salicylic acid peel which is basically a pretreatment for the glycolic acid peel that I will do tomorrow. Now, I just need to remember to pick up the tube of cream the dermatologist prescribed the melasma on my jawline.

The dogs that I should love more: The elder dog who is 16 had five teeth extracted yesterday. He is a sweet, arthritic old man, but should we really be plunking out $340 on a dental treatment for a dog whose bladder is sometimes faulty and whose time is limited? The younger dog who, at 11, would be considered old in any other household, has an anxiety disorder. She has just started medication for it, but we can't tell a difference thus far. More on this later, I promise.

*Seriously delicious.

An experiment

2009-07-01T13:10:00.005-04:00

I'm not keeping up with my blog, am I? I blame Facebook, summer, and the countless hours I have spent tracking the folly that is my governor (maybe not for much longer), Mark Sanford. I'm back now, though, big time.

Lately I have been suffering from a severe case of feeling like I'm falling short.

-I snap at my kids too often. The bickering, the whining, and the meltdowns wear me down.

-I don't watch what I eat. Before I had E, I weighed about 113 pounds. After E, I weighed about 116. Now I weigh 126 (as of Monday). I am small framed and the extra weight shows.

-I spend my time at the office inefficiently. I find that I only settle into my work after several hours of reading, chatting in the hall, walking around campus, etc.

-I don't converse with my husband enough. It seems like every conversation is about children or dogs these days. "Did she just have another accident?" "How long are dogs supposed to live anyway?"

-I don't exercise regularly. I have exercise equipment. I have running shoes. I lack willpower.

-My teeth are dingy thanks to my caffeine habit. I am lazy about bleaching them

-My hair isn't shiny. This, I think is due mostly to age, but still.

-My skin is dull. Age and sun damage.

-My car is dirty. No excuses here. I need to go to the carwash.

-I don't like my dogs enough. In the last month, we (and by we, I mean J) have spent approximately $1000 on our 11 and 16 year old dogs. I'm not feeling the love.

-My garden is neglected. No excuses.

-My house is dusty.

-I don't call my friends often enough. Why is this so hard?

I declare July the month of being better. *Me* being better.

Surely I can do better. Right? This will be the month of daily weigh-ins, teeth bleaching, counting to ten before I respond to whiny children, trips to the gym, facial peels, and deep cleaning. Each day, I'll post an update on my progress or lack thereof. Let the experiment begin.

Long time gone

2009-04-08T18:54:00.003-04:00

Has it really been two months since I posted? Really, not much has happened out of the ordinary, but I've been so busy it seems like a lot has happened. Here is a sample of what we've been up to:

Both girls had the stomach flu and were home for a week in February. This was the same week I hosted the state association so things were, ah, a bit stressful.
We spent a lot of money on structural repairs and a new roof.
We then spent a lot more money taking the girls to Disney. Big fun. I'll try to remember to post pictures.
Upon returning from Disney I spent the following several weeks preparing two conference papers. I presented these in New Orleans last week.
Have been instructed by pediatric dentist to get rid of M's pacifier right away. This was two weeks ago. Paci Fairy is coming this weekend. It is going to be traumatic, I'm afraid.
J and I are discussing who should get the "permanent" birth control. This makes me sad. I've made an appointment with my gyn to discuss the possibilities. In the meantime, I am jumping J's bones every chance I get in hopes for a miracle. Obviously, a longer post is necessary here.
I have to decide whether to have a second round of spinal surgery. The thought of trying to recuperate and take care of my family fills me with fear. The thought of constant pain or permanent nerve damage isn't good either.
I've decided to get serious about these ten "baby" pounds. Again. After exams of course!

Off to grade rough drafts of papers. Barf.

Baby days

2009-02-07T22:14:00.007-05:00

I had to go to campus today to retrieve a book I left behind yesterday in my haste to pick up the girls. I took M with me so that J could take E to a Star Wars themed birthday party.

M and I hung out in my office just long enough for me to locate the missing book and to straighten up a few things. (My office is basically out of control at this point in the year, but I find it soothing to rearrange my piles of paperwork, journal articles, and output into neat piles of paperwork, journal articles, and output.) Once I was done shuffling my clutter, we headed out and decided to take a walk through campus as it was a warm and glorious day.

As we walked about, M grasped her stuffed monkey, "Miss Monkey," in one hand and my hand in her other, and we talked. Talked!

"I not cold," she told me.

"Miss Monkey likes peanut butter."

"That 'quirrel runs sooo fast!"

"My name is M M M (saying her full name perfectly)."

"You stay here, Mama, and I run," as she directed me to sit on the steps of our administration building while she ran along the oak lined paths leading to it.

As I was sitting watching her zip by, I realized with a jolt that the baby is gone, replaced by a little girl who likes to jump up and swing high! high! high! and sing loud and chase squirrels and play silly games on the way to school in the morning.

This realization left me a bit unsettled. So I disobeyed orders and left the steps. And as the light filtered through the stately oaks to the brick lined path below, I scooped up my little girl and covered her in kisses. She was still for a moment, and snuggled close, her head resting against my chest, my baby once more.

Crazy excited

2009-01-19T21:05:00.002-05:00

When Bush "won" eight years ago, I knew it would be bad, but I had no idea how bad. War, torture, financial implosion, erosion of women's rights, domestic spying, Gitmo, Darth Cheney,WMD, mission accomplished, levees breaking, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. It was hard to recognize my country at times.

But now, I feel like we are on the cusp of something good. Something transformative; I'm proud of my country again. And I'm crazy excited for tomorrow.

I am evil

2009-01-06T13:09:00.003-05:00

My 45 year-old sister-in-law just emailed to tell me that her latest IUI was unsuccessful. Was I sad for her? No, I was relieved. Somehow the thought of her being more fertile than me stirs some very negative emotions. I am evil.

Breaking out of my box

2009-01-02T08:10:00.007-05:00

We aren't big on going out for New Year's Eve here. I would blame it on the children and the difficulty finding a sitter, but that would be disingenuous seeing as how we seldom went out before children. We just don't find it fun to fight the crowds, dodge the drunks and stay out so late. Yes, we were old before we were old.

However, we do have the traditional Southern New Year Day feast, with black eyed peas in the form of hoppin' john, collard greens and cornbread. When my family is present, there is always some form of pork served with the meal, usually hog jowl (disgusting!). We, being nearly vegetarian, happily skip this when it is just us.

The original plan for yesterday was to have my parents drive down and join us for lunch, but my mother called sounding awful and begged off for fear of bringing yet another illness into our home. That left me with a lot of food. Ten minutes after my mother called, a friend rang asking if the girls needed a playdate this weekend. I blurted out, "Why don't you come for dinner tonight?"

Now to most people, this spontaneous invitation is probably no big deal. But for me, it is a rather big thing because I don't entertain very often, and when I do, I obsess over it a long time in advance. It isn't that I don't enjoy having people over, but I do have some anxiety. I trace this back to my mother who wouldn't let us have friends in the house unless it was absolutely clean and perfect.

I'm glad I broke out of my normal box and had them over. The house wasn't perfect and the food wasn't perfect, but last night was fun! The three girls played well, and it was fun to have some good conversation. I also learned that my friend is eight weeks pregnant. She and I miscarried within a few weeks of one another over the summer so it was good to hear that she has already seen a strong heartbeat and that everything is going well. I admit to having pangs of something, (not jealousy per se; maybe longing? wistfulness?), but I am thrilled for them.

It was a nice start to 2009. I hope you are also off to a good start.

New Year, New Wishes

2008-12-31T21:09:00.004-05:00

Normally, I take a little time around my birthday to take stock of what the last year has brought and what I want from the new year.

Here is what I hoped for last year and how things turned out:

That I step up my research efforts.
Yes and no. I am behind as usual, but I have a relatively light load next semester and I intend to finish two projects and start a new one that I am excited about.

That I make getting more sleep a priority.
Oh my goodness, no. I failed miserably. I think I will have to write an entire post about why I can't seem to get to bed at a decent hour and how my children think 6 a.m. (or earlier!) is a fine time to rise.

That my girls are healthy.
Yes, thank goodness. Very few illnesses this year other than the horrible flu last January.

That I find ways to deal with my children's tantrums without losing my cool.
I'm still working on this. I will say that life with E is getting better. I feel guilty for admitting this, but I really did not enjoy most of her three's which made the two's look like a day at Disney. Luckily, she seemed to turn a corner around her fourth birthday and is (generally) fun again.

That J and I continue to work on better communication.
It is hard to assess right now as I'm still smarting from the birthday thing last week.

That we have another healthy pregnancy.
We certainly tried, but between two miscarriages and upcoming spinal surgery, it seems highly unlikely.

That we are able to retire our debt and start saving beyond what we are putting into retirement.
Yes! Real progress here. We will be able to pay off our car in the next few months and will have no debt other than house debt after that. We have also been building our savings a bit and hope to ramp that up.

That I work on becoming better organized and home and at work.
In progress, but I'm improving.

That I take time to take care of myself.
Not so much.

That fewer stray hairs show up on my chin and jawline.
I've discovered the beauty of the epilator. I use it once or twice a week and I'm pleased with the results.

That my growing-out hair gets past the awkward stage quickly.
I found a great hair stylist who eased me through this. I now have a chin-length bob that I like.

That I see my friends more often.
Yes! I went away with my friends in November and I've been having lunch dates. I neglected friendships for far too long.

That I keep writing in this space.
Though I post infrequently, I'm still happy to be posting here.

Here are my wishes for 2009:

That I close out old projects so I can start a study of differences in social support systems between stay-at-home mothers and working mothers. (Note: I am not implying that mothers who aren't employed outside the home aren't working. I am just interested in variations in the social organization of support.)

That I make getting more sleep a priority. This is a huge problem and I think my health is suffering.

That my girls are healthy.

That I lose my patience less frequently when my children are trying.

That J and I continue to work on better communication.

That I am happy with the family I have and don't mourn the family I thought I might have.

That I work on becoming better organized and home and at work.

That I take time to take care of myself. I need to work on nutrition, sleep, and getting strong before my spinal surgery so I can have a quicker recovery.

That I continue to make time to see my friends.

That I keep writing in this space.

40

2008-12-25T19:48:00.003-05:00

Now, I'm a forty something. That went by so fast.

J seems to have completely blown off my birthday. Except for a brief "happy birthday" this morning, there wasn't so much as a card for me today. No wonder little E recently told me that mommies don't have birthdays. I don't expect much, but damn.

This was the warmest Christmas Day in the books. 80 degrees. We took the girls to the beach this morning and let them go barefoot. Tomorrow we leave for four days to celebrate with the families. I'm not looking forward to it, but it seem unavoidable.

Hope you are having a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, super Kwanzaa, or festive Festivus or whatever you celebrate this time of year.

I suppose I'll need to come up with a new title for this blog

2008-12-24T00:18:00.002-05:00

But I'm still in my thirties for one more day (23 hours, anyway).

All in all, I must say that turning 40 beats not turning 40.

And I'm happier now in many ways than I was at 20 or 30.

I have tenure. I don't feel the need to please other people so much. I have two beautiful children. Relative financial stability. I can occasionally say "no" without feeling guilty.

The only thing I really miss from my 20s and 30s?

My perky butt and boobs.

A quick update

2008-12-15T22:05:00.002-05:00

What a month. The delicate life-work balance I have worked to establish has been smashed to bits and I've desperately been careening from one responsibility here (student projects!) to one here (sick child) to one here (new program director) back to this one here (happy kids). I can't say that I'm doing anything well, but I'm doing it.

I have 20 more 30 page projects to grade by Wednesday, a final exam to grade Wednesday night, and course grades to compute on Thursday. I'm sure that something will go wrong and I will be finishing up ten minutes before the deadline Friday morning. Saturday I will be shaking hands at graduation and that gives me Sunday through Wednesday to get Christmas together, clean the house and pack for our visits with families.

Complicating all this is my increasingly bad disc problem. It has certainly affected my productivity. Three epidurals over two months have brought no discernible relief so surgery is in the cards. Today, the surgeon seems shocked that I want to wait until May when school is out, but if I had it just after New Year as he proposed, being able to function at work during the critical time of the new semester would be highly doubtful. Then there is the small problem that my girls share my break so I would be attempting to recover from heavy duty surgery while caring for the girls. Basically, unless I start having motor symptoms, I can just tough it out a few months (using a judicious amount of drugs, of course).

All of this brings me back to the trying to conceive issue. This is my last month trying. I'm in the two week wait and I actually think a negative next week (just in time for my birthday) will be OK given all else going on. In fact, I think we were idiots not to use birth control this time given the spinal issues. J has been receptive to getting a vasectomy and I hope to have him in for that shortly after New Year.

Ah. The medication I was given today finally seems to be making a difference. Bed time.

History

2008-11-04T23:21:00.005-05:00

When I was five, my father woke me to watch Nixon's resignation speech. "This is history," he told me. "I hope you always remember this sad moment in our country's history." And I have.

In a few minutes, I will wake E to watch Obama's speech. "This is history," I will tell her. "I hope you always remember this moment as one of pride and hope." And I believe she will.

Single Parent

2008-10-25T13:17:00.002-04:00

J is out of town for four days. Four days! I know that there are many women out there who are used to doing the single parent thing, but I'm not one of them. As much as I gripe about the division of labor around here, having him gone makes it much more difficult to get anything done.

For instance, this morning as I was attempting to make waffles, Miss M decided that she needed to be held right then (and when I wouldn't pick her up, she clung to my legs so tightly that I couldn't take a step). Because I didn't have anyone to hand her off to or to delegate the waffle making duties to, I actually burned a batch. This infuriated E who proceeded to cry and moan, "that's not how daddy makes them." A glorious start to the day! Miss M is still clingy and E is in full-out whine mode. How long, I wonder, until I am in full-out wine mode?

What have I done?

2008-10-17T22:09:00.005-04:00

About two weeks ago, I was approached about directing a somewhat neglected, but potentially important interdisciplinary program. To be polite, I said I would consider it. I checked in with former program directors and current faculty to get a sense of the program's current state, but I decided it would be way too much work to get the program back on track. Rather than turn the deans down with a slacker's "it is too big a job, too hard," I decided to present them with conditions that would be impossible for them to meet, especially in the current economic climate. I asked for a larger director's stipend for myself along with a six hour course release in order to create and supervise an internship program, a 100 percent increase in the operating budget, and extra money for faculty stipends. Today I met with the deans involved and outlined my conditions. I expected them to say, "Thanks, but we don't have the resources." Instead, they became very excited about internship possibilities, community programming and other initiatives I mentioned.

Just call me madame director.

What have I done? Why couldn't I have channeled my inner Miss M and said, "No! I don't want to do it! No, No, No!"?

My Biggest Worry

2008-10-12T20:46:00.005-04:00

Last week, as all hell broke loose and the stock market imploded, I checked my retirement statement only to learn that a jar buried in my backyard would have been a slightly better place for the money I have invested in my retirement account for the past ten years. But that wasn't my biggest problem. Confirming that the muscle spasms, neck pain and headaches I have been experiencing since July are due to a ruptured disc and that the surgery I had to fix my first ruptured disc probably contributed to the latest problem? A cause for concern. Sure. But not my biggest problem. Learning that I was offered less than a male colleague in the sciences to direct our interdisciplinary environmental studies program? Not my biggest worry.

My biggest worry? Miss M.

Monday
Her week started well enough. On Monday, she flew out of my arms and into her teacher's arms with barely a "Bye, mommy." J picked up the girls after school because I had an appointment with my neurosurgeon to discuss my MRI results and options for my neck.* J basically handed M off to me in the driveway because he had to get E to soccer practice so we didn't have a chance to talk. I noticed that M was being a major crank, but I dismissed it thinking she was just upset that she was not joining her sister for soccer.

Tuesday
I had to stay home the next morning to wait for the cable guy. While waiting, I went through the pile of stuff J had left on the kitchen counter the evening before. The stack included M's daily report from school. Now, when I pick the girls up each day, I read the reports very closely because it helps me interpret their behaviors later in the day. I can only assume that J did not so much as glance at the sheets because when I called and read M's report over the phone, he responded, "Oh shit!"

The report stated that M "had several big tantrums today" with "lots of crying and refusing to stay on her mat" during nap time.

I emailed her teacher to find out if she was having a better day.

Her teacher replied, "So far, so good. Hopefully naptime will be better than yesterday. She actually was removed from the room twice! I'll keep you posted."

Twenty minutes later, I received a second email, "Oh dear, she is having a huge tantrum and refusing to get on her mat. We told her no paci if she isn't on her mat, and she isn't happy at all!!!!! Hopefully, she will give in. Wish us luck. "

And then, "M is still shrieking and having a fit. She is refusing to get on her mat and insists on crawling under the tables, etc.... We are desperate here because she is keeping both classes awake. Any suggestions? Can you come and speak to her? "

I was still waiting on the cable guy, but I threw on some shoes and rushed to campus. M was in the teachers' break room playing calmly when I arrived. "Hi Mommy!" she greeted me. We decided that it was best for me to take her home so she could get checked out by the pediatrician to rule out a physical origin for her behavior such as blocked ear tubes. Fortunately? her ears were fine, but we did receive a diagnosis: TWO.

Wednesday
I decided to observe** her class at naptime. She was wiggly, but one of the graduate students sat near her and she seemed close to sleep. I left to teach my 1:00 class relieved that she was behaving.

Between classes I emailed her teacher:

"I observed the beginning of naptime and was happy that M seemed to be settling down. I hope she'll continue to be good for you."

Two minutes later her teacher replied:

" I just returned to school from across campus, and was informed that M has been screaming since about 1:25. Carol, our nap worker, has had her outside because she refused to stay on her mat and wanted to run around the room. When I walked outside to see her when I returned @ 2:15, she broke into a big smile and thought that she was going to be with me. When I told her that she wasn't coming with me, she started crying again. I was told that she went down okay because Katherine stretched out next to her. Hmmmm....we are at a loss right now. I do know that I'm not going to allow her to get out of the room and be with me because that will be a treat for her (I don't mean to brag). Any ideas?"

As if.

I met the teacher a bit later. Basically, the only thing M could have done to be more disruptive would have been to fling poo.

Thursday
J and I decided that we would BOTH observe naptime. I couldn't get there in time to see the beginning, but J was taking notes.

12:23 Entered room and washed hands.
12:25 On mat. Fidgeting.
Etc.

This time M's teacher sat near her but didn't tell M to get back on the mat and didn't take her paci away for being off the mat. Instead, M played a game of chicken, keeping one part of her body in contact with the mat, but most of her body off the mat. She flopped around the mat, circumnavigating it twice. She did yoga poses with one foot or one hand on the mat. She twirled her teddy bear in the air above the mat. At one point, she stretched her legs and put them on the mat of another child. Then she put her feet on his head. The teacher stepped in at that point, moving M away from her sleeping classmate, but not saying anything. Finally, forty minutes into naptime, she drifted off, head and shoulders on the mat, torso and legs off the mat.

Friday
I observed naptime again. She went to sleep. On the mat. Phew!

I think maybe I have had a glimpse of the future here. Where E is eager to please (teachers at least), M is a bit more willful and defiant. In the future, when I get calls from the school, I will have to assume they are calling about M. It is probably M who I will worry about sneaking out, riding a motorcycle without a helmet, and experimenting with who knows what.

Of course, there is a bright side here. It has taken me almost 40 years to get to the point where I don't feel like I have to be the "good girl" or say yes to things I would prefer not do, or feel free to disagree with others. M seems to be well on her way.

*epidurals, massage and physical therapy for now
**this is a demonstration school so they have observation rooms with one-way glass

Another birthday party

2008-09-20T11:19:00.004-04:00

I have about 24 hours to clean the house and prepare for a double birthday party for the girls. This is the family party. Only grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and a friend I've known since I was 11 are invited. The real birthday parties, the ones for social acquaintances and people who don't know just how fucked up my family is, are separate events. I learned the hard way two years ago that my family and the outside world do not mix. My father, who is mentally ill but completely oblivious to this, sat in his convertible Miata the entire party chain smoking. This wouldn't have been a big deal if his car weren't parked smack in front of my house and if my mother hadn't lost her cool a few times and loudly exclaimed to anyone she could corner that she was SO EMBARRASSED and that he was JUST SO HARD TO LIVE WITH. Meanwhile, my conservative brother was baiting my peacenik father-in-law about Iraq and other fun party topics. I think my bartender turned truck driver turned salesman turned bartender brother may have arrived during the last ten minutes of the party because I remember my mother loudly exclaimed HE IS JUST LIKE HIS FATHER.

Anyway, after that little fiasco, I decided that a separate family party was the way to go. So now we have three parties. One for M, one for E, and one for the crazies. The downside of this is is having to prepare for three parties (though E's party will be at the Children's Museum next week so no housecleaning necessary). I wish I could say that my house just needed a little vacuuming and a little dusting to be ready for guests, but it needs deep cleaning. That is how slack I have been the past two weeks. In order to do emergency cleaning, I have to clear toys and papers and books and mail and other clutter. In order to decutter, I have to find somewhere to stash the clutter.

I've told J that he has to take the girls away this afternoon for at least two hours so I can clean (for some reason I am unable to clean when they are present). I'm going to power up my iPOD and get through this as quickly as possible. I'm also calling a friend to see if she wants to go out after the children are in bed tonight. I think a pre-family drink will do me some good.

Due Date

2008-09-12T22:09:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow, September 13 would have been the due date for the pregnancy I lost last winter. I didn't think it would bother me, but the lingering sadness that I have experienced over the last few months seems a little sharper today and my mind keeps wandering to what might have been. What would the baby look like? How would the baby feel like in my arms? Would E and M be happy to have another baby in the house?

I have the sense that our days of trying to conceive are extremely limited. We can't try this month because I need an MRI next week to help diagnose some upper right quadrant pain I have been experiencing since my more recent miscarriage* Because of childcare and work issues,** the timing would have to be quick, probably by my birthday in December. Then, there is the issue of that birthday. 40. I know it is just a number, but it is still a milestone. And,oh, did I mention my sucky eggs?

*Ultrasound suggests a stone in the bile duct.
**Our department chair is going to step down next year and colleagues are lobbying me hard to at least consider being the next chair. I'm not wild about it, but I'm obviously not rejecting the idea outright either.

Day Eight-Virus Time

2008-09-08T20:09:00.002-04:00

It took only seven days back in preschool with all the other little disease vectors for both of my girls came down with runny noses, scratchy throats, and surly dispositions.

Still, having the girls back in preschool is wonderful. They are both much happier (less bored anyway) and are tired at night. Last year, we had moved M whose birthday falls near the cutoff to the older class. We did this because the next oldest child was three months younger and because E is a very big kid who is tall and solid like her dad's side of the family. While she did well in the class academically, she never seemed to gel with her classmates and most often played alone. After much hand wringing and agonizing (social development or academic development?), we decided to keep her back with the younger group this year in hopes that she would be better off socially. I haven't had a chance to speak with her teacher yet, but she tells me that she played with her friends today so I guess that is a good sign.

M seems to be transitioning to the new center with few problems. it probably helps that her big sister is in the next room* and that they see one another on the playground. She loves painting and singing and playing in the kitchen station of her classroom. Sometimes, when I have a few minutes free, I watch her through the one-way mirror in her class. The other day, I couldn't help but to laugh as she followed the master teacher around asking, "What's this called?" as she pulled out every item from the classroom treasure box.

Update: I'm making halting progress in my push to get my act together. Having a hurricane day for Hanna followed by this virus (my version seems to be worse than what the girls had and I had to take a day off today) hasn't helped, but I know I can make it up.

*E is the oldest in the three-year-old class and M is the youngest in the two-year-old class.

Day Three

2008-09-03T21:05:00.004-04:00

My house is a wreck, I almost let my flood insurance lapse, and I've made no progress on papers, weight loss, or anything else I boldly announced I would be working on this month. And yet, I'm in a jolly good mood. Why? Sarah Palin. Oh thank you, John McCain, thank you. With the Alaskan branch of the Spears family to keep me entertained for the next two months, I am positively giddy. If they stick around longer than early November, expect a precipitous drop in my mood.

Day Two

2008-09-02T21:36:00.002-04:00

Last night at 10:03 p.m., I pulled out our homeowners and flood insurance policies in case we get hit by Hannah as forecast. It was then that I noticed that our flood policy was set to expire less than two hours later at 12:01 a.m. on September 2, 2008. Much cursing followed. The last thing I want when faced by a tropical system is to be without flood insurance. Actually, the last thing I want is for J to find out that I forgot to pay the flood insurance premium.

I ended up calling State Farm which helpfully has people working around the clock. I was able to pay on-line less than an hour before the policy was set to expire.

On the bright side, if I hadn't designated this "get-my-act-together-month," I probably wouldn't have pulled the policies out until the rain was blowing sideways and the trees were snapping around us.

Day One

2008-09-01T20:26:00.004-04:00

I've decided that this is the month I get my act together. You know the drill. Lose five pounds, make long overdue doctor appointments, get a paper out, clean my baseboards, socialize with my friends more often. . .

It is no accident that this new resolve coincides with both of my girls being back in preschool after three long months at home. Maybe this is wrong to admit, but even with a part-time sitter, I thought I would lose my mind this summer. It is too hot in SC to be outside much in July and August so we were indoor bound much of the time, bored and cranky to boot.

Take two cranky toddlers, stir in one miscarriage and top with a week spent with in-laws and you get an irritable, cursing, impatient mom. It wasn't pretty, and I'm not proud, but I never said I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. Now, after just four days of full-time care at the same preschool,* I am feeling much more patient and optimistic. I'm also feeling more competent because my college students seem to take me more seriously than my children and because my colleagues don't whine. . . much.

Here are a few pictures of M at her birthday party** last weekend.

*M just made the two year old cutoff. Cue triumphal music and choir of angels.
**We finally decided not to go overboard and only invited two other children. It was the best party ever!

Vacation?

2008-08-14T22:56:00.004-04:00

We are leaving for the mountains tomorrow. I was looking forward to the trip until I realized that my in-laws would be with us slightly over half of the time we will be there. Now, this is their new mountain house and I can't very well say, "no, we want to be alone," but at the same time, my mother-in-law told us that we could have the house to ourselves whenever we wanted so I was looking forward to some downtime. Somehow one night with them present has become three.

So J and I are having a disagreement. I say it isn't a vacation if in-laws are present. My reasoning: I can't wander around in my pjs, I have to be on guard as to what I say, and I have to plan meals and mealtimes around them. NOT a vacation. J says it is a vacation because we are away. If we invited my parents, I am guessing he would feel differently.

Time for sightseeing

2008-08-03T15:53:00.002-04:00

I finished interviewing candidates a little while ago. In all, we met with 23 new or soon-to-be Ph.Ds. A few were very, very good. A few were very, very bad*. Most fell somewhere in the middle.

Now it is time for a little sightseeing. I just came back to my hotel, changed into shorts and walking shoes, and . . . .watched as clouds enveloped the city and rain began to fall. Shoot. Hopefully, this will be a short lasting downpour.

In the meantime, I'll look through my Boston guide and try to decide what sort of small gifts to get the girls. E, who is nearly four, is VERY aware that the departure of a parent means a gift upon return. In fact, rather than get upset that I would be gone for four days, she grinned as I left the house and called out, "I want a present, Mommy."

Ha! The sun is breaking through the clouds. Time to be a tourist.

*One candidate would not look me in the eye. Each time I would address him, his would turn his body away from me and stare across the interview hall. The other two interviewers from my institution noticed, too. Very, very strange.

Wheels up

2008-08-01T09:43:00.001-04:00

I’m sitting in the airport waiting to board the first of my two flights to Boston. The woman on the PA just helpfully informed us that we are on “orange alert.” Whatever.

I resisted this trip. I really didn’t want to leave my girls for a conference. But as program director, I was told, “you have to be there,” so I dutifully packed, filled out my TA and now I’m nearly on my way. I’m not presenting my work on this trip. Instead, I am interviewing 24 people for an assistant professor position. I think 20-24 is obscene, but that is what the committee decided and who am I to argue? It will be like speed dating. With nerds. We already have their vitas, but this will tell us if candidates have necessary social skills to be a colleague who won’t drive us to despair and infighting and gnashing of teeth and wailing and backstabbing and all the other behaviors that we frequently witness from less couth departments. After the meetings, we’ll invite the candidates we liked to apply for the position and hope that the money we spend screening pays off.

Our decision to pour resources into these screening interviews stems from one interview a few years ago in which the candidate wore a Breathe Right nasal strip the entire interview and snorted loudly at odd times. During his teaching demonstration, he made a comment about a colleague’s ass. Later, at a department social gathering held at the home of a colleague, he railed against the evils of tract housing, in her tract house. For his job “talk” he picked up a local rag and just started blabbering nonsensically. We did not hire him, but his interview made us much more sensitive to the fact that while you can study society, you don’t necessarily belong in it. We also learned that a nice vita and good letters mean nothing.

So, here I go. Three days. 24 candidates and no idea how I will tell them apart. They all look alike-- so new and sparkly. I’ve been a professor for ten years, and I am far enough removed from my grad school days that I now find grad students to be kind of cute in that earnest, untested and as of yet unembittered-by-politics-and-the-realization-that-you-are-never-ever-going-to-get-rich-doing-this kind of way.

I’m hoping I’ll find ten minutes here and there for sightseeing. I miss my girls already.

Reconsideration

2008-07-27T17:52:00.002-04:00

Remember when I said that my recent pregnancy would be my last pregnancy no matter what happened? Am I crazy for reconsidering?

Even as I was coming out of anesthesia, I was telling the nurse that I just didn't feel like we were done. In the five days since the D&C, I've been thinking about it a lot, and I'm not sure if I am quite ready to throw in the towel. I posted a message about this on SIRM's bulletin boards, and Dr. S replied that back to back anembryonic pregnancies were bad luck and reflected declining egg quality, but were seldom due to other conditions. He said that 1 in 6 eggs is good in the typical 39 year old so conception is often a matter of catching a golden egg. If that 39 year old ovulates regularly, then she should ovulate a good egg twice a year if she falls on the good side of the odds.

I'm not much of a gambler, but I think we are going to roll the dice a few more times.

Then and Now

2008-07-23T14:05:00.002-04:00

When I miscarried in February, I felt surprise and dismay.

This week, I had steeled myself for the worst, but still had that moment of stomach sinking horror when I saw the empty orb on the screen.

Then, I had allowed myself to start planning. . . the girls would have to move into the same room. We would need a trundle bed. We would probably need a van. I called and put our name on the daycare list. I freaked about money. I imagined what a good big sister M would be and what a great helper E would be.

This time, I tried not to think ahead. I had a few moments, of course, like when I googled about car and booster seat combos and Honda Civics, but I tried not to go there yet.

Then, I didn't want to disrupt my school schedule or my children's schedules by taking a whole weekday for a surgical procedure and opted, instead, for an office procedure. Of course, I paid for that by hemorrhaging and requiring emergency surgery.

This time, I opted for the next surgical appointment available and figured we would work something out for J's work and the children's care. It worked out.

Then, I felt like it was just a genetic fluke and that I would certainly end up on the right side of the statistics the next time.

This time, I feel defective. Something is wrong with me. I don't make babies anymore, I make sacs. Beautiful empty sacs. It sends me right back to the high FSH diagnosis with the less than one percent chance of conception prognosis.

Then, I felt empty and sad. Now. . . I guess some things don't change.

Thanks for your lovely messages to my last post. They've been a source of comfort.

Another blighted ovum

2008-07-21T10:12:00.002-04:00

I think my eggs must be cooked. This morning's ultrasound showed a beautiful sac measuring right on target, but no baby. D&C is tomorrow morning.

Blah

2008-07-09T09:47:00.004-04:00

Last night I dreamed that J had been offered a great new job, one that pays almost $40k more than his current one. I was so, so, so happy! I spent that dream money on childcare, home improvements and a visit to the Mouse.

Then I woke up. Bummer.

I got out of bed (there was a certain almost-4-year-old poking me, saying " Mommy I'm hungry, Mommy, I'm hungry, Mommy, I'm hungry," over and over and over again until I had no choice but to bolt from the bed lest I start bashing my head on the headboard). I walked into the kitchen only to realize that J had not lifted a finger to clean the kitchen before he went to bed last night. Normally, I am the one who stays up late, sweeps the floors, clears the counters and otherwise makes things look inviting for the next day, but I was very tired last night and went to bed early. Plus, J had come home late and created a new mess after I had cleared the dinner mess from the girls and myself. I expected that he would be the one to straighten up. Bastard. Waking to a messy kitchen just sets the wrong tone for the day.

Next came the phone call from J at 8:45 as he was being pulled over by the police. Apparently, we neglected to pay his car taxes when they were due back in, oh . . . April. I quickly paid them on-line during the traffic stop, but now he has a court date to see if the judge will dismiss or reduce the fine.

As I was leaving the house, my summer nanny* looked at me and said, "I need to talk to you about picking up more hours when you get home this afternoon." When I hired her, we agreed on 20-25 hours a week this summer, but I guess she wants closer to 25 hours (I have been doing 20 hours now that I am out of summer school). I was hoping to save the extra $300 or so a month, but I guess I'll be rethinking that now. Must keep her happy.

Finally, I am having serious nagging doubts about this pregnancy. I want more symptoms, damn it. Except for the fatigue and cramps, I don't have any pregnancy symptoms. I suppose that is normal for 5.5 weeks, but I don't know how I am going to make it to the first ultrasound.

So, my day is not off to a good start. I am tempted to ditch the office and take a long walk by the waterfront to see if it improves my mood. The weather report said that the humidity is way down to 71% today so it might even be pleasant out there.

*E's school is on break until the end of August so I took M out of daycare and they are both home for the summer. Their nanny is with them part-time so I can work.

126

2008-07-01T17:19:00.003-04:00

My beta went from 13.5 to 126 in 90 hours. I think that is still a little low for 16 dpo, but it was better than I had hoped for. First ultrasound is in three weeks.

Beta Hell

2008-06-30T19:13:00.002-04:00

My beta on Friday was a whopping 13.5. Ugh. On the bright side, we know that First Response is VERY sensitive. The nurse called today and sounded skeptical that this pregnancy will be viable. The doctor (who I have never met) wants another beta and a progesterone tomorrow to see what is happening. I've been doing my own pee-on-a-stick beta monitoring and while the lines are darker than they were on Friday, they aren't all that impressive. Whatever happens, I'll be OK, but I hate having to wait until Wednesday for my next beta results.

What? I can't booze it up anymore?

2008-06-29T13:11:00.003-04:00

Last night I attended a divorce party for a friend I work with. We had been looking forward to this for months as it was a nasty divorce and it had taken its toll on my friend who lost her entire retirement to her intermittently employed slack-ass ex-husband. She had carefully planned the party--penis pasta*, a divorce cake complete with the bride pushing the groom off the cake, disco ball, and alcohol, lots of alcohol. It was a good time, a celebration of a milestone, that, while sad, marks the passage to what has to be a happier time.

J knew I was looking forward to this, but last night as I was walking to my car he stopped me. "Promise me you won't drink. I know there will be a lot of alcohol flowing."

I should be offended, right? I mean, I am not an idiot. Plus, I'm hardly a boozer, even when not pregnant. A glass of wine a couple of times a month is my speed. I didn't have as much as a sip of wine while pregnant with E and I think I may have had a sip of champagne for a toast at a wedding while pregnant with M. So, obviously, his suspicions were well-founded.

I'm tempted to pour all of J's beer down the drain tonight and then act guilty about my "bender" tomorrow. Or make some penis pasta for tonight's meal.

*Delicious!

The last pregnancy

2008-06-27T21:27:00.004-04:00

I didn't realize that I hadn't posted in more than a month. I think it will take a month's worth of daily posting to catch up with everything, but tonight, I bring to you the most important news:
I seem to be pregnant again. I tested this morning and, while the line is light, it is there, and I don't even need my glasses to see it.*

Poor J. I am not one of those wives who wraps the stick in a box and presents it lovingly for a memorable gift over a beautiful dinner. Nor am I the clever wife who buys two onesies, one pink and one blue, and allows my husband to find out gently and memorably. Oh no, I am the wife who stands over her still sleeping husband insisting, "I need you to see something NOW," and thrusts a test stick in his hands with a "How many lines do you see?"

This will be my last pregnancy no matter how it turns out. I'm just getting too old for it.** Of course, I am hoping for the best and trying to get my ducks in a row. First duck: beta. My obstetrician moved away earlier this month, so I am on the hunt for someone new. Calling for a beta when you are not an established patient is no easy task. That didn't stop me from pissing off a nurse in his old practice and pestering her until she ordered a beta for me. Of course, she didn't call me back with the result, so I won't know that until Monday. This means that I will be studying hpts very carefully for the next few days to be sure the test line is getting darker.

Let the games begin. . .

*Somewhere in the last month or two I have become VERY dependent on my reading glasses. Aging is a bitch.
**I don't think 40 is too old for a baby, but I'm feeling old. And blind.

My Six Quirks

2008-05-17T20:42:00.006-04:00

I took the plunge and answered OvaGirl's plea for readers to sign up for this meme.

I'm not sure that it was entirely wise for me to volunteer. The more I think on it, the more I realize that there is a fine line between "quirky" behavior and pathological behavior.

1. Lists
I can't function without lists. Sure, everyone uses a list for the grocery store, but I use lists to structure my day. I hesitate to call myself hopeless, but I do not accomplish much without lists. As an example, I offer today's list:

--Go to gym (take girls to jump castle after workout)
--Buy new stamps at post office
--Buy bananas/ strawberries at Food Lion
--Make lunch for girls (pb&j? peas and chicken?)
--Early naps for girls
--Wrap birthday present
--Take girls to party
--Go to furniture store to order new chairs (don't forget coupon!)
--Clean pantry
--Plan grocery list for Sunday shopping

This list was fairly tame since it is a weekend. My weekday lists are insane because they combine domestic and professional items (e.g. clean bathtub; write executive summary of needs assessment findings; look up things that turn toddler poop purple*) . The sad thing is that, without my list, I probably would not be very productive. I'm certain that without my list I would not have gotten stamps, shopped for fruit or remembered the big furniture sale. I do think I would have made it to the gym (free babysitting!) and the birthday party though.

2. Love Hotels; Hate Staying in Homes
We don't travel as much as we did before the girls arrived, but when we do, I much prefer staying in hotels to staying in the homes of friends or family (no matter how lovely they are). Staying in someone's home is always a disaster for me. I can't relax; the bed or air mattress is uncomfortable; the room is too hot, too cold, too stuffy, too light, too loud, or some combination; the room comes with a cat and a stinky litter box; the room comes with a dog**, etc. We nearly always stay in a hotel now. It helps that we have a gazillion Hilton Honors points because we charge everything to that credit card and pay off the balance each month.

3. I Won't Eat What I Can't or Won't Kill
In 1990 or 1991, I was cooking chicken for J (yes we have been together 18 years this summer) and I was suddenly repulsed by the dead flesh I was handling. For the first time, it hit me that this was a formerly alive chicken. I served it to J, but did not partake. I haven't had chicken since. Nor have I had beef or pork. I set one simple rule for myself: I would not eat what I was not willing to kill. I could never kill a chicken, or cow, or pig. Fortunately, given my location on the coast, I have learned that I am willing to kill shrimp or at least pull off their heads after they have expired. I have also been able to collect and cook oysters.

4. I Could Get Lost in a Bathtub
I have almost no sense of direction. Once, when planning a seven mile run, I ended up running 12-13 miles because I turned onto a wrong street and did not notice my mistake for several miles. Another time, I got lost in southeast Washington, DC, which, if you know anything about DC, was not a good thing at all. Although we have lived in this city for nearly ten years, I still manage to get well and truly lost at least once a month.

As it turns out, I do have an excellent memory and can remember birthdays and phone numbers of childhood friends that I haven't seen in 25 years. J has no such memory and barely remembers my birthday and anniversary though they both fall on or near major holidays. If our daughters get his sense of direction and my ability to remember dates, they will be oriented in time and space and will go far. If they get my sense of direction and his sense of time, they will be lost and stupid. It gives us pause.

5. I Can't Sleep without White Noise
I have to have a fan running in order to sleep. It can't be just any fan. It has to be loud enough and the pitch and frequency have to be just right. If not, I toss and turn and experience terrible insomnia. White noise machines generally don't do it for me, but I did find this little gem for my recent conference. Positioned about 10 inches from my head, it worked perfectly.

6. I Buy a Lottery Ticket Each Week
I know it is wrong! wrong! wrong!*** that my dream home, dream retirement, and dream life plans are based upon receiving a huge inheritance from a wealthy mystery relative or from being the lucky owner of the winning Powerball ticket. That doesn't stop me from plunking down $2 each week (one for each drawing) to keep the dream alive.

Hoorah! I found six quirks and J assures me that there are more, many more. Have to run. Powerball drawing is in twenty minutes, after all.

*Crayola
**Who snores.
***I teach statistics, afterall!

Mother's Day

2008-05-11T20:51:00.007-04:00

I'm not a big fan of Mother's Day (which I would not be at all surprised to learn is the evil invention of Hallmark and the floral industry). The holiday--and others like it (don't get me started on administrative assistant's day)--are just sappy over-commercialized stress generators, particularly for J who invariably seems stricken in the days preceding any given holiday.

Of course, my distaste for manufactured holidays did not stop me from taking J up on his offer of letting me sleep past 6:30. Nor did it stop me from enjoying the card he presented that had been me "signed" by both girls.

The Front: Motherhood summarized
The Inside: It's hard

And motherhood is hard. It is a slog--much tougher than anything I could have imagined six years ago when the ticking of my biological clock was too loud to ignore any longer.

But, of course, I can't imagine it any other way. I was reminded of that this week when E made a picture of the family that touched me more than any Hallmark card ever could. In her picture, the four of us are are standing in the sun. "This is my family," she tells me proudly, "This is Daddy and Mama and me and M."*

*Notice she has put a frowny face on her little sister for extra authenticity. Also notice that she proudly signed it (the last letter is a "Y").

Conflicted no more

2008-05-07T11:09:00.003-04:00

On Friday, I tested with one of my cheap, internet pregnancy tests. To my surprise, there was a faint second girly-pinky-purplish line. I was, of course, wary of the cheap test, so I went to Target and bought expensive tests. Saturday morning, I tested again, this time with the expensive brand. It was negative. Very negative. No amount of squinting, holding it to the light, turning it just so, or retrieving it from the trashcan just to take another look was going to make a second line appear. I repeated the exercise with another internet cheapie and it was equally negative. My period started in the wee hours of the next morning.

So, I'm not pregnant, but judging from how many times I dug through the trash to fish out the faintly positive test and then the very negative tests, I'm not ready to give up on it just yet. Despite the fears about finances and energy, I still feel like our little family could do with one more. And J seems to agree. Last week, when I suggested that we might be at the end of our family expansion, he looked pained and said, "I hear that adding a third isn't nearly as hard as adding a second." Tell that to my ovaries, buddy.

The last six years of my life have been centered around trying to conceive. RE visits, Clomid, Femara, injections, suppositories, IUIs, FSH from hell, the frantic search for cm during natural cycles, charting, analyzing every twinge, sex during LH surges, worrying, and worrying more. I'm done with that.

So, yes, we will continue to try, but I think we are also going to live a little. It is time for a kinder gentler trying, one that includes wine, soft cheese and caffeine, all in moderation, even through the dreadful two-week-wait. I'll still use ovulation kits and probably chart to confirm ovulation since my RE and OB have agreed that I need progesterone support, but that is it.

I'll probably be a madwoman in a few weeks, but right now I feel pretty peaceful about our new approach.

Conflicted

2008-05-01T09:39:00.003-04:00

I tested this morning and it was negative. I suppose I should feel relieved after last night's second thoughts, but I felt the way I always do when faced with the snowy white test: disappointed and sad. I'm not entirely sure of what I want right now. When did I become this indecisive?

Second thoughts

2008-04-30T22:12:00.003-04:00

9 days past ovulation on a textbook cycle probably isn't the best time to be second-guessing whether one wants another child. Yet that is exactly what I am doing.

I'm thinking that having two is already lively.
I'm thinking that with three we would be outnumbered. And need a mini-van. That guzzles gas.
I'm thinking that we are already feeling the financial pinch of stagnant wages, high childcare costs, and inflation. How on earth can we be thinking about adding more expenses to the equation?
I'm thinking that botox/ microdermabrasion/ line filler might be a good fortieth birthday gift to self.
I'm thinking that my colleagues will not be pleased to have me working part-time for another semester.
I'm thinking that if we add a third child, my environmental studies students won't take me seriously.
I'm thinking that I've just started running again and I'm enjoying it. Maybe it is time to train for a marathon or half marathon.
I'm thinking that maybe this should be our last cycle trying to create my ideal family of five.

It isn't as if these second thoughts are completely new. . . when the second line appeared on my pregnancy test in January, my initial "two lines!" thrill was followed, without pause, by "Oh my god, oh my god." And this wasn't an "Oh my god, this is wonderful!" It was more of an "Oh my god, what have I done?"

Still, for four weeks, until I knew the sac was empty, I calculated and plotted and planned and decided that yes! we could definitely handle this. So when the pregnancy ended, I ordered ovulation tests and preseed and waited anxiously for my next cycle to start.

Here I am two cycles later with a major case of cold feet. Suddenly, I'm wondering if my push to have a third child had more to do with my infertility history than with what is best for my family. [Fuck you infertility! I can reproduce if I damn-well please.]

I had a pregnancy dream two nights ago that was similar to the dreams I had before discovering I was pregnant with Baby M and then with The Sac. I'm having major cramps that are similar to my early pregnancy cramping (in all fairness, these are also similar to menstrual cramps).

I'll probably test tomorrow morning. It is a bit early, but I feel the need to pee on a stick (which I have lots of because I ordered in bulk after my D&C).

34.5

2008-04-10T20:22:00.005-04:00

That is how many hours I've been away from my girls. I miss them, but waking up at 8 a.m. was a dream. A dream I say! Still, I'll be glad to get home Saturday night.

Here is what I am missing:

Writing from a remote location

2008-04-09T22:14:00.005-04:00

I've been too busy to post or read blogs, plus my iBook had to go back to the good folks at Apple, so it has been a while.

I don't have anything exciting to report. I seem to have recovered, from my two D & C procedures, but my hormones seem to be out of whack and I'm far from confident that we'll be able to conceive again. I started wheat grass pills this week (supposed to be good for fertility) and I ordered preseed*, but otherwise my health habits have been crap. I haven't been getting enough sleep, and my stress levels have been up there and I gained back all the weight I lost in the Fall.**

I took a train to Richmond, Va. today to attend a conference. I hate driving and found it to be a mostly pleasant way to travel, especially since it gave me time to finish the paper I will be presenting Friday morning. As we were boarding in Charleston, I noticed that several people had little coolers with them. I thought it odd since there is a dining car on the train. However, when I visited the dining car, I realized that the cooler bearers were veteran train passengers who are already familiar with the generally crappy dining car menu. Still, going hungry was a small price to pay for not having to drive and for finding time to finish the paper.

This is my first time away from Baby M and the longest time I've been away from Little E. I must confess that I shed a few tears at the train station as I kissed them goodbye. And yet, it was time. I know it was. Though I have been trying to get Baby M completely weaned since her first birthday in August, she is still nursing for about a minute--right boob only thank you very much--just before bed. This extended absence should spell the end of that. If this goes as I have planned, then last night should go down in history as our last nursing session. I am sad about it, but relieved at the same time.

The nicest thing about being away is that I will get to sleep in tonight. Actual sleep. No little one crawling into bed at 4 a.m. and stealing my covers, no dogs scratching at the back door, no 4 a.m. early wake-ups. I am about to get some honest to goodness sleep. If my hotel neighbors get loud, there is going to be trouble. Big trouble.

*We used it the cycle we conceived Baby M.
**I have A PLAN to deal with this. More on that next post.

What I don't like about daycare

2008-02-24T21:30:00.002-05:00

Overall, we have been very happy with daycare/preschool. There are no nanny dramas, it is relatively affordable* and the socialization is good. With daycare, I don't worry that a caretaker is going to have a bad day and take it out on my child, and I don't worry about what to do when a nanny gets sick, has a personal crisis, or decides it is time to move on.

However, the last month (known hereafter as THE-MONTH-OF-SNOT-FEVER-AND-BARF-AND-MULTIPLE-D&Cs) has illustrated the one important shortcoming of group care: there is no care when the child is too sick for school. Until now, this has occasionally been inconvenient, but not devastating. The last four weeks have changed things, though.

Baby M has been sick a lot. First, it was the flu for a week. Shortly thereafter it was a stomach virus. She and her sister (who had by this time caught the flu) were home another week and a half. Then, after returning to school for only three days, Baby M caught another flu-like illness that had her out an additional three days.

If you are trying to do the math, we have had one or both children home for most of the last four weeks and the results have not been pretty. I'm behind at work, J is behind at work, the house is a mess (because we have been trying to work while tending to sick children), and tempers are short. I only missed one day of classes during all this, but I missed some rather important committee meetings and my students haven't had much access to me. My conference presentation on the 15th was rather so-so and I've not started my paper for my April conference (though the data analysis is mostly complete).

Tonight, I came close to a meltdown upon realizing that Baby M was running a fever of 101 again. However, her crankiness through much of the day left me suspicious that this might be an earache, and sure enough, her ear started draining tonight. The beauty of tubes is that we can just treat her with Motrin and antibiotic ear drops and she is usually fine within 12 hours. Hopefully, we will all go to work and school tomorrow and make it until Friday, the start of Spring Break.

One thing I am going to work on during Spring Break is coming up with a much better system for handling sick children and work. We have no family here so we don't have that sort of backup system. I wonder how other parents manage?

*If I could have afforded it, we would have started Baby M in group care a bit later, at 18-24 months like her big sister, but we had been through our savings for nanny care by the time she was born.

Best Laid Plans

2008-02-10T18:13:00.000-05:00

Monday

The Plan: D&C at OB's office ; Recover at home while watching The Wire

Reality: D&C at OB's office ; Recover at home while watching The Wire

Tuesday

The Plan: Teach courses, write tests and quizzes for week, take a mid afternoon walk to deliver books and stretch legs.

Reality: Teach courses, write tests and quizzes for week, have walk interrupted by call from Baby M's center. Baby M is vomiting. Run back to car. Leave frantic messages on J's cell in case he is closer. Get Baby M. Take home. Get vomited on twice (it is me or the rugs and I am easier to clean). Take shower twice. Trail Baby M with towels and catch next five retching episodes. Rugs OK. Watch J walk in door with Little E. Inform him that Baby M is in bad shape. Watch in disbelief as J leaves to go to the the track because his Tuesday run is "very important" to him. Stew.

Wednesday

The Plan: Go to office and work on conference presentation; contact caterers for undergraduate conference I am chairing; go to gym.

Reality: Stay home with Baby M who is no longer vomiting, but who is having issues at the other end. Attempt to entertain Baby M and work on aforementioned presentation. Get call from Little E's teacher. Little E is lethargic, running a temperature of 104 and complaining of headache. Call J who is able to get her. Go downtown after hours to pick up tests and quizzes. Realize that student worker only copied ten tests because I neglected to tell her how many to copy. Curse. Loudly. Copy 80 tests and quizzes. Go home. Bathe children. Stay up all night with Little E who is miserable.

Thursday

The Plan: Give tests and quizzes; present research to my faculty committee; meet with independent studies student.

Reality: Take Little E to doctor where she tests positive for flu (despite having had the flu shot). Hand her off to J who had stayed home with M who is vomiting again. Get to school late for first quiz. Give test to second class. Get very annoyed because one idiot freshman takes an extra 15 minutes on test. Call chair of committee and tell her to put me on the agenda for the next meeting. Go fill Little E's prescription for Tamiflu. Tell J to give her the Tamiflu before he leaves for work. Watch J force liquid down her throat. Watch E vomit on him. Laugh. Am treated with silent treatment for the rest of the day.

Friday

The Plan: Arrive at office early, polish conference presentation; finish travel grant; clean deask; have lunch with friends; grade quizzes and tests.

Reality: Stay home with sick children AND sick husband (who has caught the stomach thing). Change diapers too foul to discuss. Listen to children and husband whine. Contemplate running away. Notice that own post D&C cramping is getting uncomfortable.

Saturday

The Plan: Go shopping for fabulous boots; clean house; declutter 15 minutes; relax

Reality: Children and husband still ill. Own cramps becoming nearly unbearable. Light bleeding turns heavy, turns to near hemorrhage. Pass golf ball to fist size clots. Call doctor and am told to go to Labor and Delivery. Am dropped at hospital by J and sick children. Call L, my oldest friend, and ask for a ride home for later. Sudden gush of blood gets me to front of line and I am admitted. Call L to tell her to take her time as I will probably need surgery. Ultrasound confirms "junk" in uterus. Am prepped for proper D&C. L arrives and we laugh and catch up as we wait for OR. Best time I have had in a week. Finally wheeled into OR. South American doctor with lovely accent gives me "medicine so you won't care." Informed after surgery that the pregnancy was possibly molar. Too blissed out from drugs to be concerned. L finally takes me home 7.5 hours after I was admitted. Realize this was the first night that I haven't nursed Baby M at bedtime. Too medicated to care.

Sunday

The Plan: Screw it. I'm over planning.

Glad it is over

2008-02-04T16:05:00.000-05:00

After my Friday freak out, I was OK again; I just needed to get it out of my system. By Saturday, I was looking ahead and I even ordered 50 OPK sticks from one of the cheap Internet sites. I almost ordered pregnancy tests, too, but I didn't want to jinx myself.

My procedure was today at 1 p.m. It hurt, and I wouldn't care to repeat it, but the nurses and doctor were very compassionate (for people who clamp your cervix, inject it, jam a catheter into your uterus, and then apply suction). They let J sit with me and hold my hand which was comforting. They sent the tissue t pathology, but I told them that chromosomal analysis was unnecessary. I mean, we know something went wrong, but I don't see any point in knowing what particular genetic accident may have occurred.

I'm cramping badly now, but I have just taken a Valium, a percocet, and some ibuprofen (all sanctioned by the OB) so I should be feeling better soon. J has gone to pick up the girls, and I am going to head upstairs to hide out for a bit. A generous friend is bringing dinner by later. Her kindness is a salve.

While the sadness is still there, I am mainly feeling relieved to have this behind me. I'm looking forward to losing the three to four pounds I gained over the last eight weeks and I'm looking forward to drinking margaritas this weekend. As soon as I start cycling again, we'll give it another go. If it works, great. If not, I have two beautiful daughters, and I am truly thankful for that.

Wuss

2008-02-01T20:50:00.000-05:00

I'm a wuss.

Despite the doomed pregnancy, I functioned fairly normally all week. I taught my classes, attended one semi-contentious department meeting, advised, worked on a conference presentation, wrote my self-evaluation* and cared for my family. The pregnancy was always on my mind, of course, but I didn't allow myself to be completely distracted by it. Emotionally, I was strong.

That changed this afternoon after my appointment to confirm the blighted ovum. While the sac grew some since last Friday, it was still empty, a black hole in my uterus. I didn't expect a baby to suddenly appear, but when the ultrasound confirmed the diagnosis, I was shaken: There is knowing and then there is knowing.

The OB and I discussed my options. Seeing as how what goes in must come out, something needs to be done lest I am surprised one day in the middle of teaching, or while caring for my children alone, or while out of town at a conference, by a natural miscarriage. That won't do.

After reading a ton of negative Cytotec posts on internet message boards and after talking to a friend who had used Cytotec only to need a follow-up D&C, I decided that being knocked out for a pain-free D&C would be my best option. However, we hit a snag-- my OB and I have incompatible schedules. His surgery days next week are my class and meeting days. Missing would require a very, very good excuse, but I can't think of one. ** I could wait, but emotionally, I need this behind me, plus there is that small problem of an unscheduled miscarriage in middle of something important.

He suggested, instead, that I have an office procedure on Monday in which he will numb my cervix*** and use a vacuum to evacuate the uterus. I agreed to it, just to get this over. The fun part is that I will be totally awake and aware for it. He gave me a prescription for 5 mg of Valium to "take the edge off," but I don't think that is going to help much. In the past (before my spinal surgery), it has taken a much higher dose of Valium to even make me drowsy.

I asked about pain and the OB said that I will feel strong cramping, but that it will be over quickly and to take 800mg of ibuprofen. As if that is going to help. They are going to hoover my uterus and all I will get is lousy ibuprofen. Like I said, I am a wuss. Yes, I labored and gave birth without a working epidural (the first catheter came out and the second epidural numbed my left side only), so I know pain. But I don't embrace pain. I am not one with it. I don't go looking for it. I run from it.

I made it out of the building, but started crying as soon as I closed the door to my car. I sobbed all the way home (I must have looked alarming). I don't know whether I was crying over the loss of this pregnancy, or over the fear of a painful procedure, or maybe just over my feeling of complete lack of control. But I haven't cried that hard in a very long time. I'm still weepy and it has been eight hours.

[Note to self: Must get a grip.]

I know that anticipation is often the hardest part when faced with the unknown, and I know that I will survive the procedure on Monday, but that doesn't help much.

In the meantime I have a ~~torture session~~ visit with the in-laws! to ~~endure~~ look forward to. They called tonight and said that they are coming for the day! Tomorrow! Joy!

Can one of you kind readers please just shoot me now? Please?

*Summary: I am a superior professor, but I need to work on being less of a perfectionist.
Translation: Give me a merit raise, fools.

**Would rather tell colleagues and students that I had been abducted by aliens then let them know that I am miscarrying.

***Does the joint use of the words "needle" and "cervix" make you nervous? I broke into a cold sweat just thinking about it.

A rotten week

2008-01-26T20:37:00.000-05:00

It has been a bad, bad week.

First, Baby M managed to come down with the flu* despite having had the flu shot in the fall. She was miserable, and I must observe that there is nothing sadder than a 17-month-old who has the shakes from a 104.5 degree fever. She spent a good bit of time limp in our arms and spent a couple of fitful nights in our room because I was too worried to leave her in her crib. It was exhausting for all of us.

Coupled with the worry and stress of having a sick baby, was the stress of juggling her care during a particularly busy work week. Because we were interviewing candidates for a faculty position in my department, there were meetings, job talks, and lunches with candidates that I could not miss. This meant that J and I spent the week frantically shuffling what we could shuffle and trying not to fight about whose commitments were more important at any given moment. We managed to muddle through, but it was not pretty and by week's end we were both exhausted from it.**

On Friday, I woke to light pinkish-brown spotting. It stopped quickly and I had no cramping so I wasn't terribly worried. I called the nurse for reassurance and she felt that it was probably just irritation from the progesterone suppositories given that I was having no heavy cramps. Even so, she put me in with my OB so that I wouldn't spend the next week (until my 8 week appointment) worrying.

At my appointment, the OB went through the checklist again:

Any more spotting? No? Good.
It was brown, not red? Yes? Excellent.
Still having nausea? Yes? Good sign.
Strong cramping/ contractions? No. Very good.
So let's take a look.

Out came the ultrasound machine. First he tries the abdominal probe. I see my uterus and the black gestational sac and nothing else. He says he is having a hard time scanning through because of my retroverted uterus, so let's try the internal probe, OK?

Again, he scans. Again a black hole. Nothingness. Nurse and doctor exchange looks. The nurse moves Kleenex box closer to the exam table.

"I'm concerned because by now we should see the contents of the gestational sac," he says at last.

"Blighted ovum?" I ask, knowing the answer already. I am calm, detached.

"It is certainly suspicious," he concedes.

He decides that I should return in a week to confirm. If I haven't passed it on my own by then, I can either take a pill to induce contractions or I can schedule a D&C. ***

So I am pregnant, but not. My breasts ache, my tummy is bloated, waves of nausea grip me, and I am in the grips of that bone deep fatigue that is exclusive to pregnancy. But there will be no baby. No payoff for the hard work my body has done. No sweet baby kicks and no ultrasound peeks at my sweet one. Nothing.

I'm OK. I've shed no tears. I am numb. I am empty.

*This was confirmed with a rapid flu test at the pediatrician's office.
**On the bright side, Baby M is feeling better and should be able to return to her center on Monday.
***Thoughts on this?

My Little Houdini

2008-01-14T21:27:00.000-05:00

To celebrate surviving the first OB appointment--complete with a breast exam, pap smear, internal exam, labs and ultrasound*-- I decided to go buy some fabulous boots. After cooking dinner, bathing the girls, and putting Baby M to bed, I left the house for some serious shopping.

As I was walking into the first shoe store, J called to inform me that Baby M had climbed out of her crib, walked to her door, and started knocking on it like a Jehovah's Witness on a mission. He lowered the crib the last two inches and she repeated her escape act. Another call. Could I please come home? Now?

Bootless, I headed home. By the time I walked through the door, Baby M was asleep in her crib. I asked J how he had managed to settle her down, to which he replied, "Duct tape."

Somehow, given his propensity to use duct tape on, well, everything, this seemed more than slightly plausible. So it was with great trepidation I opened the door to Baby M's room.

This is our crib:

I am happy to report that no duct tape was used. What J did was to turn the crib around so that the lower side is facing the wall and the high side is facing outward into the room. It is only a matter of time before she manages to hoist herself out the sides, but it buys us time to get one of these fancy crib tents:

*Gestational sac spotted; repeat ultrasound in two weeks to look for a fetus and heartbeat.

Quick update

2008-01-12T13:24:00.000-05:00

Thanks for the kind thoughts in response to my last two posts. I've been intending to update, but there isn't much to say at this point. The hard thing about being a "regular" OB patient is the lack of early monitoring. Here is all I have to share at this point:

My first (and only) beta was 86. I surged on December 20th so I'm assuming I ovulated on the 21st. I think that 86 is a decent beta for 14 dpo--not as high as Baby M, but high enough. My anxiety would be lower (or higher) had I had a second beta, but the OB wouldn't order another-- I had the sense that he was indulging me with the first. I almost called Dr. Negative for monitoring, but I decided against it.

All I can say is thank goodness for HPTs. I've taken a LOT of them. At first, I just took pleasure in watching the First Response brand get progressively darker. Then I switched to the cheap dollar store hpts. These are great because they keep getting darker for quite a while. Did I mention that I have bought a LOT of these? Even the clerk at the dollar store looked at me funny when I was checking out, prompting me to snap, "Yes, I'm a bit obsessed, Okay?" I remember my grandmother, a gentle alcoholic*, used to hide her wine bottles so her sister wouldn't find them. I've started to do that with HPTs so that J doesn't think I've gone completely insane.

I'm going to see the OB on Monday. His nurse said that he was concerned that my one beta was low. I was confused about this until I realized that he was going by my last menstrual cycle start date, assuming that I ovulated on day 14 rather than day 21. I could have cleared this up by telling the nurse that I was sure I ovulated late, but when I realized I would probably get an early scan out of it, I said nothing. I'm evil that way. My name is Em, and I am an ultrasound whore.

*Seriously, I named little E after her. She was the best grandmother in the world. She just happened to be an alcoholic, too.

What does it take to get a beta around here?

2008-01-04T19:38:00.000-05:00

Little E was conceived on an injectable/ IUI cycle. We tried on our own six months and then had eight months of fertility treatment. Had we not conceived that cycle, we would have moved on to IVF. We started trying for Baby M when little E was six or seven months old. That took eight months. She was conceived naturally, with progesterone support while we were waiting to travel to a high FSH friendly fertility center for IVF.

This time, we tried once. Once. I've read that pregnancy cures infertility, but damn. Once.

While conception was alarmingly easy, getting a beta was a battle. First I called the OB's office at 8:30 a.m. and the receptionist cheerfully took my information and said, "We'll see you February 1."

Having had my first two pregnancies monitored closely by an RE for the first two months, I thought I had missed something. So I asked when my blood work and ultrasounds were happening.

She said, "We don't do anything before eight weeks."

So I asked to speak to a nurse.

Who called me back at 11:30 and said there was no need for a beta as long as the pregnancy was progressing normally.

So I asked how one can tell the pregnancy is progressing normally in the absence of repeat betas and ultrasounds.

She said she would talk to the doctor.

So I reminded her of my thyroid cancer and thyroid replacement and asked that they check my levels to be sure that things are OK there.

She said she would speak to the doctor.

She finally called back at 3:15 and said that I could have my beta and thyroid labs on Monday morning. When I asked why I couldn't have it today, she said that they were closing at 4:00.

I'll be there, I said. And I was. Barely. With a wide-eyed three-year-old in tow.

But now I have to wait until Monday for beta results (and it doesn't sound like there will be repeat betas). So I went to the store and bought six more HPTs.* Just to get me through the weekend.

*I just used one. Line is definitely darker.

Stick Confusion, Part II

2008-01-03T20:07:00.000-05:00

I'm freaking out a little right now. I tested Tuesday and it was snowy white. So I:

--indulged in alcohol

--indulged in a ton of caffeine

--took advil for these "menstrual" cramps

--took cold medicine

I also convinced myself that it would be better wait a little longer to really try since having a baby in September would mean I would have to start teaching again when the baby was three months old.

Tonight I decided to test again, not because I really suspected anything, but because my luteal phase has lasted so long. I was absolutely shocked to get a positive. I mean, we did it once, no preseed, no wheat grass, no progesterone support, no charting.

I'm elated. I'm scared. I'm thinking this isn't very dark for 14 days past ovulation. I'll call my doctor for a beta tomorrow and will report back when I have word.

39

2007-12-25T21:08:00.000-05:00

That's my age as of today.

My in-laws invited themselves to our house for Christmas so I spent my birthday cooking, cleaning, serving, and cleaning again. I did get a birthday card.

Tonight, I'm tired. And feeling old. I want to go to bed. And yet, I feel like I should continue my practice of using my birthday to reflect upon the previous year and to think about how I would like the next year to unfold.

Here are my wishes from last year with updates:

That I find the will to finish the text. No. But I found the will to pull the plug which was major.

That the publisher is nicer. Sadly, no, she is a rotten flower.

That my daughters are healthy. Yes!

That daycare is more traumatic for me than for Baby M. I think so. She adjusted easily, but overall, I think that I would prefer a nanny if we had the funds.

That E figures out the potty training thing. Yes! She worked this out around 30 months or so.

That J and I have time to reconnect. We need to continue working on this. It has been a rough year, but I think we are doing better.

That I can breastfeed M until she is one or until I feel good about stopping. Yes! I bet my 38-year-old-self would have been surprised to know we would still be doing this.

That I lose the baby weight. Mostly, yes, though I think I have gained weight with this week's baking and feasts!

Peace on Earth. Is it more peaceful this year?

That I become better organized. Woefully, no.

That I keep writing in this space for therapy. Happily, yes.

That fewer hairs show up on my chin. Sigh.

That I give more to worthwhile causes and charities. I could do better.

Here are my wishes for the next year:

That I step up my research efforts.

That I make getting more sleep a priority.

That my girls are healthy.

That I find ways to deal with my children's tantrums without losing my cool.

That J and I continue to work on better communication.

That we have another healthy pregnancy.

That we are able to retire our debt and start saving beyond what we are putting into retirement.

That I work on becoming better organized and home and at work.

That I take time to take care of myself.

That fewer stray hairs show up on my chin and jawline.

That my growing-out hair gets past the awkward stage quickly.

That I see my friends more often.

That I keep writing in this space.

Stick confusion

2007-12-20T14:30:00.000-05:00

After over 15 months of breastfeeding*, I finally started cycling again around Thanksgiving. Yesterday, I used an ovulation prediction test and thought it might be positive, but I couldn't be sure. This morning, I repeated and it was definitely positive (yes, I know you aren't supposed to do them in the morning, so sue me). I was so excited to have a clearly positive test stick that I walked out to show it to J.

I handed it over and said, "maybe you can come home during lunch." He looked at the stick and and then gave me an awkward little hug and kiss with an "Oh, wow!" I thought it was a slightly odd response to an LH surge, but it wasn't until I walked back to the bedroom that I realized what had happened. It had not occurred to me that J, not counting cycle days or fertility signs, might assume I was handing him a positive pregnancy test. I walked back to the kitchen and told him about the stick confusion and we both had a little smile over it.

So, yes, I guess we have decided to try for one more. I'm going to be 39 in a few days and I have high FSH; I know our chances are low. I refuse to chart, obsess, or do anything more than use an OPK to pinpoint days, but here we go again.

*Still, breastfeeding now, but barely.

Photos

2007-12-19T13:33:00.000-05:00

Sometime in the mid 90s, I flew to Seattle with my mother to attend my cousin J’s wedding. I hadn’t seen J since we were children, but my mother wanted a traveling companion, the trip was free, and I was curious about Seattle and the four cousins who I perceived as being quite glamorous. At the time, my aunt and uncle lived in Bremerton where they had views of Puget Sound from their small horse farm. I remember it being lovely and picturesque, but what I remember most vividly is the smell of evergreen and moist, cool air.

The trip must have taken place fairly shortly after the suicide of Kurt Cobain because I recall asking my cousins if they had been to a Nirvana show before the band hit big. They all looked at me blankly and said they knew nothing of the Seattle music scene. I soon learned that not only were my cousins not into the grunge scene, they did not approve of it. Though they were raised Catholic like me, three of my four cousins had recently been born again and were now nondenominational, evangelical, conservative Christians. In other words, they were just like much of the population I had happily left behind in South Carolina. It was disappointing to say the least. If my references to non-Christian bands didn’t already set me up as a sinner in my cousin’s eyes, my casual mention of how J and I lived together for a year an a half before we were married certainly did the trick. For the rest of my visit, my cousins kept a polite and wary distance from me, which meant I ended up hanging out with my elders.

My aunt, who is quite thrifty and skilled in the kitchen, decided to bypass a caterer and cater the wedding reception herself. It was a significant undertaking, but with all the extra hands in the kitchen, she made it work. For two days before the wedding, al the women of the family cooked and then decorated the church. While I was somewhat bemused at the time, I’m glad we had the opportunity to stay in that kitchen for as long as we did. Bonding was had by all, except, of course, by the cousins who were keeping their prayerful distance.

The wedding was interesting. The preacher explained how it is a busy and confusing world and that cousin J, being a woman, just couldn’t be expected to process it all. Her new husband’s duties would include explaining the world to his bride, shielding her from its harsh realities, and leading her through it.* As the preacher intoned, “As God is to man, husband is to wife.” I developed an inappropriate set of giggles and was pinched, HARD, by my mother and an aunt.

The morning after the wedding we again congregated in my aunt’s kitchen. Along with coffee and pastry, photos were passed around the kitchen. Vacations, children, home improvements—there was no theme. Eventually, my mother pulled a set of treasured photos from her purse. There were oohs and ahs as the pictures made their way through the room. Curious about what my elders were so excitedly viewing, I waited impatiently for my turn. As I held them at last, I realized that rather than show photos of her home, husband, children, or vacations, my mother selected photos from her recent colonoscopy for show and tell. Yes, my mother not only kept the photos of her first colonoscopy and polyps (a full decade before going on to develop full blown colon cancer), but she carried them across the country. To breakfast. And no one objected. What does this say about my mother? About my extended family?

Today I noticed that my doctor had included photos of my “normal colon” with my discharge paperwork from my Monday colonoscopy. I briefly considered filing the images in my medical files. However, upon remembering the breakfast of coffee, pastry and polyps, I decided to toss my colon pictures into the trash lest I suddenly be tempted to pull them out during Christmas dinner.

*They divorced after only two years, which tells me that cousin J must have wised up.

Back

2007-12-17T19:38:00.000-05:00

This is the first time I’ve had a chance to post or catch up on my favorite blogs in nearly a month. I feel like I have run a marathon–make that an ultra marathon- what with the end of the semester, with neurotic seniors working frantically to complete their practicum research, with J’s two weeks of travel, with final exams, with meetings, with conference papers due, with letters of reference to write, with Christmas to plan, with in-laws acting up. It has all been a bit much.

It feels good to be back.

I should give a real update, but a brief run down will have to do for tonight. I’ll post about each of these separately now that I am finally on a two-week break.

-M was assessed and diagnosed with a speech delay. In theory, she will start speech therapy after the holidays. I’ll know more after meeting with the service coordinator this Thursday.

-We are cohosting, with J’s brother and sister-in-law, a 50th anniversary party for J’s parents. It is out of control. I’m dreading the party.

–More than dreading the party, I’m dreading Christmas Day. J’s mother invited the rest of the family to my home for Christmas. Which is my birthday. Today when she asked about my Christmas menu, she informed me that my brother-in-law can’t digest the shrimp in my main dish. Much more on this later.

– I could never be a single parent. Two weeks without J during the last week of school and the first week of exams convinced me of this.

–I had a colonoscopy today. Preparation: horrible. Procedure: tolerable. Results: excellent.

–Grades will be released to students tomorrow and I know that I will receive angry/ frantic. bewildered email messages from students who performed poorly or failed my classes. Am very worried for and somewhat scared of one senior who failed my practicum.

–E is out of preschool for almost four weeks. This means that she will have to accompany me to my office as I prepare for the new semester. Four weeks scares me a bit.

–I’m about to take on an administrative position in my department as program director for my discipline (we are a two-discipline department).

–I’ve been watching Season One of Heroes on DVD for a few nights. Perfect escapism after a lousy month.

How have you been?

Gym Rat: Part II

2007-11-15T13:41:00.000-05:00

Did I mention that the shower at the second gym is awful? I went by today and asked to check it out. One of the girls walked me back and showed me that, yes, one of the two stalls does have enough water pressure to rinse shampoo out of hair. The other shower has no water pressure, but it has hot water. So, if I join, I can take a shower with just enough pressure to rinse my hair OR I can stand under a trickle of hot water, but I can't have water pressure and hot water at the same time. Bummer.

I spoke to the manager and asked him if he was aware of the plumbing issues. His responded that yes, he was well aware of the issues in the women's locker room and that they have had plumbers out several times. Furthermore the owners are aware of the issue. He then told me that the showers in the men's locker room are "perfect." Somehow that was not reassuring though I think he meant it to be. Despite this, I'm 99 percent sure I'm joining. While the family center would be nice for the swimming pool (and swim lessons), it is too easy for me to make excuses not to go.

Now I have to decide between a two year contract that is $29 a month or a one year contract that is $39 a month.

Gym Rat

2007-11-12T21:30:00.001-05:00

Okay, I'm not a gym rat yet, but I plan to join a gym. Believe it or not, this doesn't have a lot to do with vanity or not being able to find jeans that fit. It is about health. My bones' health, specifically.

Nine and a half years ago I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. It was really no big deal. I had surgery to remove my thyroid and radiation to kill any lingering thyroid or cancer cells. Since then I have been on a fairly high dose of thyroid replacement hormone. The idea is to suppress the production of TSH which can fuel any cancer cells that escaped radiation. The problem with long-term suppression of TSH is that it can lead to accelerated bone loss and osteoporosis. The problem with not doing long-term suppression is that thyroid cancer can be tenacious and come back even after 15 or 20 years. A definite balancing act is in order.

Unfortunately for me, I have risk factors other than thyroid treatment for osteoporosis including my build (small boned and thin*), family history of osteoporosis (my father has a hump now), and European descent. Even nursing can leach needed calcium and lead to bone loss. Because of my risk factors, I've had three bone density scans since my initial thyroid cancer treatment. The first, my baseline, came soon after treatment and showed that I already had comparatively low bone mass for my age. My second bone scan was similar to my first; I still had ostepenia, but it looked like I was holding my own. My third test, done last winter, was dismal. I had lost bone mass in both my hips and my spine. In fact, I had lost over 20 percent of my already low bone spinal bone mass in just four years: I'm closing in on osteoporosis.

At my appointment a few weeks ago, my endocrinologist/ oncologist said that she was alarmed by my results. She wants me to think about using one of the bone building drugs and to increase my calcium intake (my blood calcium is always a bit low which is common for thyroid cancer patients, particularly if the parathyroid glands were traumatized during surgery, which mine were). She also backed off my thyroid replacement dose a bit with the stipulation that if my labs change (protein cancer markers), then they will have to be amped up again.

I'm not wild about the bone building drugs. I've pored over the research, and it seems that this class of drugs is not the best idea for premenopausal women. Instead, I want to make a concerted effort to increase my calcium and vitamin D intake. I also want to get religious about strength training and weight bearing exercise, both of which preserve bone mass. Thus, my desire to join a gym.

I have narrowed my gym search to three facilities, but I'm having a hard time choosing among them.

The first is a family wellness center not far from our home, but about six miles from my office. We were members there for a year, but we let the membership lapse because we weren't using it enough. The center is large, has a pool, and there is a free nursery. There are free weights, two sets of nautilus equipment, plenty of cardio equipment, and a wide range of classes. The problem with this center is that to use it, I will either have to drive to our downtown campus to drop E off and then drive back out to the gym or try to leave her in the gym nursery. She used to flip out about the gym nursery so I'm just not sure if this will work.

The second facility is only a block from my office. It is sleek and new. The cardio equipment is awesome and the weight equipment is easy to use. It is incredibly clean. There is no pool, no childcare, and fitness classes are limited, but that doesn't concern me too much because of the convenience. With it so close to my office, it would be easy for me to work out several mornings a week. The biggest negative (and possible deal breaker) is the shower in the facility. I signed up for three free visits over the summer and was horrified at the shower situation. There was no water pressure and the water temperature was unpredictable--lukewarm one day and scalding hot the next. Those were the worst showers I have ever taken. I told the staff about them, but an acquaintance told me that nothing has been done. I'm not sure that I can join a gym where I can't get a decent shower.

The last gym is a few blocks from my office. There is no childcare and no pool, but there are yoga and pilates classes. The facility has a ton of cardio equipment as well as free weights and nautilus. The showers appear to be functioning well. However, there are several problems with this facility. First, it is the most expensive of the three. Second, the cardio equipment is situated along a window that overlooks a busy sidewalk and street--to exercise there is to be on display. Third, it doesn't seem like they are fastidious about making sure the machines are wiped clean and disinfected. Given the surge in nasty superbugs, I prefer a clean gym. Finally, this gym is very popular with the student set and I'm not sure that I could work out there without feeling self conscious and old.

So I'm stuck. I just can't make up my mind. Will I really use the family center if I have to take E downtown to campus and then drive all the way back? Will I use the beautiful center a block from my office and just deal with the trickle of water and unpredictable water temperatures? Or will I take stock in purell, get over my self-consciousness and join the gym where there a lot of student types? What would you do?

*Yes, yes. I have been complaining about my weight, but extra pounds on a small frame make a difference.

Public Service Announcement

2007-11-11T19:36:00.000-05:00

Is it possible that those pounds I have lost have all come from my chest?

I ask because I spent much time trying on new jeans this weekend. Twelve pairs to be exact. None fit. None flattered. While my weight is back near its prepregnancy state, my hips are not. I've decided that jean shopping is a close second to bathing suit shopping on the things-to-do-to-feel-completely-demoralized list. Bra shopping runs a close third. As it happens, grading senior research papers is up there. *

The jean shopping made me realize that 1) my weight loss may not be proportional and 2) my chest is going to win my body's biggest loser-a-thon. You see, M is barely nursing anymore; she likes a quick nip at bedtime and when she wakes, but she isn't getting much. These days it is all about comfort and not much about nutrition. My boobs have responded to the decrease in demand by doing the incredible shrinking tits act. I have gone from a 36DD just two months ago back to my prepregnancy size of 34 C. I suspect there may be more shrinkage once we are truly done with the comfort nursing. I don't really mind the shrinking-- after all, exercise is easier with a smaller chest--but I do mind that my nipples aren't pointing the right way.

That's right. You heard me. My nipples can no longer be counted on to point straight out (remember the headlight jokes in middle school?). Nope. They tend to point to the sides a bit. Sometimes they stare at each other, cross-eyed. Other times, they look away from each other as if repulsed by each other. It isn't pretty. In fact, I find it somewhat alarming. My friends warned me that after nursing I might droop or sag; in fact my sister-in-law had implants after nursing two children left her with "two empty tube socks." But no one told me that nipples can end up out of alignment.

S0 here is a public service announcement. In addition to shrinkage, droopage and stretch markage, nipple misalignment is a very real possibility. Consider yourself warned.

*Holy Mother of God, whose class have they been sitting in all semester? Why can't they write? Did their English teachers give them multiple choice essays? Why can't they form simple hypotheses? How am I supposed to grade these? Why me? Why me? Whaaaaa.

November

2007-11-05T20:10:00.000-05:00

Do you remember how in old movies the passage of time is shown as a the whirling hands on a clock or as the pages of a calendar flipping by in staccato? October went by like that. Supersonic. How is it already November?

November is OK. It's no October, but the month has its charms. The cool weather is lovely, and wearing flannel pajamas is delicious, if not sexy. I don't much care for the shorter days and for getting home after dark, but I do like the smell of wood smoke from neighbors' chimneys and sleeping under a pile of quilts. In November, my impulse is to hunker down and ready myself for the long pause of winter. This November, I'll fight that urge.

Last month, I vowed to lose weight. The baby pounds were getting old, and I felt disgust every time I pulled on my fat pants. My weight loss plan was simple: eat less and exercise more. I stayed away from sweets and tried to take walks whenever I had a few minutes to spare. By October 30th, I had dropped six pounds and was back in my favorite jeans.* Yes, I overindulged a bit around Halloween,** but I'm back on the wagon and I'm hoping to drop another three to four pounds by the end of the month and to be back at my pre-fertility treatment weight by year's end.

As silly as it sounds, my confidence was boosted by being able to reach my weight loss goal. I've had a down year professionally, my three-year-old has started copping serious attitude, and my 14 month old isn't speaking; it's all been a bit much and I've been feeling downright glum, out of control, rudderless. Losing the weight reminded me that I do have some command over my life. And that is a good thing.

I've decided that setting one manageable goal a month may be just the thing to keep my outlook more sunny, which is why I'm declaring November the month of the FROG. For those of you lucky enough not to live in suburban hell, that is Finished Room Over the Garage.

My FROG is the dumping ground for the entire house. It is supposed to be my home office, and indeed, my computer, printer, fax and other office gear are here. But it isn't a peaceful office because there are boxes, scattered paperwork, toys, books, and various odds and ends. It is so disorganized and cluttered that I have put off having the roof fixed because workers would have to pass through the FROG to get to the trusses. For about a year, I've been promising myself that I would clear it out, but I've put it off. It has just seemed too overwhelming.
I'm ready now. By the end of the month, I want this to be a peaceful and organized office/ playroom. My plan is to spend at least 15 minutes every day until I get it in order. I hope that I can chip away at the task bit by bit until I can report mission accomplished.

*OK-they are still a little tight, but it isn't scandalous.
**Chocolate.

Mommy Confessions

2007-10-29T20:52:00.000-04:00

Over the weekend, E attended two birthday parties (add those to last week's fall carnival and it quickly becomes apparent that her social calendar is much fuller than my own). The first party was for a little girl from E's old school. While our children were bouncing merrily in the giant Dora jump castle and getting sugared up*, the moms ate cheetohs and chatted.

At some point between a discussion of potty training [pullups at night or panties?] and a comparison of toddler food likes and dislikes [ranch dressing is a miracle food], one of the mothers asked about E's new school. I told her that while I like it, it isn't year-round so E will have a summer break with me. I mentioned that I am "freaked out" by this. As soon as I said it, I felt like taking it back. What kind of mother am I not to welcome two months home with my firstborn? I braced myself for another skirmish in the mommy wars and waited for the other mothers to react.

I quickly learned that I wasn't behind enemy lines. There was a moment of silence, a slight pause, and then the other mothers jumped in. The first, a nurse, said, "Oh, that would freak me out, too. I am so not cut out to be a stay-at-home mom." The second, an architect, said that she was glad I had said something because she often feels guilty that she enjoys her job. The third, a stay-at-home mom since the birth of her second child a few months ago, said that it has been far more draining than she imagined, but rewarding too.

I've been thinking about the other things I keep to myself in fear of being considered a bad mother. Here is a sampling.

I miss having disposable income.
I get bored playing with my kids.
I have no tolerance for repetitive sounds (Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy).
Whining makes me crazy.
I feed my three-year-old quesadillas every other day because it is easier than fighting with her to eat her veggies.
I raise my voice at times.
I miss performing bodily functions in peace and quiet.
I fantasize about sleep.
I sometimes let the girls watch TV so I can catch a breather.
It doesn't really freak me out that my 14-month old likes to scavenge for random food (mostly things she has flung form the high chair) off the kitchen floor.
I once hid in the bedroom closet so the girls couldn't find me (J was close by).
I plan to steal E's Halloween candy.

I'm sure there is more to add to the list, but that is a start.

*E was wild that night and didn't fall asleep until close to 11:00. Good times.

Maybe November is the New October?

2007-10-21T19:53:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I wrote about how much I enjoy October. I was so looking forward to crisper weather and blue skies that I suppose I neglected to consider global warming. With the exception of a few days a couple of weeks ago, it has remained hot--still muggy enough for us to run the air conditioner many days-- and hazy. So I'm thinking that maybe November is the new October and that I'll be able to pull out some sweaters soon.

On the bright side, I have lost almost five pounds. It has been fairly easy. I have given up much of my snacking and have been very sparing with the sweets*. I've been trying to walk more often and most days I am able to get at least half an hour of exercise. I would like to spend that half hour running instead of walking, but I keep pulling random muscles. Two weeks ago, I turned and badly wrenched my neck. That took about a week of heavy doses of ibuprofen and massage (self massage--my budget no longer allows for professional help) to clear up. Then, about the time I was ready to lace up my running shoes, I pulled another muscle. This, I think, is a groin injury, but maybe I'm wrong about what it is called. Whatever its name, it is a muscle between my (now perkier!) rear end and my inner thigh. I forget about it until I stand up and --ouch!-- am reduced to hobbling. Once it warms up, it isn't so bad.

Babies have been on my mind a lot lately. Maybe it's because my high FSH diagnosis came two years ago this week. Maybe it's because my friend, B, is in labor right now.** It may be because I feel like my body is gearing up to start cycling again. There are lots of little signs, but I am still waiting for that first postpartum cycle. We still aren't completely weaned, but my prolactin levels must be dropping as M has greatly curtailed her nursing. She still nurses when she wakes in the morning, but it is very quick. She also nurses just before bed, but that seems more like a comfort measure than nutrition. I think she'll have herself weaned in the next month or two.

So babies. . . I keep thinking them. I know I should be happy with two, and I am, but the mental snapshot of my "ideal" family that I have carried around since childhood has always included two parents and three children. I suppose this has something to do with being one of three.***

J can take it or leave it, so the decision to try for one more or not is going to be mine alone. Right now, I think I'm just going to take my chances without using any contraception. Seeing as how my FSH was 25 two years ago and how I'll be 40 in a year, having another baby is a long shot. Still, I'm not quite willing to say that we are done.

*Walking through the Halloween displays has been a bit agonizing!
**I just sent an exercise ball over for her to use during contractions. Her contractions are strong but still 7-8 minutes apart after 20 hours.
***Clearly my family is crazy, but I do love my brothers who don't have guns, unsafe pools or other hideous problems.

Why I Didn't Go to My High School Reunion

2007-10-19T23:00:00.000-04:00

My 20th high school reunion is this weekend. Earlier tonight, my classmates attended the homecoming game. Right now, they are probably having drinks in one of the two bars in my hometown. Tomorrow, they will have a cocktail party and dance.

I'm not there.

I wish I could say that insecurity about my short hair/weight/melasma/wardrobe/wrinkles were the reason I chose not to attend, but I'm just not that vain. Sure, I regret chopping my hair off last fall,* but my high school classmates are the people who witnessed me puking my guts out in a cornfield, vomiting on a security guard,** and peeing myself a bit when I couldn't get my overalls down fast enough; they've seen worse.

So why am I home tonight? I'm home because of The House of Death, aka the family home. I haven't stayed there in nearly 15 years and I won't let my children be there without me by their sides. It is a miracle that my brothers and I survived to adulthood. I'm not taking chances on my children.

You are thinking that I must be exaggerating, but I assure you, I'm not.

The House of Death has:

Plenty of second-hand smoke. My father is a chain smoker. He is 68 and dying of heart failure, but he keeps smoking. In bed even. My mother insists that he only smokes in the bedroom, but there are ashtrays throughout the house and the smoke hits you the moment you walk in. Suffocating.
A swimming pool that is not properly gated. And door that can't be locked leading to the pool from the sunporch.
An attack cat. Seriously, I'm a cat lover, but this cat is a psychopath.
Clutter everywhere. My mother is well on her way to being a guest on Dr. Phil. Let's just say that she has a hard time parting with things. The last time we visited for the day, I threw away old tubes of Mary Kay foundation samples. These were at least 29 years old. I am sure of this because her days as a Mary Kay "consultant" ended before my youngest brother was born.
Dangerous stuff scattered about. Take the sunporch as an example. When we were there for Christmas, there were shards of glass from a broken and forgotten votive holder scattered about the sunporch floor. My mother never noticed the glass, nor did she notice that we threw the remains of the votive holder away. There is a gas heater on the sunporch that is missing its safety grate leaving an open flame for little hands to discover.
A handgun. Loaded. On my father's bedstand. My father was an FBI agent in the 1960s. He left the bureau to become a prosecutor, but kept his gun and badge. He frequently wears the gun in a worn out holster (I'm fairly certain that he doesn't have a concealed weapons permit) and insists on sleeping next to it. Last time we were there, he pulled J aside for some in-law bonding. "Want to test its action?" he asked. J declined.

I hope you get the picture.

My friends were urging me to come to the reunion and not tell my parents, but this would not work. First, it is a small town and my parents have many spies. If they were to learn that I came into town and did not bring the girls for them to watch, I would never hear the end of it. Never. Second, I just don't have the emotional energy for a confrontation with my parents right now. Call me a coward, but I can't handle it. I've been through my whole House of Death list with them and they have blown me off and dismissed my concerns. At some point***we will have it out, but I don't have the emotional energy just yet.

*PSA for all pregnant/ newly postpartum women out there: Do NOT cut your hair off in some hormonal wave of insanity. Trust me on this.

**These incidents all occurred the first time I ever drank alcohol. I filched Wild Turkey from my parents' liquor cabinet and, not understanding the properties of alcohol, I filled a 32 ounce cup about half full with the rum and added a few ounces of coke. After the security guard incident, one friend whisked me away in her car (police had been called), begging me not to vomit in it. She took me to my house where she pushed me through the front door and then ran back to her car, peeling out so my parents wouldn't see who had brought me home. I was the talk of the school for the rest of the school year.

***Perhaps in time for the 25th reunion?

October

2007-09-30T20:57:00.001-04:00

I love October, I truly do. The air lets go of its summer sluggishness and perks up. It smells good. It feels good. The nights turn crisp, but not cold.* The summer haze gives way to a sky of marvelous blue. The beach, no longer overrun with tourists, is perfect with water warm enough for barefoot walks. There are other things I like about October. The pumpkin patch. The fair. Halloween. Jeans. Sweatshirts.

October makes me feel hopeful. In October, I can do anything.

Which is why I've decided to lose weight. I'm ready, and this baby weight is getting old. It isn't the only reason I am skipping my high school reunion, but it is one reason. I need to lose seven to ten pounds to be back to my pre-pregancy/ pre-fertility treatment weight. Ten would be lovely, but seven would get me back to my favorite jeans.

Here is my plan: Eat less. Exercise more.

This is easy to say now after a day of face stuffing (E's birthday party), but I feel like I'm ready. I feel bad about myself. I've gone soft and my rear end is drooping. May face is full. My thighs touch. Ew.

It is going to be hard. I'm busy at home and at work and this doesn't lend itself to thoughtful eating. I tend to go a long time and then eat too much. I need to pack lunches and remove temptation from the house (bread, crackers, and candy** that means you). I am trying to plan the week's dinners now. Lots of brown rice and veggies and lean protein. This is how we eat when we have time for meal preparation so the trick will be to find that time. I need to cut my snacking, too.

As difficult as eating correctly will be, I think the key will be getting exercise. I used to be a runner. Then I had children. When I was running, I ran marathons. I wasn't fast, but I wasn't embarrassed by my efforts, either. I need to start running again. (Walking doesn't do it for me because I am an endorphin junkie.) Once again, time is a huge problem. I'm going to be running at night, I guess, because mornings are just too full and already-harried around here. I may look into a membership at the gym near my office so I can have a shower if I want to run during the day.

Tonight I told J about my desire to lose weight. He has agreed to not be the food police, but to be supportive. We'll see.

My goal for the month is to lose five pounds. I'll report back.

*Excellent for sleep if the children are cooperative.
**I have a well-developed sweet tooth.

TGIF

2007-09-28T14:56:00.000-04:00

All day yesterday (Thursday) I was convinced it was Friday. In fact, I told students who had stopped by to talk about projects that I would see them on Monday. I told colleagues to have good weekends. I cleaned my office fridge. When I eventually realized* I had a day to go, I quickly cycled through the Kubler-Ross five stages of grief.

Anyway, Friday is really here and I am relieved because it is been a brutal week. I'm too tired to write a proper post tonight, but I think I'll follow Suz's cue, embrace my inner coward, and post a quick update.

Since I last posted:

1. I have made an effort to curse less often around E.

2. E. turned three. A friend gleefully told me that three is worse than two.

3. I read yet another self-help type book.

4. I decided to have a big party for E's birthday (to be held this Sunday).

5. M started saying "Mama" appropriately. She is also able to understand more than I gave her credit for.

6. I decided against attending my class reunion for reasons that will be the subject of a forthcoming post.

7. I overindulged in too much TV-- Top Chef, The Office, some of The War, bits of Survivor, and some of the Bionic Woman.

8. I took a day to stay home, alone. I danced around with my iPod, and alternated grading tests, cleaning the house, and sorting through the girls' clothes.

9. I told my mother that no, I would not tell E that "nana is going to be sad and cry" if E won't talk with her on the phone. My child is not responsible for anyone else's emotional state. The guilt stops here.

10. Had wild fantasies about sleeping more than six-seven hours.

*A very hopeful student asked, "So that means we don't have class tomorrow?!"

My little parrot

2007-09-12T21:56:00.000-04:00

As we were driving home in stop and start traffic, I heard a little voice from the back seat:

"Goddammit, cars. Move! Go faster! We need to get home."

I'm hanging my head in shame. I've obviously had a few moments of road rage as of late, and E is apparently a parrot.

Consider my act cleaned up.

Worry and Guilt

2007-09-11T20:36:00.001-04:00

I grew up Catholic and was thus well acquainted with worry and guilt before I became a mother. Still, nothing prepared me for this.

At 12.5 months, M still isn't talking.

No "Mama" no "DaDa. " No signs, except to wave bye-bye. No pointing. At times, I'm not even convinced she recognizes her name. Each day that passes and that she doesn't talk, the knot in my stomach twists tighter. I've been scouring the Internet and I'm not at all pleased by what I'm finding. While a few sites say that some babies don't say their first words until a little later, it is pretty clear that she has missed a milestone.

On the bright side, she is extremely affectionate and gregarious. She laughs at funny sounds and interacts well with her family. She knows how to turn the TV and air purifier on and off and she can work the remote control. She walks around with the Leapfrog Farm Magnet farmhouse like it is a baby boom box. She babbles constantly. She lights up when she hears the start of the Signing Time video, and she dances to its songs.

But no words and no signs.

I know you aren't supposed to compare children, but how can I not compare her to her big sister, who WAS saying Mama, Dada and duck by now and who WAS signing some basic words by now? How can I not compare her to other children at her daycare or the children of friends or my neighbor's grandson, or my niece and nephew, or the children of other bloggers? How?

So why the guilt? At some level, I am convinced that it is my fault that she is behind. Maybe it is because I had to put her in daycare at such a tender age. Maybe it is because she doesn't get as much one-on-one time as her sister did as an only child staying home with me or a nanny. Maybe I ate something I shouldn't have while pregnant. Whatever. All. My. Fault.

I did speak to her pediatrician on Friday. The doctor seemed somewhat concerned but thought that we should give M a few more months before a formal assessment. At the time, I agreed that we should just wait a little longer, but now the second-guess chorus is singing and I'm no longer sure that waiting is a good idea.

I've decided that I need to clear one day a week to stay home with her and to work with her one on one. I don't have a clear Tuesday or Thursday for two weeks, but I'll try to get at least a half day this week and next. I'm not sure exactly what we'll be able to accomplish, but I'll feel better knowing that she is getting my undivided attention for a little while.

Busy

2007-09-05T20:05:00.000-04:00

Consider my ass kicked.

With the start of the new semester, my life has gotten busy. I'm taking my children to two different centers, teaching two sections of a new course, experimenting with student blogs in an old course, trying to sustain my research, attempting to exercise, planning (if not always delivering) nutritious family meals, packing lunchboxes, keeping a clean house, planning a double birthday party and attempting to find a little me time.

I'm tired.

At the same time, after a year of self-imposed maternity and sabbatical exile, it is nice to be around other people. While my colleagues and I spend a good bit of time complaining about our tone-deaf administration, we do manage to have intellectually stimulating conversations. When that fails, we talk trash about our most annoying students.

E's new center is very, very good. Because it is on campus and --bonus!-- across the street from my office, I am able to observe her class rather frequently. She doesn't know I am there because of an ingenious one-way mirror, but I love having a window, literally, on her day. She seems content at the new center and the teacher seems quite competent. The second guess chorus has quieted down.

My courses seem to be going well. The new practicum is quite a lot of work, but the students have not been complaining or freaking out which is good for my stress level. I decided that my social issues students should each create a blog rather than write a term paper. I'm not sure if this was a good move or a really bad idea. Their first entries are due today, so I will soon have a better idea of how this is going to play out.

We are having a double birthday party for the girls this weekend. We've just invited family and one close set of friends who know my family. We'll have a party with other little kids for E's real birthday in a few weeks, but I thought things would get too crowded with family (17 people) and little kids. Plus, my family is sufficiently crazy that I am at a point where keeping my family and friends separate seems a really good idea.

I have lots to write about, but not much time. I'm hoping to find a little time to write this weekend and to catch up on the blogs I like to read. Stay tuned.

Birthday Girl

2007-08-22T19:44:00.000-04:00

The second guess chorus

2007-08-20T20:16:00.000-04:00

I tend to agonize over decisions. The red shirt or the black shirt? Spearmint or wintergreen? Crest or Colgate? Then after a decision has been made, I second guess myself.

A sampling of the second guess chorus that is on constant loop in my head:

Maybe I should have kept my hair long.

Maybe we should have gone with a station wagon.

Maybe law school would have been better.

Maybe the red shirt would have looked better.

I already torture myself with most decisions, but when it comes to decisions that will impact my children's lives, watch out. The volume of the second guess chorus increases until all I can hear is doubt.

On Thursday, I received a call from the director of the preschool that Little E starts this week. I had already agonized over the decision to change schools* and had just made my peace that I was doing the right thing to move her. So when the director called me to offer a choice of whether to place E in the two-year-old class or in the three-year-old class, I got brain freeze.

The preschool uses the public school calendar to determine class assignments. In our district, September 1 is the cutoff date. Children born on or before that date go into one grade level and children born after that date go into the next. Because Little E's birthday is in September after the deadline, she was slated to start with the two-year-old class despite being nearly three. I was somewhat worried about this because, when I asked, the two-year-olds teacher let me know that Little E would be the oldest by about four and a half months and that most of the children in that class are younger than her by at least six months. Now, I don't think she is a genius or anything, but she is bright and inquisitive and occasionally lets loose a sentence like this one from yesterday, "Mama, the condensation on my sippy cup is very frustrating." (Of course, she was racing around the house tonight waving a pool noodle in the air while shrieking, "Squirt the little tango! Squirt the little tango!" Huh?)

The center director called after a spot came available in the three-year-old class. Normally, she said, the center won't move children up. However, they were willing to do so in our case because the two-year-olds teacher also had concerns about the social and developmental gap between Little E and the younger twos.** Of course, moving her up to the threes wouldn't be without issues. For the threes, she would be the youngest by two months. Also, because of the public school policy, we would likely have to hold her back at some point.

So, I had a decision. Leave her with the twos or move her to the threes.

Ultimately, I decided that I would rather not have her regress by being with a younger cohort. I want her challenged intellectually, and I want her social skills to continue to develop. So tomorrow at 8:30 a.m., she starts the three-year-old class. And at 8:31 a.m., the second guess chorus will start its crescendo in my head.

I hope I've made the right decision.

*Pros: NAEYC accreditation, affiliated with School of Education, on campus near my office, healthy snacks, teachers with masters in early childhood ed
Cons: Tearing her from the teachers and friends she loves, having the girls at different centers, out of the way for J which leave me in charge of all transportation.

**She had assessed all the children slated to start her class, so I'll have to take her word for it.

Juggling

2007-08-19T21:35:00.000-04:00

Can my year long break from the classroom be ending? Can my baby be two days from her first birthday? Can little E be starting preschool? Already? Really? That went too fast. I wish I could slow time down just a little and linger. Of course, slowing down and lingering would just make me feel a little sadder/ more nostalgic than I already do so maybe that isn't a good idea.

It occurred to me tonight, as I was baking cupcakes, that the last time I was teaching, I had a nanny.* When we had a nanny, I didn't have to worry about corralling children, dressing children or dropping off children; didn't have to worry about tidying up after breakfast (the nanny did some light housework); and often didn't have to cook because the nanny, a culinary school graduate, loved to cook during E's naps. I was spoiled. Broke, but spoiled.

I am hoping to fall into a routine that works for all of us, but I am guessing that keeping the balls in the air is going to get intense. My working plan is to do as much in advance as is practical and to be as organized as possible. Toward these ends, I've baked and frozen the cupcakes for M's nursery party three days early, I've created a menu and done the weekly grocery shopping, I've laid out outfits for the girls and me, and I've assembled M's school bag a few days in advance. I am sure there is more I could be doing for preparation, but at least it is something.

On the bright side, I've made a good bit of progress on my list. Of course, I'll still be scrambling this week.

~~Decide on schedule for practicum~~
~~Determine grading scheme for practicum~~
Put practicum readings together in WebCT
~~Put practicum project handout together~~
~~Test software in lab~~
Write lab exercises that utilize software
Write first week of lectures for practicum I have these planned, but not written
~~Put finishing touches on social issues syllabus~~
~~Determine grading scale for social issues~~
~~Investigate pedagogical implications of requiring student blogs in social issues~~
~~Find a peanut-free food that E will be able to carry for lunch at new school~~
~~Get E’s hair trimmed~~ S
~~Get my hair trimmed and~~ ~~brows waxed~~ Have made appointment for hair
~~Meet grad student about our neglected project~~
Get pedicure Perhaps this will be a treat after surviving the first week of classes
Call electrician about the short in living room overhead light
Lose five pounds Working on it! Less chocolate and more exercise!
~~Try on my professional clothes to determine what will fit until I lose five pounds~~
Keep trying to wean
~~Determine guest list for joint birthday party~~
Order invitations
~~Order cake~~
~~Start running~~
~~Keep running~~
~~Update college web page to reflect office hours~~
~~Find out when my faculty committees/~~ ~~department meetings are scheduled~~
~~Bake something to take to Baby M’s nursery the day of her actual birthday~~
Throw away student tests that are more than three years old (we are required to keep work for three years)
~~Put together WebCT pages for social issues~~
Find shoes for Baby M
Find out if I am already president of state association (the fact that I don’t know if my term has begun is embarrassing)
Get email list for April 2008 conference I am organizing; talk to last year’s organizer
Set up state association web site
~~Get E's immunization records~~

*I've been on maternity leave or sabbatical leave since last May. E started daycare last June. The transition to daycare was eased by my flexibility during maternity and sabbatical leaves.

Finally! A good hair day

2007-08-17T20:53:00.000-04:00

Way back in the fall, when Baby M was just a few months old, and when I was very tired and very pressed for time*, I decided to cut my shoulder length hair short. Very, very short. Just so you know, I didn't go into this blindly; I've had very cute cropped hair before and I assumed that this would be equally cute and easy and fast. Unfortunately, my stylist botched it, and it has been the source of much grief since.

I was feeling too guilty to leave her (she had a baby in June and I know she was worried about finances) so I kept going to her and I kept getting bad cuts. I was so loyal that I even went to someone in her salon when she was on maternity leave (he was also pretty bad). Two weeks ago, I received a call informing me that she was back from maternity leave. I dutifully called to make an appointment and was told that her first available slot was August 23, a day after I start classes. That, my friends, was the proverbial straw. Not to be able to get a cut, even a bad one, before classes? No way. So I finally let the guilt go and looked for another stylist.

May I sing the praises of Kate, a master stylist at a top salon in this city? I had the choice to go with a "master" stylist or an "apprentice" and decided to spend the bucks on the shear genius. Why haven't I done this before? It is the best money I have spent in a long time. I'm serious. My hair looks fabulous. It is still short, but cute. Super cute. But still professional. And it should be easy to style. I also had my brows waxed and they look awesome.

So there. Call me shallow, but I am ridiculously happy that I am looking better.

*OK, I'm still tired and pressed for time, but I hadn't found my groove yet then.

A Good Day

2007-08-16T19:33:00.000-04:00

Clearly there are things on my list that I will not complete by next week. That website for the state association? It will have to wait. Writing all my labs in advance? Not going to happen. However, I feel like I can get everything done that MUST be done by Wednesday. The rest will happen when they happen, and no one but me will notice.

I was feeling so confident and in control that this morning I decided to keep Baby M home from daycare so we could run errands and hang out. I often feel guilty that Baby M doesn't get enough attention from me. This is somewhat ironic because when I was pregnant with her, I spent a fair amount of energy worrying that big sister, E, would get lost in the shuffle. As it turns out, E is quite good at staying at or near the center of attention. Whether she is eating fluoridated toothpaste straight from the tube, or commanding me to sing Itsy Bitsy Spider yet again, or begging me to let her help cook, she is impossible to ignore for both positive and negative reasons. Plus, she is awake more and longer than her baby sister* so we get alone time in the evening.

Baby M, on the other hand, is non-verbal and easily dominated by her big sister. Because Baby M can't yet express her desires, the wishes of her sister-- from which Signing Time video to watch to which tub to bathe in tonight--are generally granted. Baby M doesn't seem too grumpy about it--she usually seems quite content to be a part of her big sister's general orbit-- but I worry. This is probably just an expression of guilt for not being able to give her my undivided attention, but it is there, a steady undercurrent.

All this is to say that I was excited to be able to take a day off with Baby M. We went to my office for a while, but mostly we just hung out at home and cuddled and nursed** and practiced taking steps and worked on signs and took long naps and flipped through books (can't really call it reading) and ate yogurt and laughed at the dogs and waved to the garbage collector and tried to crawl into the washing machine (her, not me) and took apart the diaper bag and cuddled some more.

So, it was a good day. It occurs to me that I had a lot more days like this with E, but I didn't realize how important and good they were. I wish now that I had understood just how quickly this stage goes by and had let myself enjoy it a bit more.

On Monday, I'll have E alone for the day. She will have to accompany me to a department meeting because I can't find childcare, but otherwise the day will be ours. I can't wait.

*Actually Baby M is awake far more often at 4 a.m., but that isn't what I consider quality time.

**Yes, yes. I am supposed to be weaning, but it makes her happy. I'll get more serious about it when classes start next week.

Progress

2007-08-14T11:40:00.000-04:00

Thank you, Nico, for the technical help!

I'm making slow progress on this list. I was feeling less panicked until I realized that I don't have any childcare for Little E Monday through Wednesday next week because there is a gap between her last day at her daycare and her first day at her new preschool. J is going to take off on Wednesday because that is my first class day, but she'll have to come to work with me Monday and Tuesday. Joy!

Here is my updated list.

~~Decide on schedule for practicum~~
~~Determine grading scheme for practicum~~
Put practicum readings together in WebCT
~~Put practicum project handout together~~
~~Test software in lab~~
Write lab exercises that utilize software
Write first week of lectures for practicum I have these planned, but not written
~~Put finishing touches on social issues syllabus~~
~~Determine grading scale for social issues~~
~~Investigate pedagogical implications of requiring student blogs in social issues~~
Find a peanut-free food that E will be able to carry for lunch at new school
Get E’s hair trimmed Scheduled
Get my hair trimmed and ~~brows waxed~~ Have made appointment for hair
Meet grad student about our neglected project scheduled
Get pedicure Perhaps this will be a treat after surviving the first week of classes
Call electrician about the short in living room overhead light
Lose five pounds Working on it! Less chocolate and more exercise!
~~Try on my professional clothes to determine what will fit until I lose five pounds~~
Keep trying to wean
Determine guest list for joint birthday party
Order invitations
Order cake
~~Start running~~
Keep running Three days in a row!
~~Update college web page to reflect office hours~~
Find out when my faculty committees/ ~~department meetings are scheduled~~
Bake something to take to Baby M’s nursery the day of her actual birthday
Throw away student tests that are more than three years old (we are required to keep work for three years)
~~Put together WebCT pages for social issues~~
Find shoes for Baby M who, while not walking on her own, likes to hold onto my fingers and walk
Find out if I am already president of state association (the fact that I don’t know if my term has begun is embarrassing)
Get email list for April 2008 conference I am organizing; talk to last year’s organizer
Set up state association web site
Get E's immunization records Should be able to pick these up tomorrow

A Technical Question

2007-08-13T20:38:00.000-04:00

It would be very helpful for me to be able to strikethrough my depressingly long to-do list. However, when I try to cut and paste from Word, Blogger loses my formatting. I do not see a strikethrough button on the Blogger editing menu. Can anyone tell me how to get strikethrough formatting? I know I've seen others bloggers using it.

Nine days and a list from hell

2007-08-12T20:05:00.000-04:00

My classes start on August 22, I am not entirely prepared. Actually, I am not at all prepared, and I’m starting to panic. Sure, I’ve had months to do all this. Many months. Yet here I am, Dr. Procrastinator. It happens that Baby M’s birthday is also on the 22nd. I would be more panicked about that except that we plan to hold a joint party with her sister in September giving me a few more weeks to procrastinate.

This semester I'm teaching two sections of a research practicum and one section of a social issues course. I'm not at all worried about the latter as it is fun and relatively easy to teach.* However, this is my first time teaching the subject matter in this particular practicum, and I find myself struggling with it a bit. I am also on two college-wide committees that are fairly work intensive and I am in the middle of two reserach projects. Things are about to get busy.

In the interest of attempting to organize myself, here is my get-ready for-school list in no particular order:

Decide on schedule for practicum
Determine grading scheme for practicum
Put practicum readings together in WebCT
Put practicum project handout together
Test software in lab
Write lab exercises that utilize software
Write first week of lectures for practicum
Put finishing touches on social issues syllabus
Determine grading scale for social issues
Investigate pedagogical implications of requiring student blogs in social issues
Find a peanut-free food that E will be able to carry for lunch at new school
Get E’s hair trimmed
Get my hair trimmed and brows waxed
Meet grad student about our neglected project
Get pedicure
Call electrician about the short in living room overhead light
Lose five pounds
Try on my professional clothes to determine what will fit until I lose five pounds
Keep trying to wean**
Determine guest list for joint birthday party
Order invitations
Order cake
Start running
Update college web page to reflect office hours
Find out when my faculty committees/ department meetings are scheduled
Bake something to take to Baby M’s nursery the day of her actual birthday
Throw away student tests that are more than three years old (we are required to keep work for three years)
Put together WebCT pages for social issues
Find shoes for Baby M who, while not walking on her own, likes to hold onto my fingers and walk
Find out if I am already president of state association (the fact that I don’t know if my term has begun is embarrassing)
Get email list for April 2008 conference I am organizing; talk to last year’s organizer
Set up state association web site

Oh my! This is a big list and I know there is more that I am blocking. I guess it is good that I tend to do best working to deadlines (except for in the case of that dreadful text).

*I have taught it often enough that I think I could do it note-free for the entire semester. Still, it needs to be updated lest it feel stale.
**Despite taking bottles at daycare, she throws bottles and sippy cups at me when I try to give her milk (even breastmilk) in them. Then I break down and give her a boob. Help!

Melting

2007-08-09T22:25:00.000-04:00

It is 10:30 p.m. and 85 degrees (F) outside. It is 81.9 degrees inside. Today when temperatures climbed into the high 90s and the heat index hit 117, it was 84 degrees inside. Oh yes, our air conditioner sucks (hot) wind. As a result I am cranky, sweaty, and unable to think.

When J left dirty dishes out, I almost exploded. So commenced a short personal journey toward a better understanding of the positive correlation between temperature and homicide rates.

So, anyone know how to sabotage an air conditioner? Ours is covered under our home warranty. However, each time I have called it in, the repairmen have come out and declared it in good working order, just a little low in freon. They charge it and go. It works better for a few days and then we are back to slow baking. The unit is undersized for the house which explains a lot, but still. It must die (and look natural). I can't afford to replace it without help from the warranty company.

Ooh. The CNN man is broadcasting live from downtown. CNN came here to talk about the heat. We are so screwed.

She's having none of it

2007-08-03T15:01:00.000-04:00

Do you like milk in cups?

I do not like it, Mom-who-must-be-nuts.
I do not like milk in cups.

Would you like it here or there?

I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.
I do not like milk in cups.
I do not like it, Mom-who-must-be-nuts.

Would you like it in a house?
Would you like it with a mouse?

I do not like it in a house.
I do not like it with a mouse.
I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.
I do not like milk in cups.
I do not like it, Mom-who-must-be-nuts.

Would you try it in a box?
Would you try it with a fox?

Not in a box.
Not with a fox.
Not in a house.
Not with a mouse.
I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.
I do not like milk in cups.
I do not like it, Mom-who-must-be-nuts.

Would you try it in a cup of blue?
Would you try it if I try some too?

Not in a cup of blue.
Not if you try some too.
I do not like it in a house.
I do not like it with a mouse.
I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.
I do not like milk in cups.
I do not like it, Mom-who-must-be-nuts.

Would you try some from your daddy?
Would you try some in a paddy?

Not from daddy.
Not in a paddy.
I do not like it in a house.
I do not like it with a mouse.
I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.
I do not like milk in cups.
I do not like it, Mom-who-must-be-nuts.

Would you? Could you?
Try some disguised in milk that I’ve expressed
From that place that you like best?

I would not, could not try some disguised in milk that’s been expressed
From the place that I like best.

You may like it.
You will see.
You may like it, my darling pea!

I would not, could not.
In milk that’s been expressed.
Not from daddy.
Not in a paddy.
I do not like it in a house.
I do not like it with a mouse.
I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.
I do not like milk in cups.
I do not like it, Mom-who-must-be-nuts.

A straw! A straw!
A straw! A straw!
Could you, would you, with a straw?

Not with a straw.
Not in milk that’s been expressed.
You are making me depressed!
Not from daddy.
Not in a paddy.
I do not like it in a house.
I do not like it with a mouse.
I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.
I do not like milk in cups.
I do not like it, Mom-who-must-be-nuts.

You do not like milk in cups?

I do not like it, Mom-who-must-be-nuts.

You do not like it.
So you say.
Try it! Try it!
And you may.
Try it and you may, I say.

Mom! If you will let me be, I will try it.
You will see.
Say!
You were wrong and I was right.
This milk in a cup tastes just like tripe.

She loved it

2007-07-27T23:29:00.000-04:00

The batteries on the camera died as we were trying to get shots of Little E in front of Thomas. You'll have to use your imagination. Here are a couple of shots from our ride (which came complete with Deliverance-style mountain folk waving from rickety homemade platforms overlooking the Tuckasegee River).

On vacation

2007-07-26T12:21:00.000-04:00

We are on vacation. With children!

What were we thinking?

J and I decided it was time for a short get away. We live on the coast, but by this time of year the heat, the tourists, and the incessant hurricane talk (Are YOU prepared for another Hugo? Do YOU have enough insurance? Have YOU stocked your hurricane survival kit yet?*) get to us, and we feel the desire for a short escape. So what do we do? We head to the mountains for our turn playing tourists.

We left last night. I had a brilliant plan. Leave after dinner and baths so that the girls would sleep the five hours. It was a great idea in theory, but it didn't work out quite so well in reality.

First, I never should have told Little E where we were going. Especially not the part about seeing Thomas the Train. Looking back, that was a bad idea. Very bad. You see, children two and three quarters years old do not have a well-developed sense of time. So by saying, "We'll ride on Thomas on Friday," I may as well have told her "All aboard!" This meant that she didn't dare close her eyes on the trip up (until the last 20 minutes). If she had been happy to be strapped to her carseat that would have been one thing, but after the first two hours, she was pissed about the whole thing, once telling J, "J, turn this car around NOW. I want to go home." Yes, she called him by his first name. That went over well.

Second, if one child is up throwing wild tantrums, the other child is hard pressed to sleep well. This means that Baby M was awake and not happy for the last two hours of the trip. We had stereo wailing in the back seat.

Finally, the girls were wired after we finally checked into our hotel. So wired that they were both up until 1:30 a.m. No amount of nursing, walking or singing was going to help Baby M go to sleep. Little E stayed up in solidarity.

This morning we went shopping for a fan to produce white noise (I can't sleep without it-how we left mine, I don't know) and a sit and stand stroller.** Why we have waited until 11 months for a sit and stand, I don't know, but Little M can't walk as far here so a double stroller was definitely in order. Coming from the Lowcountry, she is unaccustomed to hills and we have lots of walking planned. After their nap, we are going up into the mountains to see the house my in-laws are building. I have mixed feelings about their vacation home (a place in the mountains-cool! more time with the in-laws- Ugh!).

Tomorrow is Thomas Day. I'll post pics.

*Our answers are no, no and no.
**And a big bottle of wine. For the whining.

Weaning

2007-07-13T21:01:00.001-04:00

M will be 11 months next week. My breastfeeding goal was to make it to a year, and I do believe we will do this (no thanks to lazy lefty). I am planning to commence with day weaning after we take a family vacation to the N.C. mountains at the end of this month. Thanks to my frozen stash, M should be able to get breast milk during the day right up until the one year mark when I will switch her to whole milk and start night weaning. The photo at left doesn't do my stash justice: the entire bottom shelf of a stand-up freezer is full and there is more in the house. How did that happen?

Why I look forward to weaning

I am tired of being hooked to the pump three times a day. My inner heifer is rebelling, I suppose.
When I go to my office, I look like a bag lady.
Nursing bras aren't sexy, cute, or even sporty.
I dress for nursing and pumping access, not for fashion.
I'm still hanging onto eight extra pounds, and I blame nursing.
I smell like maple syrup from fenugreek consumption.
My DD girls need their own zip code.
Eight razor sharp baby teeth and more where they came from.

Why the thought of weaning makes me sad

After a disastrous nursing experience with E, I feel a certain sense of accomplishment this time.
Some days it feels like the only quality one-on-one time I get with M is while we are nursing.
M doesn't seem ready. She is very much a boob baby, crawling at breakneck speed to find me when she wants to nurse. The cadence of hands and feet on hardwood signals her intent. When I lift her to me, she buries her head in my chest and starts protesting at the clothes that are in her way. How am I going to say no to that?
I'm not quite sure how to go about weaning. Drop one feeding a week? Every few days? Switch to a cup or stick with the bottle? Nurse for comfort? Find another comfort object?
Because, despite all my anxiety about not being able to meet her needs, I did it, I enjoyed it, and I found it life affirming.
I know that she is probably my last child and weaning closes a chapter of my life.

Priorities in order

2007-07-08T20:27:00.000-04:00

Is it pathetic that, given a choice of long weekends to take a quick mountain vacation, I said no to the weekend that the last Harry Potter book will delivered to my door?

Recipe Swap

2007-07-05T21:21:00.000-04:00

Nico is hosting a recipe swap for quick and easy recipes that are good as leftovers and/or easy to prepare. Here is one of my favorite summer recipes that is easy and doesn't involve heating up the kitchen. This can be served as a side dish, but I think that it is hearty enough to be a main course if served with a whole grain roll.

Marinated Black Bean Salad
3 cans of black beans, drained
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1 Tbs grainy dijon mustard
salt/pepper to taste
1 medium red onion, chopped
2 medium tomatoes, diced (use one can of diced if you don't have fresh tomatoes)
1 red onion sliced for garnish (optional)

Mix tomatoes, black beans, onion.
Mix oil, vinegar, salt/pepper, mustard and drizzle over bean mixture. I don't usually use the entire vinaigrette.
Place sliced onions on top.
Chill overnight. Serve cool.

Back to the office

2007-07-05T13:41:00.000-04:00

For the better part of a year, I have avoided my campus office like the plague. I cleared out last June and did my level best to stay away through family leave and then a sabbatical. I can't point to any one thing fueling my desire to stay away and to work from home. The baby was a huge part of it, course, but there were other reasons.

Rats, for instance.

My office is located in the attic of a building on the historic register (or so I'm told). It is old and dusty. In the recent past it was infested with rats the size of small house cats. Oh yes, office vermin! Such an authentic link to the past! We should put it on the campus tour. I was so afraid of my rodent invaders that I would knock on my door before entering the office so they could scamper back to their hiding places in the walls. Getting rid of them was a comedy in three acts. First, the maintenance guys brought traps over and baited these with peanut butter. In the mornings before I would enter, I would send someone else into the office to check the traps. There were never any bodies to dispose of. Instead, all the peanut butter had been licked off and there were often little peanut butter rat tracks back to the bank of cabinets lining my office. One maintenance guy was so certain that the traps were malfunctioning that he tested one. With his finger. The traps were in perfect condition. His finger, alas, was not. This incident confirmed my fear that the rats were, in fact, smarter than people. When it became apparent that traps wouldn't work, the college contracted with an outside exterminator who baited the office with rat poison. The rats ate the rat poison, but it did not kill them. I suspect this is because they were super rats for whom rat poison was the equivalent of Popeye's spinach. What finally worked was putting a new roof on the building. Apparently there were holes under the slate of the old roof which provided an on-ramp for the rat super highway that ran through my office.

All this is to say that a healthy and sustained fear of rats is one reason I stayed away. You never know when they'll be back.

A Terrible Method for Putting Things in Perspective, Part II

2007-06-20T21:07:00.000-04:00

Most evenings after feeding the family, bathing the children and getting M to bed, I leave J and E to read stories, and I take a walk. Most of the time, I walk to a nearby river to watch the dolphins feeding and to take in the setting sun. On Monday, I departed from this ritual and opted instead to walk an urban trail that runs between my neighborhood and one of the main thoroughfares in my city.

I set out around 6:45 and walked for about half an hour before turning around. The trail was fairly busy with kids on mountain bikes, runners, and couples getting in their evening exercise. When I was about half a mile out, I noticed a sickening chemical smell and wondered if someone had burned some household trash. It was unpleasant, and it burned my eyes, but the smell only lasted a few hundred feet and then was gone. I put it out of my mind.

When I turned around after a half hour to head home, I immediately noticed a thick plume of black, black smoke rising in the air in the distance. The meaning of the chemical smell became apparent; it was obviously a structural fire. With sirens—fire, ambulance, police-- wailing in the distance, I walked back toward the source of the smoke. The closer I got, the clearer it became that this was a massive fire.

I exited the trail and started walking toward the sirens and bright lights. I was not alone. As if led by the Pied Piper, a line of us walked toward the commotion and the heat. Motorists rolled down their windows to ask what was happening. Kids on bikes excitedly raced past.

I was awestruck by the fire. A warehouse was aflame and it was the most intense thing I have ever seen. Flames were shooting into the air. It sounded like that cereal that snaps, crackles and pops. It smelled hot. Waves of heat enveloped the crowd that had gathered. Firefighters on ladder trucks aimed water over the top of the structure. I felt self-conscious taking pictures with my cell phone camera until I noticed that others were doing the same. The impromptu gathering took on a carnival atmosphere; I think those of us in the crowd shared the assumption that all firefighting efforts were taking place from a safe distance outside the building.

Imagine then, my horror upon learning later that evening that maybe two to three fire fighters were missing. Imagine then, the horror upon learning the next morning that nine firefighters had lost their lives in the inferno.

To get out of my neighborhood, I have to pass the store and warehouse that burned. It has become a shrine of sorts. In front of the police tape and ATF trailers, someone has placed nine white crosses. There are flowers. Teddy bears. Notes. People stop and cry. Their grief is captured by the national press which is out in force. It is surreal. It is sad. I didn't know any of the men killed Monday, but I still feel a deep sense of loss.

Update

2007-06-16T21:34:00.001-04:00

Thanks for the kind comments on my previous post. We all survived the week.

My mother's cancer had not spread and she will require no treatment beyond the surgery. The growth the surgeon removed form her liver was just a cyst and the enlarged ovary was the result of a benign condition. She'll have an annual colonoscopy to monitor for recurrence, but she is considered cured at this point. She is still hospitalized, but she should be out by Monday or Tuesday.

Here are some highlights from the week:

Thursday morning, the first morning after the surgery, I was the child on duty to visit my mother first. I left M with my sister-in-law and borrowed a car from my sister-in-laws' father which I almost wrecked on the way to the hospital by stalling during a left-hand turn. In my defense, I have never driven a car with a clutch that tight despite a great deal of experience with manual transitions including my current car. After I arrived at the hospital, I could not figure out how to get the key out of the ignition. Then I couldn't find the owner of the car or anyone who knew how to remove it. They had to page my brother out of a meeting so he could tell me the trick (a latch that you slide as you turn the key). All I can say is damn you, Ford. No wonder you are losing market share.

I have seen the future and it isn't pretty. My mother's whining and complaining do not bode well for how she will handle aging. She already complains bitterly about everything, but the surgery just exaggerated these tendencies. I guess it would be different if she complained in a nice way, but that didn't happen. I witnessed her harassing two nurses when they couldn't find her veins: "I'm going to write the hospital a letter telling them that there ARE better ways to do this."*

Speaking of which, I'm not cut out for nursing parents. I fed my mom ice chips, brushed her teeth, brushed her hair and tried to help her out of bed, but I felt anxious the whole time especially when I realized she was going commando-- I thought I might need intensive talk therapy, if not drugs after that. How do people care for their parents for extended periods of time? Does it get easier? Do my parents have the finances in place for long term care?

Baby M and I stayed with my brother. He and his wife are on the fence as to whether to have another child** so they keep a crib in the spare bedroom, but not a bed. I learned that I am too old to sleep on air mattresses. By morning, enough air had leaked that parts of me had sunk to the ground and other parts were buoyed by air pockets. I will bring a sleeping bag next time and just sleep on the floor. It will be better. Despite a somewhat uncomfortable night, it was nice to stay with my brother's family.

E came home (she and J stayed with my in-laws) and promptly developed another mystery fever that has lasted two days thus far. This makes three in the past 8 weeks. I'm starting to get concerned. Except for the high fever, she has no other symptoms. Strange.

M is about to cut a new tooth and has been cranky. I can see the tooth, her third, under the gum so I think that the misery will end soon. Of course, there are many more to come. Sigh.

I've decided to move back to my campus office (I've been on maternity leave and sabbatical since August and have been mostly home-based.). I'm looking forward to more of a separation between home and work. More on that later next week as I move my base of operations.

*I have the same skinny, temperamental veins, so while I understand that being stuck four times for one blood draw or IV is not optimal, I have never harassed a nurse about it. Especially not one who is responsible for providing my pain meds and emptying my bladder.

**I'm guessing they will have another and that I'll experience a certain amount of baby envy before giving over to total delight to being an aunt again.

Just shoot me

2007-06-06T21:11:00.000-04:00

Quick! Someone find me a therapist (and not that bitch from the Sopranos). I have mother issues.

My mother has been diagnosed with cancer and is about to have surgery and I am feeling. . .

[Drumroll]

Resentment. When I reach deep and try to identify the dominant emotion that is gripping me these days, it isn’t fear or sadness or anxiety that rises to the top of the stew. No, it is resentment. My hospital-phobic brother called me this afternoon to complain about my mother's complaining and stream of orders. It seems that he is feeling resentful too.

Nearly a week after her diagnosis, my fears have come true. My mother is in full-blown crisis mode. She is panicked, mournful, bossy, controlling, and eager for attention. Her energy to complain and whine and complain some more seems limitless. She is a force of nature.

So far she has:

called everyone she can think of to share her “very sad news.” I guess she doesn’t trust her social network to get the word out. I asked if I could tell a mutual acquaintance here (we live in a city a few hours from her). She informed that she had already called and had a "very nice chat" with the acquaintance.
asked a church acquaintance who is battling Stage 4 colon cancer to accompany her to her appointments. As if she needs to spend what's left of her time in more hospitals and doctors' offices. The woman had the good sense to demur.
asked a friend to spend the night in the hospital with her despite my brother and my offers of hiring a night nurse.
called to tell me that the CT technician hurt her hand with the IV used in her scan. So she cried (literally) and demanded a supervisor take over.
arranged for her prayer group to be at the hospital during her surgery.
demanded that my brothers and I are at the hospital during her procedure. I was planning to do this, but my especially hospital-phobic brother is none-too-pleased.
told me she expects me to hold hands and sing Kumbaya or whatever with her preacher and prayer group. She knows I am an avowed agnostic and perhaps an atheist, but she doesn’t care. When I told her that I would be respectful of the group, but would not be holding hands and praying aloud, she started crying. Oh yeah. Maybe guilt will help me find God.
demanded that I bring the children and stay with her when she is released from the hospital. I'm not doing this for reasons I'll have to write about later.
told me over and over that she is feeling sorry for herself, but that it is natural to feel sorry for herself because this is just so tragic.

As you are reading this, perhaps you are thinking that we are jerks. Ungrateful children. Selfish. And maybe we are.

However, our response to our mother’s emotional outbursts, machinations, and directives is conditioned upon a lifetime of trying to manage her emotional outbursts, machinations, and directives. I guess a cancer diagnosis isn’t enough to overcome this.

Rain!

2007-06-02T17:57:00.000-04:00

Tropical Depression Barry, I love you.

Perfect Storm

2007-05-31T21:21:00.001-04:00

A few observations about my mother: First, she is a drama queen who is happiest in times of crisis. Second, she oversteps boundaries, especially those of her children. Finally, she is a score-keeper. I offer a few illustrations of each of these.

The Drama Queen
Example One: In the months preceding my wedding, my parents separated. Every day, my mother would call me with the latest round of complaints about my father. She found a way to make sure that everyone from the caterers to the wedding guests knew about the separation and how she was doing her best "to put on a happy face in this difficult time." For instance, when I sent my photo to the paper and asked that my photograph be labeled "Ms. B" instead of "Mrs. JM" (I did not change names), she called the editor and told her that I was absolutely changing my name and was just reacting to my parents' very sad separation. *
Example Two: When anything happens to one of her children---from fender benders to surgery--she immediately calls her prayer groups and prayer lists and whips everyone into a frenzy. When I was about to have nerve damage caused by E's vacuum birth surgically corrected**, she put that on the prayer list. Some things--and I include my hoo-hoo as one of them--just don't need to be the subject of strangers' prayers.

Boundaries, Schmoundaries
Example One: When J and I were fairly newly married, my mother brought her handyman to our house. He was supposed to fix the bathroom floor which was sagging. She decided she may as well have him paint the bathroom while he was there without so much as a "Hey, how would you feel about having your bathroom painted Smurf blue?" We were not amused.
Example Two: When I was in the hospital after having E, my mother resdistributed the furniture in my house, rearranged my kitchen and reorganized J and my drawers. I had a hormone induced meltdown upon discovering this.

Keeping Score
Example One: At Christmas, she spends precisely the same amount of money on each child and grandchild. Sometimes, we'll get an odd check for the $7.63 , but more often she makes a stocking and fills it with hideous items from the dollar store to make up the difference in what she has spent.
Example Two: She keeps a list of what each child has done for her lately: My brother M mowed her lawn when we were in town. However, Brother S cleaned her pool for her the week before. Therefore, it was my responsibility to do all the dishes during our visit on Sunday.

So there you have it, my mother is an attention-seeking-knows-no-boundaries-scorekeeping-drama queen.*** Who has just been diagnosed with colon cancer. It is the perfect storm. Stay tuned.

*They reunited shortly after my wedding. I did not change my name.
**I had a vestibulectomy-very painful, but effective.
***I know this sounds harsh. I do love her, but she makes me a little nuts.

Time to start a conversation

2007-05-25T19:21:00.000-04:00

It doesn't seem right to complain about your marriage the same week a friend has lost her husband. It feels a little like when I complained about pregnancy after experiencing infertility--shouldn't I just be grateful already?

J and I have been together 17 years this summer, and we celebrated our 14th anniversary in February (by celebrate, I mean that we traded greeting cards). We've had rough patches here and there and there have been times that I've wanted to run away, but things have always gotten better. Things aren't bad now. They just aren't great.

So what's wrong?

When we were first together, we had to be in physical contact with one another. Sitting next to one another. Holding hands. Touching in some way. It was probably sickening. Last summer I bought a king size bed so there would be less physical contact. It isn't as if I expect to sustain the passion that we had earlier in our relationship, but I'm not sure the embers are even warm anymore.

Speaking of which. What about sex? What about that? We had a decent, if predictable, sex life right up until we were in the midst of trying to conceive. That pretty much killed it. Now, two children later, I am actually annoyed when J tries to start things. Once I saw a show on the animal channel in which the female large ferocious mammal almost took off the head of the male large ferocious mammal when he attempted to mount her. She looked pissed and annoyed. Like me! He looked bewildered. Like J. I cackled in delight. Take that, Mr. Horny! I totally get that the whole lack of sex thing is all my fault (though I do think that breastfeeding and being dog tired contribute to my decided lack of enthusiasm), but I don't care enough to do something about it. How sad is that?

Then there is the communication. Or lack thereof. We don't talk anymore. At least we don't talk to each other. We tend to talk at each other and then get pissed when we are ignored. For instance, J asked last night if a friend of mine is pregnant. Weeks ago, I had gone into great detail about how she was pregnant. I didn't realize it at the time, but he was giving me the "great, honey" treatment:

Me: Friend A is pregnant! I was right! I suspected this for at least a month. Isn't it great. Our kids will be close enough in age to play.

J: That's great, honey. [while watching The Simpsons]

I'm sure I give him the "great, honey" treatment, too.

J: Wow. The Braves, blah, blah, blah. Home run. Blah, blah. Pitchers. Blah, blah. Yankees. Blah.

Me: That's great, honey. [while reading blogs]

There is more. Bad attitudes. Annoying habits. Some disagreements over the best way to discipline a certain headstrong two-year-old. But nothing is toxic about our marriage.

I'm at a loss as to where to start to make things better. I think it would help to have a date night once in a while, but that is very expensive and we are already spending what we earn plus some. I think that as the children get older and less demanding that we may have more time and energy, too. In the meantime, maybe it is time to start a conversation about this. I love J too much to let things stay like this.

A terrible method for puting things in perspective

2007-05-23T23:32:00.000-04:00

Last week's underwhelming Mother's Day, E's terrible twodom, M's refusal to eat anything that hasn't been pureed just so, the roof that is a structural disaster--all of these are just ant hills. I wish it didn't take tragic news to remind me of this.

Last week, I made plans to take the kids to the aquarium with B, a French adjunct with whom I am friendly. It is impossible not to be friendly with B; she is seriously peppy. It would probably be annoying, but the French accent makes it rather endearing. "Bonjour! Bonjour!" she greets me each morning as I huff and puff up the steep stairs to my office. B and I were pregnant at the same time, and we both had girls. We aren't close, but we do get together for coffee and our girls attend one another's parties and are slated to be classmates in the fall.

When I last spoke to her last Thursday, B was as happy as ever. She was looking forward to her husband's return from an extended business trip and was hoping to fill the time with beach trips and play dates. Her husband, E, is Filipino. I can't remember the story of how they wound up in the U.S., but I'm sure they told me. Their daughter looks exactly like him. In fact, when I visited after the birth, she proudly held up her little bundle of joy and told me, "I made an Asian baby!" Did I mention she is peppy?

Last Friday, I tried to call B to get her cell phone number because I was concerned that the baby's nap would make us late to our Saturday aquarium date. Her cousin answered the phone. I remembered B telling me that her cousin's English was "very bad, very bad" and considering that my French is worse, all I could get out of her cousin was that B was out and would not be home until Saturday. Given our difficulties speaking, I assumed that she misspoke. I called back Saturday morning an hour before we were to meet at the aquarium. Once again, the cousin told me to call later. It was odd, but I thought that perhaps B had made a quick trip to see her husband and had car trouble.

Later that afternoon I received an email from another friend, "I just received word that B's husband, E, was killed in an automobile accident yesterday."

I had a physical reaction to the news: my stomach clenched and my heart pounded wildly. Pure shock. It was just unreal. It is still unreal. And so very unfair. She is in the U.S. alone, save for a cousin who happened to be visiting. She will raise a daughter alone. She didn't get to say goodbye.

I've not seen her or spoken to her. No one I know has seen her yet. We are all giving her space until she is ready for visitors. However, she has been sending emails. Late at night. They are full of rage and pain. She sounds furious with the driver of the car* (he "is intact and E is dead.") She speaks of being full of regret for not having joined him on this business trip as if she could have stopped this from happening. She speaks of their recent decision to have another child. She sounds so grim. So raw. I have to have a box of tissue handy when opening them.

Sometimes when I hear of someone who is losing or has lost a spouse to a lengthy illness, I think that it might be easier to lose your loved one suddenly. But I'm not sure. Maybe a long, slow goodbye is better. There is closure. Time to plan. I don't know.

This weekend, B will bury her husband in the Northeast where they lived before coming here. When she returns, I hope she will feel up to receiving visitors. However, I think it is going to be a long while before I hear a joyful "Bonjour! Bonjour!" again.

*I googled a newspaper account of the accident. The driver lost control of the car and the car went down an embankment, hit a tree on the passenger side, spun around and hit another tree on the driver side. In an email, B said they had been attending a "function" so I would not be surprised to learn that alcohol was involved.

Blocked

2007-05-22T21:48:00.000-04:00

I have so much to write about and yet I have nothing to write about. The material is there, but the words aren't coming. Maybe this is writer's block?

I could write:

about the untimely and tragic death of a friend's husband.

about M turning nine months.

about my frustrations with E.

about not wanting to visit my parents this weekend.

about feeling vaguely dissatisfied with my marriage.

about the ongoing struggle to lose weight.

about being happy that my television programs are all ending this week.

about the structural repairs our home requires.

about trying to embrace my research.

about being nearly ready to day wean.

about the Ann Taylor spree I intend to have when I lose five more pounds.

Clearly I have plenty of material. Perhaps the thing to do is to choose one thing from my list and write about it each day. Yes, that is what I'll do.

Tomorrow I will write about the death of my friend's husband. It isn't an uplifting story, of course, but it has me thinking about what I would do if the unthinkable were to happen.

Mother's Day Number Three

2007-05-13T21:40:00.000-04:00

It is probably a good thing that in my cynical heart I am convinced that Mother's Day, Father's Day, Grandparents Day and other such holidays* are simply marketing vehicles for greeting card companies, florists and other commercial interests. Otherwise today might have gone down as a disappointment. Actually, it does go down as a disappointment, but it might have been worse had my expectations been high.

Here is a summary of the day for your reading pleasure.

6 Wake despite having declared --just the evening before-- that I would be sleeping in and only wanted to be interrupted long enough to nurse M. Remind self that I DESERVE to sleep in. Roll over.

6:15 Wake again wondering which child is going to wake first. Remind self that I am sleeping in. Roll Over.

6:20 E is moaning at her door. "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy." J rolls out of bed and I remind him that it is Mother's Day and I am sleeping in. He goes to deal with E.

6:25 I hear J pleading with E to move away from the door so he can open it. She refuses and blocks the door with her body continuing to moan, "Mommy. I want my mommy."

6:27 Can't take it anymore. Decide to deal with E who is now sobbing, "My mommy. My Mommy." I ask her to move away form the door and the sobs stop. She steps away from the door. Decide to return to bed and continue sleeping in.

6:28 J asks if I'll "Just take E to use the potty" before I resume my sleep-in. E refuses to go unless I pick her up. She has wet her pull-ups overnight and they have leaked onto her pajamas and now onto me.

6:29 Change E, change me, decide to continue my lazy morning in bed.

7:00 Wake. Why isn't M up yet? She is sleeping great. Maybe something is wrong with her?
Don't be silly. She is sleeping more soundly now that these tubes are in . Most babies sleep 12 hours. Roll over.

7:25 Wake. Maybe E put another toy in M's crib last night and she has choked to death on a little part. Stop. Being. Neurotic. Sleep.

7:45 Wake. She has been sleeping almost 13 hours. Is that OK? Should try to continue sleeping in.

8:00 Phew. I hear her. Go get her. Nurse.

8:15 Well I'm up now. May as well stay up.

8:15-
9 Clean kitchen. Play with kids. Note that E is running a fever of 101.1.

9:00 Open Mother's Day card and unwrapped CD of a band I've never heard of.

10-12 J goes for a 12 mile run. On Mother's Day. Watch Maisy Mouse and Disney Playhouse over and over. Feel brain turning to jello. Put M down for morning nap. She sleeps for two hours. Is that OK?

12 E requests a quesadilla for lunch. I make it and she eats one tiny bite. Fever up to 102.6.

12:30 Attempt to feed M cottage cheese. She gags on the curds. What is wrong with her? Who gags on cottage cheese? She grabs the spoon and is soon wearing cottage cheese and sweet potatoes.**

12:30 Put E down for a nap. Decide to take my very own Mother's Day nap. Slide into bed and close eyes. Bliss!

12:31 Attempt to ignore the screams of "Mommy. My mommy" coming from the next room.

12:45 Kind of hard to take a nap with the wailing and gnashing of teeth next door.

1:15 Give up. Abort nap.

1:45 Allow E out of her room.

2:00 Put M down for a nap.

2-3 Put "Potty Time Elmo" in the DVD player. Worst Elmo video ever, yet E wants to watch it and a little reinforcement can't hurt. Or maybe it can. As E sits in my lap, I feel something wet and warm spreading down the front of my pants. "I accident on you," E says earnestly.

3:15 Play Memory with E. Repeatedly rescue M who has crawled under the coffee table and is enraged that she is bumping her head when she tries to sit up.

5:00 Take E, who is now running a fever of over 102, to Food Lion just to get her out of the house. She insists on wearing her sunglasses into the store. She rides in the back of the cart slightly dazed and wearing shades. It occurs to me that other adults may think I have a stoned kid on my hands.

5:30-7 Feed and bathe M. Bathe E. Put girls to bed. Collapse.

7-10 Eat dinner (refried beans), sort through bills, surf net.

10 Start blog entry and pump.

See. It wasn't an awful day, but it wasn't my "ideal" Mother's Day either. I'm sure next year will be better. Maybe I'll get to sleep in.

*Please somebody tell me there is no In-Laws Day.

**I don't really think these compliment one another, but she'll eat almost anything.

Why is it. . .

2007-04-26T13:00:00.000-04:00

that my very short bad haircut can't grow out fast enough, but the hairs on my chin are working on some kind of growth record? Why?