random

LaLa met a rosebush the hard way. I actually had to pick a lodged thorn out of her cheek. She cried for less than one minute. She cried for the entire two hours that I left her in nursery by herself for the first time yesterday. Meh.








The designated chair. See "Lack of Nest" post.... I lack the linking skilz.

Girlee Update

LaLa pronouces tea party as "pee potty" and adds "ie" to the end of most nouns. LaLa do you want some monkey juice?
"Muccky doocie doocie?"
She is a much tighter mirror of me and my verbal oddities than Birdie ever was. Poor LaLa.

Birdie did a fabulous ballet dance for everyone waiting in line at Little Ceasars the other nite. People describe her as "animated." I say she hasn't nor is likely ever to have any shame. The jury is out on whether that means "poor Birdie."

Pearl is running out of room and her kicks have become squggles. We are both getting waaaay to big.

My Inner Hippy

It has been just a titch over a year and a half since I last popped a wee bairn, and yet I cannot remember what the heck I'm s'posed to pack to take to the hospital... yeah hospital. No midwifery or homebirthery for ME! I am the original under-cover-older-mother, and I feel much better having the height of modern technology at my beck and call. Y'know, just in case. Therefore we go to Utah Vally Regional Medical Center 'cause the NICU rocks! They have all the cool gizmos including a very expensive machine that goes "ping." But as I have mentioned previously, I do like to give a nod to all that is Hippy and Holistic, so Dr.J is my answer. He's some kinda plain old practitioner with a wack-job side to him. I think there is even an extra set of letters that his general wackiness adds to his title. Dr.J PhD. HiPPy. Don't get me wrong, he's no dirthead guy, he's very clean cut with a conventional family, practice, and over all professionally. Just he also will do things like "prescribe" Xango juice for a sore throat (it actually works! I call it Dr.J's Hippy Juice), give ya a little hush-hush chiropracty (he's not actually licenced, but I hobbled in and later walked out of the office) and is not above a little levity at a patients expence. Like when I tested positive for Strep B with my last pregnancy. I was pretty distressed... how the heck did I catch such a thing?

"Well, it has to do with poor hygiene more than anything..." he says.
(me, jaw dropping)
"WAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Sorry, no we don't really know it's just one of those things! Wahahahaha!" (him, wiping eyes).

One of my favorites was the Head and Shoulders shampoo that he recommended for Birdies really bad baby acne. Once a week put the shampoo on the cheeks and allow to set for a few minutes then wash off. Something along those lines. Once again it actually worked.

Wait back up. What the heck do ya mean "under-cover-older-mother?" you ask. Let's just say that I robbed the cradle when I married, got a verrrrrrrry late start on having kids by Happy Valley standards, and have a sweet and chubby baby face to boot. It kills me, once my girls hit the serious 3 month old pudge everybody just ooo's and ahh's over how they look "just like their mama!" Ahhhyep. You may not have noticed that any baby with a bit of chunk to their face bears a striking resemblance to me. So combine that with surprisingly good skin tone. and the fact that it's kinda hard to detect the 36 year old sag on a... shall we call it "FULL FIGURE," it's a little hard to place me agewise. I have noticed that with NO EXCEPTION every mother that I meet thinks that I am however old they are, or they assume that they are older by a few years. At least in this neighborhood they are almost always wrong. I don't really mind too much till people forget the pecking order and get a little "advice happy" with me. Sigh.

Dem Hormonal Thangs

Wow...
I teared up reading Darings letter, see:something that sounds very similar. That is SO what happens, only scaled down to two or three weeks in my case! It was way worse with little Birdie mostly because I was up against all the new-mom issues as well as the freakout, and I wasn't prepared. But with LaLa I just about lost it anyway. These hormonal issues... dahhhhgh!

Last year out of the blue I got hit with two months in a row of BLACK and VILE pms. K, well not totally out of the blue, I had just stopped nursing LaLa. I knew that my hormones were lying to me, but it didn't change the fact that a part of my mind was telling me to take a hammer to my own skull. Luckily each session only lasted two to three days, but what mom of young children can call everything off and hide out in a dark room for even ONE day?

So after darkandvile# 2 I hit my doctors office. Dr. J offered to prescribe the old standbys, but the only thing that sounded even vaguely interesting was the Prozac that you can take once a month when your cycle is about to start (technically it's the Prozac that is a once a week pill, but he has had lots of success with women problems just aiming it at the time specific trouble-zone, aka. PMS). In the end we decided to go with the Progesterone Cream to be used around my cycles. It has made all the difference in the world. So far. Here is hoping for a better, kinder post-partum for us all.

I started using Arbonne's cream, but have now moved on to some funky concoction that my moms endocrinologist has whipped up for his patients... it's more cost effective. But basically this stuff does not require a presciption to obtain. For the record, I am far from being against prescription drug use to deal with these issues, I just feel lucky that I can stick with the hippy methods for now. And I think that ole' Tom Cruise, if there is any justice, is about to paaaaayyyyyy for his remarks and attitudes. Or rather Katie will pay and I hope she returns the favor. Sigh ... but there rarely is any justice, and he will never, never know what a twit he is.

On a lighter note, Mr.Dadguy just put a lock on our bathroom door as well as a new seat on our toilet all in the time it took me to write this. No small feat considering he had the assistance of Birdie.

girls and punkins

Lack of Nest

So much for my "nesting." Last week I just chalked my lack of instinct up to the stink-nasty round of health issues that have been spinning around the house, but today I have simply concluded that my nesting is just not going to happen. Not that it has been all that impressive in the past. At least with the Bird I had an actual nursery prepared, complete with crib, dresser, and darling little layette all ready to welcome the sweet fledgling home. With LaLa I had a brand new suitie to bring her home from the hospital and a quilt I had made just for her. Right now I'm not even sure where I'm gonna put this new little girl... and any clothes that she has that are new is not due to any effort on my part. I certainly don't have a designated take home outfit. The crib is in pieces and actually needs some replacement parts before we put it back together... Birdie darned near rocked that sucker to pieces and LaLa, with her far more modest rockage finished the job. That's why she sleeps in a big girl bed at the tender age of 19 months. That and we didn't want her to feel like the baby was stealing her bed when it came down to the time to actually inhabit the crib. Although we have till the kid is almost three months old before she is likely to use it.

Y'see we have the "designated chair" that our babies spend the first three months of their lives in. The poor thing is UUUUUUUUUUgly, and the guts are crumbling out. But throw a thick tapestry cloth over the top and it is the most comfortable seat in existence. We nurse, I stand and place comatose baby on seat of chair wedged up against arm or back and walk away. This was more the scene with LaLa than Birdie, but I pretty much plan to do the same with upcoming Pearl. I'm just not a 100% on where the chair will live. Right now the chair resides in the bay window space in my bedroom... on MY SIDE of the bed no less.

Let me tell you why it is not likely to stay there. In our house we DO NOT CO-SLEEP and there is NO SUCH THING as a family bed. This is not because I am morally against it or whatever... I've read in forums where folks can get into some pretty nasty name calling and judgements on each other about what is best. Naw, the fact of the matter is that I get post-partum freakout. Not the baby blues, and it can't really be characterized as depression, what I go through is just plain old freakish freakdom. My brand of freakishness may have alot to do with the doubling of my dose of thyroid medication over the course of each pregnancy followed by an immediate drop in my need of the higher level meds after the baby is born. Maybe it's tied to whatever delays my milk production till almost 7 days after the baby comes. Whatever it is, I cannot sleep within two rooms of a baby. They snuffle. They peep. They groan and squeak and every sound they make sends adrenaline searing through my veins. The nights I have spent laying with my teeth clenched together, hands balled in sweaty fists as I try to control my breathing, the "fight or flight" instinct causing my whole body to shake...it ain't pretty.

Maybe this time it''ll be different. My doc.... we'll call him Dr.J here, has me using Progesterone Cream in the hopes of evening things out, and oh yeah, getting my milk to come in before the Pearly girlie starves to death. Maybe.
Meantime I'm just trying to catch up on the laundry. Hmmmmmmmm but I probably COULD make a quilt in time....

K, so they were both down by 8:20 pm and I am a whiner, big deal.

Here is a pix of my sweet birdie and Skellington Jack her boyfriend. Yup, she kisses him when she thinks I'm not looking.

This is also the October Glory Maple of which we are absurdly proud, that we purchaced and planted earlier this year... notice the odd rings in the grass.

Dental Games

That Mr. Dadguy is the only reader so far.... and he was truly appalled at the height of the pedestal that I had stuck him on. Whassah maddah deah, you scared of heights? That's ok, 'cause I'm yanking him back down today for him going off to game at the horrifying hour of 7:30pm, aka the middle of bedtime procedures. Yup that's right, he's leaving me all alone tonite to wrassel the girls into bed. Sheeeze, thanks.

That's right y'all, I married a gamer. Most people don't understand adult "gamers" they think gamers should just grow up and give up. I know his parents sure do, and sometimes I feel a little short with the quantity of time that goes into pursuit of the game, like when it cuts into gettin' my fair share of nookie. Of course at this point in my pregnancy, with my poor, sad old relaxin strained hip joints, frozen tail bone, generally sore groin area combined with a solid dose of arthritis in my lower back/pelvic region, to say nuthin' of sheer gargantuan SIZE it ain't so much nookie as it is
noo-
ouch, no roll over that way, owowowowowow! ok that's better
-kie.

Back to the gaming. When I met him he was in an online Clan that played Team Fortress Classic, a blood and guts capture the flag game. Frankly, I am quite proud of the calibre of player that mah man is... He has spanked pretty much all the husbands in the neighborhood, plus a lot of guys online in a wide array of games. Now I'm not just talking smack on his behalf because I must qualify the previous by saying that he is not what he once was, so please don't try and challenge him to some kinda gamers duel. The man has 2 highly active daddy's girls and a demanding wife with a high -maintenance pregnancy. Oh, and a time intensive church calling. Still, it gets me a touch hot when the guys in the hood talk about how cool Mr Dadguy is and how he will sneak up and pistol whip their character down in Halo while they are carting around a beastly arsenal. Pistol whipping= hard to do, big arsenal=still not enough to take him down. Face it, however, proud or not when it comes to ducking out on nigh-night time... well that doesn't earn a whole lotta points.

Some of you are now thinking to yerself, when is the yanking going to commence? Well, I'm done, that's as far as I go because of a little trip I took to the dentist today. A trip that the aforementioned Mr. Dadguy is gonna hafta pay for. Technically the insurance paid for the visit, but if you think that one measly little cleaning and check-up is the end of my tale of woe, well sit back and relax 'cause this will only hurt a little. Dentists.... gahhk!

Once upon a time I had AWESOME teeth if I do say so my very own self. I used to have indestructo teeth that could withstand the assault of tobacco, coffee and grinding amounts of drugs that make you grind yer teeth. My pearlies and I survived nicely until the real assault began. Babies. They sucked the marrow from my bones and the Hoo-raw from my teeth. My Sister-in-Law is a Nutritionist student at BYU, complete with bio, and chem classes. She could explain to you all the reasons why and how having babies can kill your teeth, just suffice it to say that now my teeth SUCK. I have sad and weak-kneed little corn kernels hiding out in my mouth, trembling for fear that I might try to chew ice or some other dentally irresponsible thing. But that will only account for the old pre-teen filling that got partially chipped and now has to be replaced, along with a good sized cavity in the next door neighbor tooth. No, no the thing that galls and rankles... the thing that HURTS, and the thing that coincidentally is gonna end up costing right out the wazoo is the bleeping crown that I has lived in my mouth for all of a year and a half. The one that hurt worse than the hook-nasty-root-canal that it serves to protect. Yeah the crown that six months after I had put in my mouth I asked the dentist to look at 'cause it still hurt. Yeah, the one where he told me oh... you need to step up your hygiene... you have gingivitis and need to floss better and use Listerine.

If you can't tell, I am now seeing a different dentist. Y'know, the new school non-butcher-type. The new dentist was very careful in his criticism of the oldguys work, but you could tell how distressed he was looking at the jacked-up second set of x-rays that he took because the first set was just too funky to be believed.

Ummmm, yeah, sorry but that crown really has to go. It's wayyyyy too big for the root of the tooth, and you have a large amount of decay going on under the crown. Maybe you could go back to the guy who put this in and I'm SURE he'd fix it for free.

Well CRAP!
There is a reason I am no longer seeing Dentistguy #1.... 'cause he is a brutal BUTCHER. Sure as shootin' the insurance won't pay for a re-do, so my darling Mr. Dguy... I love you, please pay up. Again.

now that i'm here

I feel like an utter dope.
I have been indulging in some really amazing bloggage for the past month or so, jamming on what people have to say and feeling this angst-like urge to "go and do likewise." The question is, do I have anything to say? If you read this, just cut me some slack 'cause I am sooo an amatuer.

Once upon a time I had a thick skin and a lousy mouth. Back in the day I had a few piercings, a funky hairdo and plenty of attitude. I still have the tattoos. I've got some scar tissue in my mouth and a few bone spurs from hairline fractures to remind me why it is important to marry wisely. There is an unknowable amount of damage to my ears , nose and throat due to sniffing crystal and her bastard half-sister crank. Prbably minimal damage due to the alcoholism... the main problem was really the meth. I am told that after 7-8 years the lungs of a smoker become clean as if the smoking had never happened. If this is true then WOOOHOO!

That was once upon a time and poor Mr. Dadguy still laughs and shakes his head in wonderment whenever I have occasion to mention just about any of this. Frankly I like the fact that he looks at me and cannot see it. K, well except the tattoos and those become strangely invisible after a while. I'm sure that sometimes I will refer back to past items along these lines.... I'm just sayin' I don't wanna shock ya.

This coming April 6 I will have been married to Mr. Dadguy for six years and I love him way more today than I ever have. It still blows me away that this amazing man wanted to marry me... that he did marry me and that we now get to live our ever after that really is HAPPILY!
We have a three and a half year old girlie that I will call "Birdie," a year and a half year old named "LaLa" and what the ultrasound guy assures me is a third girlie on the way. Due in three weeks as a matter of fact. Shoot me in the head if she actually drags it out that long.

here is another question... do I tell my family about this blog?

testpost

is there any buddy OUT there?