Saturday, December 13, 2008

A Name

Nope, not gonna post it.... but if you are on FaceBook you can find out... or you can email me and ask.  There doesn't seem to be a password protected function on Blogger, so for the purposes of this bloggity, he will be known henceforth as Henry.

Wow... this whole experience has kicked my trash from here to kingdom come, and while I feel  svelte and slender post-c-sec-baby, apparently I look as preggo as ever.  I kid you not.  Everybody says so, at least those that haven't had a heads-up that the baby is already sucking oxygen.

My MCL is stable and undamaged, but the rehab of my knee and whole freaking body is gonna have to wait, and will be a long, careful process.  So I will get to stay looking pregnant for the next couple of months.  Yay.

And what the shmellman kind of sadist doctor thinks that shaving a girls nether regions, slicing her open and then using TAPE to patch her up is a good idea?  Stubble and tape... down there?  This is the real reason ya need the good drugs post-op... not so much the pain, just the agony of the re-growth enhanced with tape.  Am deeply regretting my poor reactions to virtually all the "good drugs,"  Motrin is not cutting it.  

Tape.  Sheesh.

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

New baby

8 lbs, 10 oz, 21 inches.

Still no name. Some of the more popular name candidates are Dexter, Morgon, Marcus, Riker, Matthias, and Ezra.  (Wish us luck on that one!)  


Monday, December 01, 2008


Well... ain't life a hoot? We had ourselves a big fake-out in the wee hours of Sunday morning; starting at a little after midnight I was getting some good and hard contractions that kept getting closer and closer together... and laying on my side actually made them stronger. By two in the morning the contractions were every three to five minutes so we went to the hospital, but on the twenty minute drive there they started to peter out.

Went in anyway and stayed till about five am at which point my "labor" was over and I was peeved and a little chagrined. A little pissy as well. But I learned that I am very afraid for the safety of this baby. Something feels off, and he cannot turn properly and I am done messing with all of this.

Tomorrow I go in around noon for a c-section, and we will have a baby. The end.

In my book, I am trading an easier recovery and a higher hospital bill for a guarantee (or close to it) of safety for this little guy.... and frankly, I have a sneaking suspicion that this would all end up on a table with a knife anyway. My options are not stellar. least I get the more predictable outcome and the tubal ligation two-fer. I am trying to find the happy in all of this.

Now we just have to figure out a name for the squirt.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


So no baby yet... and as he is back in the transverse position, and the other doctor is the one who is doing appointments last week and this week, and he doesn't seem to give much of a flying one way or another...

all bets are off. They will not induce if the kid is transverse, so the second or third of December is out. Maybe a c-section? Donno, and the other doctor is one of those that knows better what you need than you do. Which yeah... he's a doctor etc... but when I talked to him about getting a tubal ligation he informed me that what I really needed was a certain kind of IUD.

The crap?

I think that if I wanted an IUD, I would ask for one. I am 39 years old, and so VERY done having kids, I think I am well within my rights to have my tubes tied. There is no reason whatsoever that I take a less permanent option. He wants me to do this IUD because it has some sort of progesterone blah-dee-blah and, here's where the guy pissed me off... "because of my weight putting me at very high risk of endometrial cancer...."

What? Scare tactics for the fat lady? I have been fat for how long, and this is the first I have heard from any doctor just how dire my situation is? Please... do NOT go there with this woman. He started in on progesterone, and I had to stop him to inform him that I well aware of my needs there, and I am already taking care of myself. I don't need an IUD to give me a constant dose. I don't want an IUD to give me a constant dose; I prefer control, and using the creams cyclically.

Frustrating. I really dislike doctors using scare tactics to get their product kickbacks or whatever is this guys incentive for pushing this brand of IUD off on a woman asking for a tubal ligation. It's not like IUDs are any kind of risk-free item, no matter how a proponent of them might like to gloss over it.

Dang. Still grumpy I guess.

Still not dilating.


Thursday, November 20, 2008


Sheeeesh. Here's another link to today's Junkfood Science, it's much shorter and much less unpleasant than that last one. I just cannot resist sharing this post, as it touches on my hometown AND one of my hot buttons; government telling us what we can and cannot do... because they know better. Dude... POSOLE! I could really USE SOME POSOLE right now!

Still knocked up and pissy, thankyouverymuch.

Dadguy's iPhone is working again after a few days spent in a ziplock bag filled with uncooked white rice. But the antibiotics are only half working, so this is either the UBERCOLD that ATE MANHATTAN, or it is Cold 2.3, and I am taking antibiotics for nothin'. But I don't dare stop, because "what if they just prescribed me a weeney little bit of antibiotics, they just need more time to work?"

Still knocked up and pissy, thankyouverymuch.

This kid is no longer Transverse. I am pretty darn sure of this as I now must go pee every five to ten minutes... if I don't I am sure to wet my pants during one of my uncontrollable hacking sessions, or when I suffer one of my explosive sneezes.

That fact combined with almost complete blockage of my, erm... other waste needs, and a few boots to the ribs? Pretty sure we are good to go. Did you catch that young man? GOOD TO GO! That's pregnantese for GET OUT!

Yup, he's about as obedient as the rest of Chaos.

Still knocked up and pissy, thankyouverymuch.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Things My Mother Tried To Teach Me

I was a truly obnoxious teenager. Sad really, to think back on it. I went from a fairly sweet little kid, to a precocious and self-righteous tweener... straight to smart-ass-know-it-all teen.

And then I encountered the paradigms of nihilism, and pessimism, and I thought that I had met with ultimate "cool." And really, when you think of all the things that "cool" wants to be and have? I may have been right.

My mother had a very low opinion of "cool." She always compared being "cool" with being cold and emotionally shut down. She said that when you are "cool" that it is a state of not caring about others. This is one thing that my Mom tried to teach me, and she did a pretty good job in that I was never able to throw myself wholeheartedly into the quest for coolness, much as I wished for that kind of numbed closed-off approach to life. I could never really encase myself, or protect myself from the crap-storm that came from my own actions; so I was able to learn from the consequences and I think I turned out better for it.

Another thing that my Mother tried to teach me, I don't know if she will even remember. It was one of those moments that happen between parent and child that shape that child forever... but you don't know that it's coming as a parent, and sometimes you never know that it happened until decades later when that kid tells you. Sometimes you never know what has happened. Mom, I'm telling you now.

First it should be said for the record on this blog, that my parents are both really, really smart. The have their quirks; for instance my dad has fabulously atrocious spelling and yet eschews spell check functions. But they are some sharp folks, and I have always known this, even in the depths of my teen disdain for their screwy-churchy-Mormon-crap... so it was an interesting conversation when I started to trot out my Public School Indoctrinated Ideas of "Overpopulation," "Zero Population Growth" and "How Humanity is a Blight on this Earth." Because- see, I was a "Gifted" kid, and we all knew about the "Science" behind the unsustainability of the human race, all the depleting resources, how there is not enough food and it's all going to hell in a handbasket unless we STOP HAVING BABIES!

I cannot tell you today what my mom said, word for word... not like another instance of Things That My Mother Tried To Teach Me that my mom denies that she taught me. A really nifty bit about the true value of black pepper when cooking an egg, that you will always know if you have salted your egg if you see pepper on it. Salt and pepper see, you put it on in that order... salt then pepper, and you will always know.


I was expecting some drippy churchy rebuttal to my fear-mongering and got science. She trotted out instance after instance of scientific advances that have the power to feed everyone if we choose to do so. She insisted that this earth was designed to hold over twice what it currently does in terms of humanity, and do it cleaner and safer and more environmentally soundly that we currently do it, and this was back in the mid eighties; over two decades ago! Basically she was teaching the idea of "Abundance vs Scarcity" a topic I scatterbrainedly addressed here, and it left an impression on my brain. I am not saying that I changed my ideas right then and there... but her ideas forced me to stay "open" in much the same way that her ideas about "cool" forced me to stay "open." I have never been able to fully subscribe to nihilism and pessimism and the pervasive culture of fear that seems so rampant in intellectual circles.

Fear. It is very important, and performs a valuable life saving function of getting us out of sketchy situations and keeping us out of them as well. But it is a thing of momentary value, or rather, it has value in the moment of danger. Humans are not meant to live in fear, and when we do live in it, we turn into rats in a cage. Living in fear, basing our decisions on fear, reacting as opposed to acting... it does something to us individually, and it does something to us as whole societies. It causes us to start basing our actions on fear as opposed to reality. Fear makes it's own reality.

I have the blog Junkfood Science on my Bloglines, I have begun to read it because it is fascinating and sometimes is the only source for the layman to get at studies and findings that the media ignores because it doesn't feed the fears of society, or sell papers. Today's post... well.

There are several of y'all reading my blog who are currently pregnant or have recently given birth. You may not want to read the first section the post that I am about to link to, skim it perhaps to get the gist. Suffice it to say, it gives statistical and anecdotal evidence of forced abortions and sterilizations happening in China in order to force it's population into compliance with it's One-Child Policy. China... with the assistance of UNFPA (United Nation Population Fund), a fund that was receiving about $34 million a year from the US under the Clinton administration. That funding was stopped during the Bush administration upon the recommendations of Secretary of State Colin Powell after... well, go read it.

But be prepared to skim over portions of the first section of the post if you suffer from MFOD (Mom's Freak Out Disease)... keeping in mind that the blog author herself even skips the more horrific and graphic details of what is going on in China. This is happening with the assistance and money of the UN. Supposedly the better part of the civilized world, putting it's very likely groundless fears ahead of human life itself.

I submit that this is the natural outcome of living in fear. People... let's think and act rationally please, and have a care about allowing our fears to make our decisions (reaction) instead of our brains (action).

I want to also add... this goes right along with what I have been trying to say in terms of coercion and governments "forcing" it's populations to do what is right. Because sometimes? What one person thinks is the "right" thing to do? Sometimes it just isn't, but if governments already have in place the machinery of coercion... what the heck to you propose to do to change it? Keeping in mind that many many people believe that China's One Child Policy is the "right" thing to do, no matter the cost. You think this could never happen in America? Ever? Really?

And the hell of it all is this is happening based on non-science. Nonsense. Just generally accepted feartheories.

Dude... my mom was right all along.

Friday, November 14, 2008


I have always been the proud knower of precisely how I carry my kids; heads down, breech, face front, face back etc...

Not this one, and as it turns out, it's probably because the kid is in there in a pretty screwy position for a term baby. He's transverse. Head on my left side, bum on my right with his arms and his legs poking up. Really baffles me as to what the heck is weighing down the bottom of my uterus and making me waddle so. Water?

Oh, AND I am at a big fat ZERO. As in zero centimeters. As in, "crap." As in, we are gonna be in this to the bitter, bitter end. Which, when you consider how freaked out I am at the prospect of the whole labor and delivery gig, may be a good thing. Wait this out till I am so VERY miserable that I won't care what it takes to get this kid OUT of me. You would think that a three time veteran of child birth would be less of a weenie about the prospect of pushing a fourth kid out. You would be wrong.

Call me Oscar Meyer cuz I am freakin' hard!

Thursday, November 13, 2008


Eeek! MAh poor Bloglines is freakin' OUT!

OK... so I have this cold. Still. And from what others around the area have been saying... it's a beast of a cold that takes around three weeks to clear. I would feel even more sorry for myself than I do, but Pearl and Dadguy are suffering right alongside me. Birdie and LaLa seem to have gotten off with the little sister of the beast cold; lingering but not intrusive. I am a little sad that since the cold takes the normals a full three weeks, it's a pretty safe bet that I will still be hacking and snotting away on the delivery table. Bummer.


At least I can bend my knee now. Well, I can bend it MORE anyway.


Last August Dadguy turned thirty two and one of the gifts that he got was a funny little stuffed animal from our niece. It was a Lemur with a very long black and white ringed tail, and he managed to unwrap it and admire it for all of three second before Pearl snatched it and claimed it for her own. The beast is now indispensable in her sleep routine, she has named it Elmer. Whether or not that was an actual NAME name or just her initial mispronunciation of LEMUR I couldn't say... but it is now his name. Elmer the Lemur.


It looks and feels like this baby is gonna just drop out if I jump up and down a bit. He doesn't though, even when I jump up and down a LOT. Bummer. Tomorrow I go in for my now-weekly OB appointment. I'll get checked to see if I am dilated. I will keep y'all in the loop, unless I am at a zero, then I will probably just stay home crying.


World of Warcraft released a new expansion pack last night at midnight. Dadguy, who has been on the wagon for over a year now. In the face of the coming baby and the resulting hardships that will pretty effectively put the kibosh on further iPhone App development, he has allowed himself to be talked into taking up the WoW again. He was up until 5:30 am last night after picking up his copy of the expansion. It was an inauspicious start but for the highly redeeming fact that he turned over the laundry and washed the dishes before he turned in. For those of you in the know... I offer the following bit of humor.
DISCLAIMER!!!! Has quasi-bleeped out language, un-beeped out language and crude humor. But if you are a WoW widow it will SLAY YOU!!! HAHAHAHAhahahahahahhahahahahahaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!


Sorrow. Pearl just dunked Dadguy's iPhone in the terlit. GAAAAAHGHK!


Wednesday, November 05, 2008


To be clear... Barack Obama was never "my guy" and there are a slew of things that he represents politically that I disagree with. But then, McCain was not "my guy" either... given my recent political posts, I am sure that it cames as no surprise to anyone that I voted Constitutional Party for the most part (one noteable Libertarian).

But the election is over, the People and the Electoral College have spoken, the system works. I also have to admit, that while President Elect Obama was not "my guy" when it came to campaigning and voting... he is absolutely "my guy" now. He is the "guy" for whom I will be praying to be the recipient of divine inspiration to lead this country, he is the "guy" who has my support as our elected leader, upon him goes my hopes and prayers for wisdom to guide us and his personal health and safety.

I have the utmost respect for the position that he holds today, and even more for that which he will soon be sworn into. I also respect the man who has inspired such hope and passion in my fellow Americans; I am proud to be an American.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008


My inner Polyanna is on hiatus after a brief day in the sun. I fully expect to see her again just as soon as I can kick the misery of this cold that has beaten me into the dirt. Although it must be said... today is more bearable than yesterday was.

The knee... well it was a little less conclusive of a visit than I had hoped. Again... the doctor could not do a full examination because the knee is still too tender. Which I guess begs the question: what do we do if it is still too tender for a comprehensive examination in a MONTH when I am scheduled to come back? Bleah. I am just gonna go with the "it's gonna do fine all by itself" theory, and do the rest and ice thing, call it good.

Huh. Guess Polyanna didn't go as far away as I had thought.

And poor, poor Dadguy just returned from work reeling under a head stuffed with snot. Welcome to hell for the next twenty hours, poor guy.

Sunday, November 02, 2008


So... huh. How odd life is. Tomorrow morning will be two weeks from when I took a header down the stairs and wrenched my knee. Until five days ago, based on the state of that knee, I was pretty sure that surgery was in my immediate future. Today I am still planning on keeping my appointment with the doctor tomorrow morning, mostly to get his recommendations for rehabbing my knee: exercises and the like. I am feeling that optimistic. Every day sees a little more improvement.

And somehow, even though I am still fabulously distended with pregnancy, and in this last month completely at the mercy of my unmedicated arthritis, hurting from the spread of relaxin
and "advance maternal age" waking up aching and barely able to walk for the first few minutes... I am gleeful and grateful and full of hope. My situation seems flipped on it's end, and the little bit of mobility I have regained seems to over-shadow all the fear and pain of the past two weeks.

I am also grateful for:

-The modestly sized bathrooms in my lovely house. Due to the cheek by jowl spacing of the tub to the toilet to the sink, I was able to lever myself up and down from the toilet using upper body strength.

-I spent only two days feeling sore in my upper body, pretty sure because I still had some muscle left from working out so hard before getting knocked up.

-A doctors office that has annoying rules like "we only do inductions at that Hospital on Wednesdays." As personally frustrating to me as this may be, I am glad that these doctors are going about their business in wisdom and in order. They are making sure that they are rested and fresh to the best of their abilities and planning. While at first I didn't appreciate having another doctor "foisted" on me, in reality it's a good thing to have two doctors that I have met with and are familiar with my treatment be available for the L and D portion. I am more likely to get a doctor who even knows my first name to be there to catch the baby this way.

-Gastric distress. Seriously, the very fact that I have backed up guts and acid indigestion and general discomfort reminds me that hey, I have plentiful and nutritious food to eat. And when I cannot stand the thought of eating something healthy and good? I can eat a slice of white bread to kill the hunger and even out the crappy food with a pre-natal vitamin.

-I am an older mom. Yeah, sure it's probably harder for me than the twenty-somethings being pregnant, but the fact is... I AM pregnant. By planning and by choice and by huge amounts of luck and blessings, I get to have this and I want to treasure this. This is not a right. Plus I need to remember that I get this as a SAHM, married to My Prince Charming. Plus as an older mom, I get to have this at a time where I am more comfortable with the devastation that these pregnancies wreak on my body. I am more comfortable with my body. I am more comfortable with me, and frankly, a lot less high-strung than I was one and two decades ago. At least in my case, I am better aware of what I am capable of (which is way more than I used to think) , and I know better when to call in the cavalry (again... I need it more than I used to think).

Seriously, I am starting to think that most any complaint I have, if looked at in a "tweaked" version, I will see a blessing and a gift and something to be grateful for.

Filthy house? Material blessings and energetic kids to track in the dirt, drag the toys around, and wipe their snotty fingers on the walls.

Piles of laundry? Clothes to wear and a washer and dryer downstairs. Y'all, I even occasionally get to splurge on namebrand detergent cuz I love me the smell of original Tide!

Can't think what to make for dinner? Um... hello, too MUCH choice there? Am I pissy about getting to be home with the kids? Again, a choice that we have sacrificed for me to do.

This is just scratching the surface of gratitude, and the difference in my attitude just today has been obvious. Even with a sick kid, a headache and a house turned on it's end I have been happier today. So tell me... what are your "tweaks"? What sucktastic situation is really a blessing for you? What are you grateful for?

Friday, October 31, 2008

Happy Halloween

Have you had a good scare? I certainly have today. Remember the freaky population boom on my street? And then the SURPRISE! TWINS! From around the corner? Well, next door neighbor with the twins had her babies last week, across the street will have hers whenever (technically due on Christmas Eve), and remember my other next door neighbor on the other side, due in March?

Yeah. Twins. Boy and a girl. Just found out today.

I'll be honest. This feels a little apocalyptic.

If my friend from two houses down ends up with twins (she's also due in March), I'm gonna maybe fork out the $85 bucks to get an ultrasound down at the mall, just for a little
peace of mind.

I am pregnant, Do not even hint that I am overreacting! Not if you want to live

Have some purdy pitchers.

Birdie in all her Cleopatra glory.

Because I thought the red eyes with the red lips were cool.

A very serious Cheetah Girl.

A punk rocker who flatly refused to wear any costume until given the ultimatum in the church parking lot at the Trunk or Treat: "Costume or no candy." I think she balks at the terminology "be." As in "what are you going to be for Halloween?" Or, "why don't you be a witch?" She doesn't even want to be a big girl, or be my baby or anything other than Pearl. She only wants to be Pearl. Is all supposition on my part.

Boy from two houses down... very proud of mah handiwork here.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Short, With Bullets

*So yesterday was the first day since my trip down the stairs that I had any hope that perhaps I haven't done something permanent to my knee. Oh, and for all of you purists, if I did do something? The damage was probably to my MCL, that's the ligament on the inside of my knee. I will be surprised if I end up having to have surgery. Hopefully I can get myself rehabbed by the time I would be wanting to start running anyway! Is all speculation on my part... but I am feeling far more hopeful about it all. I will know more on Monday.

*Only now I realize that it's time to pack my bag for the hospital, for just-in-casies. And find a bed for the guest room. And hang a vanity light and mirror in the basement, and scrub the bathrooms (hasn't been done since the week before I fell.... EW!), and plan what the heck to do with the kids if I go early, and and and and and and..............!

*Pearl's birthday is the 9th, and there is the small matter of a cake; a point of pride for me that I be the one to make it. It may be a little less spectacular this year.

*As far as the induction goes? Yeah, I talked to the original doctor... it will be on Dec 3rd, or the 2nd if I am lucky and they can fit me in on their "surgery" day. I am annoyed but resigned, and at least gratified that the original doc had the grace to call me back himself and apologise.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Wanna Know A Secret?

.... Self pity is boooring, and I have been boring the socks off of m'self lately. Pain kinda does that to me.

It doesn't help that I spend all day every day with three small beings who not only don't understand why mama is being such a loser who won't do jack for them anymore (i.e. hop up and grab them a drink of milk whenever they want one, the second they want one) but she squawks and bawls every time they use her conveniently propped up leg to do chin-ups and cherry drops off of.

It's really tough to remember what the heck that big, funny contraption on her leg was for in the first place apparently. Was it a target? Climbing straps? Fashion? Heck if I can recall, where's my lunch, woman?

Seriously... I am not used to having to take care of myself at the same time as everyone else. All of my needs are either things that I have figured out how to fit in, or just defer. But the whole Rest-Ice-Compression-Elevation shtick that goes with a soft tissue knee injury don't fit or defer worth a shmelman. And there was another frakking-crap-melvin emergency at Dadguy's work yet again this weekend; he was stuck at work until after midnight on Friday, and yet again my Saturday disappeared into the dust. We don't really get a Sunday, so this next week blends into last week in an ugly sort of way. A depressing sort of a way, since in addition to it all I apparently get to be the freaky wife who is all "WHAT!? What do you MEAN you have to work for your freaking PAYCHECK while I need you AT HOME!?? Taking care of ME!!??"

Sigh... I know that cannot be fun, and yet there I was Saturday night when Dadguy finally rolled in around 9 pm to witness the "Oh my hell you're finally HOME!" weepy break down of the mama. The breakdown that I don't even know is coming until about a half hour before it starts. The half hour it takes for him to drive home after calling me to tell me he's on his way. The breakdown I usually reserve for when he returns from out of town trips.

None of this was helped by what happened Friday night after I had called Dadguy around 11:00 to tell him that I was calling it quits, and I would be passed out when he got home. He informed me that he would be at least another hour or so, and I started my bedtime routine of double checking all locks, drink of water, prenatal vitamin ad infinitum. It takes me at least a half hour to actually be in bed with the lights out from the time that I announce my intentions get there. So when I was sitting in bed putting my brace back on over my pj's and heard the door knob rattle I was pleasantly surprised that Dadguy had apparently decided to pack it in and come straight home after all, and kept half an ear out for the sound of the key in the lock as I finished with all of the straps and velcro. A sound that never came. So I headed for the front door to see what was keeping him. Did he drop his keys in the dark? Is he out having a midnight chat with our next door neighbors?

But there was no one on the front porch and no car in the drive. Huh. "That must not have been what I heard" I tell myself as I make another round of the entire house double checking all the window locks both upstairs and down. "Naw" I tell myself, "I heard something other than the doorknob." But I wasn't able to go to sleep after all, so I had the dubious pleasure of hearing, an hour and a half later, the sound of the doorknob being tested again, and it was the exact same sound I had heard earlier, only this time it was followed by the sound of a key in the lock and a Dadguy through the door. Creeped out? I know I am.

Hey, have I been promising y'all a belly pic? Check this out... I saw it and laughed my head off at it, no wonder I am already getting double takes and winces. No wonder I barely fit.... anywhere!

Y'all... I have five and a half weeks to go.

Monday, October 20, 2008


Let's just temporarily rename this the All-Misery-Alla-Time Blog, because that would be fun, don't you think?

So I have PUPPS, at least that's what the doc tells me. I
hope I have PUPPS, because if I do, that means that the misery will go away soon after I have the baby. But... if I have PUPPS, then it also means that I was pregnant the month before I got pregnant with this baby, and I miscarried.

Which wouldn't surprise me, because I was secretly positive that had happened anyway. Only now I have proof, because I have been living in misery with the itching since the start of February. I have been wearing black clothes to disguise the flecks of blood that you can see all over my sheets and pillowcases, because I scratch till I bleed.

Huh.. that also means that I have been pregnant for-freaking-ever... only with a short, two week break, one full week of which was taken up by me bleeding profusely. Y'all, I am sooooo ready to be done

And the preceding paragraph was a text book definition of TMI (too much information).

And then this morning I fell down the stairs, but RELAX no permanent damage was done! Don't ask me how though, cuz my right leg was bent at the knee at a
most unnatural angle. As I lay at the bottom of the stairs howling (freaking out my poor girls and giving Dadguy a distressing good morning wake-up call), I actually was getting all torqued about first having to be pregnant while wearing a cast, and second I was furious because just on Saturday my FIL had found a screaming deal on a second hand treadmill, purchased it, and brought it to our house. That treadmill is my guarantee of freedom this winter after the baby comes, unless of course I break my piffling leg. My suspicion is that it was the relaxin, the hormone that causes a pregnant woman's joints and tissues to loosen and stretch, that saved me from a maiming. But the fact is, while it hurts like a beast, I can bend, straighten and even walk (limp pathetically) on it. Hooray for Tylenol.

AHAHAHAHAHAAAAA! Who knew that you were so much better off with my political posts!

* edit: turns out I am not so very sure that everything is OK with the knee... I'm gonna go see a doctor tonite. Surely he will smile tolerantly at me and tell me to keep up the ice packs and Tylenol,
and go home already ya freak! Surely. Only I will already be humiliated because I will have had to expose my knee, which will expose my scabbed up shins (the PUPPS), and the fact that my legs are also amazingly hairy. Because I cannot shave without also shaving off all of my scabs. No...see, the removal of scabs, I save for my midnight scratching sessions because it hurts so good!

So anyway. If you are female and would like to read about someone else's pain, only... in a much less painful sort of a way, and more romantic sort of a way... go here. Just make sure you read it from the beginning. You will just DIE!

*edited again:  So I will be pregnant and in a huge brace for at least two weeks, at which time the doc will tell me if I have done something permanent... he said what it was that he's afraid I have done, some sort of injury common to football players.  He said three words, and I think one of them was "radial", but I cannot remember; have been pregnant in the interim.  But he cannot be sure until he can examine my knee when there is less swelling, and less pain.  We do not want me to have done anything permanent, apparently it involves surgery to fix.  Surgery equals not good.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

These Faces!

I ordered some face paints from, they are even better than I had hoped. Plus painting these faces is something that brings great joy to the squirrels, yet I can do it whilst sitting on my bummie. I guess I owe ya some belleh pictures to illustrate why the "sitting" part is so important to me. I'll get around to it later... like everything else.

Y'all, I had to listen to a 27 year old gal whine about how much harder it is to be pregnant at the advanced age of "almost 30!" than it was at age 18.

Uh huh. Sux 2 B u chicky. Can you hear the sympathy just dripping off my every word?

Lets give you an idea of how I feel... yesterday I had the stomach flu, and I first realized what was going on about a half hour before I started hurling. Fatigue to the point that I cannot stand up to clear off the kitchen table, but must lean on the tabletop with one elbow as I stack everything into a pile? Body aches? Mid section in constant pain, accompanied by excruciating heartburn? Headache and dizzyness? Nausea? La! Am pregnant, what do ya mean stomach flu?

Luckily it was short lived, pretty much what LaLa had Sunday night. So approximately a 12 hour thing with minimum yakkage. Still, it was an eye opener for me that maybe it is not my imagination that pregnancy at 39 bites the big one. It helped that the Bishop's wife came to visit me this morning. She and I share the same first name and a similar bigger-than-life sort of personality, and we pal around a bit. She had made some homemade chocolates and came to share the bounty... she sat for a few and I pumped her for info. She had her last kid at the age of 39, and she let me know that absolutely, it is every bit as hard as I think it is. Probably there is nothing wrong with me, this is just what it feels like to gestate at this age.

We didn't discuss the L and D much. I already know that both she and her son died and were revived on the delivery table, but we are just gonna chalk that business up to Gestational Diabetes and ignore it from there.

Did these faces today. I think I'm already getting better.

Another LaLa Quote: "Mama? I fink that ev-wee-one doethen't like yuh name, tho we all call you "Mama.""

Sunday, October 12, 2008

More Thinking

I really love Elizasmom. I have loved her mind and her writing from the beginning, and I love her willingness to listen and discuss. She has been supremely patient with me when we disagree, and I must admit, that for two people who share so much in common as we do, we disagree a bunch. And on some very basic issues. Trust her to pull out some salient points from my political post that really need some clarification!

As far as that political post, and I must agree with Dadguy's take on it,  it was all over the board and just skimmed in nearly every area; from the theological to the political to the economic portions, I zipped about like a dragonfly on crack.  So it's not surprising that Elizasmom response to that last post was so long; there was likely enough in her one comment to to provide enough for ME respond to, in three or four separate posts.

But there was a reason that my last post zipped about, the bugs on crack bit... but it's less about the speed and more about the coherency of my brain currently. And I have moved on to about seven other topics since I wrote that post BUT, one point that she brought out I really want to explore further.

"I am trying to phrase this delicately but I can't so here's the thing: to extrapolate from your allegory, do you really think it puts people on the side of Lucifer to say, you MUST respect these rules or face the consequences? I know that's overstating the case, and I am not even necessarily disagreeing with you, just playing (heh) devil's advocate. The whole not-regulating-honor-killings thing, that's not really working out for women in the third world very well. "

Au contrair mine souer!  I don't mean to give anyone the impression that the followers of God are in any way exempt from consequences, rules, laws and the like.  On the flip side, those who understand the workings of Eternity, understand that we are all circumscribed by law.  Even our Father and Mother who want nothing more that to have their children return to them are bound by the immutable Laws of Heaven.  

This entire section of EM's comment tells me that I need to explain in greater detail.  First: really, when I gave you permission to take my brief and edited version of what happened in the pre-mortal experience as an allegory, I may have done y'all a disservice.  It was no allegory.  It was a snippet of what happened.  I am not even going to soften what I now say by any language like "what I believe" or "I think."  Dude.  This happened, I know it to my very core.

First you ought to understand the importance of what Lucifer offered to us.  He offered us salvation guaran-freakin'-teed.  He offered us the chance to go down to this beautiful planet, get the mortal experience we needed, and return to our Parents as exalted beings, and all we had to do was agree that Lucifer was the bomb-diggity and give him the glory.  

Cuz here's the thing.... if and when, and under the Fathers plan it is not a matter of "if" at all, so when we sinned, we would become unclean.  Unclean things cannot dwell with the Father.  We would be unable to return, and we would be damned for all eternity.  How horrifying is that?  Also, Fathers plan hinged on there being One, a perfect being who would go down, live a perfect life and then lay that sinless life and soul down, He would have to conquer death and sin and be a propitiation for the sin of all.  Through means mystical and physical, this sacrifice would be enough for those that would repent and follow Him, that we could return to the Father.  And that One?  He didn't need to do it.  If He was awesome enough to accomplish the task, he was awesome enough to not need to bother.  Oh, and this Being?  He had to do it voluntarily... more of that "not  compulsory" bit that Truth is so in love with.

I don't know how or what Satan would do to force us to behave, maybe he knew a code of DNA that would take away our ability to sin.  Perhaps he knew of some way to program our minds a La Clockwork Orange so that we were unable to choose evil and wrong, like we would be too sick to do the deed, or even trying might just kill us.  But the guy was an amazing spirit, a chosen one, shockingly advanced from the spirits that you and I were.  He was the "Morning Star"  he was "The Light Bringer,"  and I for one believe that he could do what he said he could do.  I also believe that what he offered was wrong on a cosmic scale, it was blindness and pride and he was fooling himself if he thought for a second that we could return to Father and be of any use whatsoever.  We would have been duds.  Automatons.  Wretched neuters without light, without will, or at least without any idea of what to do with that will.

And as you are here on Earth?  You didn't buy his "plan" either.  Because after Lucifer pitched his idea, another One arose and addressed the gathered spirits.  He said that He would go and He would be that sacrifice that the Father's plan hinged upon.  He said it, and we believed it.  For He was as far advanced from the "Light Bringer" as the "light Bringer" was from us.  He was Jesus, He was the Firstborn and the greatest of all and oh.... we loved him, for oh...


And then He said "I will do it, and the Glory goes to the Father."

And then the War in Heaven began.  Some say it was a War of words and ideas, but in the end Lucifer was banished from Heaven along with a third of the Hosts of Heaven.  A full third of us opted to follow the adversary into darkness, never to receive a body.

Does that sound like any kind of "no consequences"?  Ooof.  There are consequences to everything, for every choice that we make.  Existence turns upon human will.  Our will, in the end, is the only thing that we can give to our Maker.  It is when we align our will with His Will, that we unlock Truth, and Joy, and yes... Power.

And yeah... when we try to coerce and force another to be good or to do what we want them to do?  You got it... we have aligned ourselves with evil.  This brings all kinds of interesting things to the table when it comes to parenting, and I think that here, when we become parents ourselves we come to understand more about will.  Because no matter what?  You can discipline, you can mete out consequences, you can teach and love a child and encourage them to do what is right, but in the end in order to truly subvert the will of even a young child... you have to break it.  Can you think of anything more evil that breaking a child in that way?  Breaking a human in this way?

We are meant to choose.  We are meant to learn and grow by making good and bad choices.  We become exalted when we choose to follow our Advocate, and become more like Him.  But we also pay the consequences when we knowingly choose wrong.

Now you may think that there is nothing but good to come from a government garnishing your paycheck and making you set aside some dough for your own retirement... I mean, it's for your own good!  But here my problem with that... what if I can do a heck of a lot better by using that money to set up my OWN retirement through the means and avenues of my own choosing?  We will never know, because the choice of what to do with my $$ has already been made for me, and I am forced into it, there is no opt-out clause.  And it more than gripes my soul that today?  I am paying into (albeit via Dadguy's paycheck) a system called Social Security that will never pay me back.  The funds for this program are not self-sustaining, and will not make it till my retirement, we have pretty much been guaranteed that it cannot.  

What about Welfare?  Great idea huh?  What if I came up with a way that was a more effective way to care for, feed, clothe and shelter those who cannot help themselves, and get those who can back up on their feet?  What if I can do that more humanely and effectively and for 1/2 the exorbitant cost of what the Federal government is currently doing?  We will never know... again, taken from the private sector, bureaucratized and rammed down our throats in the way that others, and many of them NOT ELECTED OFFICIALS deem fit for public consumption, whether the public likes or wants or needs it.

It really must be said,  if you want to see how to handle Welfare... go talk to the Mormons, who do it faster, more efficiently and virtually for nothing.  If I could take the amount of $$ that the Feds garnish from Dadguy's paycheck and send it to Welfare Square in SLC, that $$ would go five times further than the Feds can make it go, feeding and benefitting the needy not just in America, but all over the world.  Perhaps it would go even more than a measly five time farther, I would love to see a study done on that particular question.

But I don't get that choice now do I?  Instead I MUST pay into the beast that is US Govt. Welfare.  Ew.  Because the Feds know better, and it's for our own good.

But, even with Welfare in the US, do the citizens of this country call their job done?  Heck to the NO!  Most people want to do good, they want to share and they want to see others cared for.  Seriously, I do not believe for half a second that helping those that need help is a thing that most humans need to be compelled to do.

Socialized medicine?  Hoo brother, do I want to get into a society that has standardised everything when it comes to health?  How long do you think that alternative medicine will last under Socialized medicine?  Am I looking forward to the hell that is an HMO to the power of six?  Run by the same losers who botched Katrina?  As a healthy fat woman, do I want to be told that I must lose weight or be penalized because according to the BMI I am obese.  Healthy, but obese.  The same BMI chart that is admitted to be deeply flawed by many major health organizations?  Seriously, my girlfriend is pregnant and is trying to avail herself of WIC... the WIC nutritionalist is trying to talk her into gaining NOTHING during the last trimester of her pregnancy even though her doctor insists that for the health of the baby, she must.  Dude.  This girl carries a few pounds extra, sure,  but because she was an athlete as a highschooler and is in top shape (she worked out for at least an hour a day up until a few weeks ago) those couple of pounds (10... perhaps 12) plus her muscles push her BMI number to read high, high enough to be just barely over the line for "obese."  This chick is "obese" like an  Olympic grade shotputter.  And even if she WAS obese to the tune of say... like me or bigger, the last trimester is not the time to go on a diet.... what kind of irresponsible tripe is the government trying to push here?

But as it stands, my girlfriend can opt out of WIC and lean on her family, or even LDS Welfare.  But if this same agenda is being pushed by the Feds and medicine were Socialized, what if she had no choice but to diet or face penalties?  What if all doctors HAD to go by the BMI whether they believed it was best for their patients or not?  What if they had to kow tow to the Allmighty Fed or lose their license?  Socialized Medicine is not the answer y'all.

Options.  Cooperation.  Free Market solutions.  Healthy Competition.

Government absolutely has a place in a free society.  There are laws that need to be enforced, such as "my freedom to swing my fists about, ends just short of your face."  Like Currency, like dispute settlement and monopoly breaking, like roads.  But most things and industries can be self regulating in a free market.  The market doesn't tolerate much BS, but then, the market is all about competition and a government in a free society is about cooperation.  Coercion has no more place in a free society or it's markets than it does in the Eternities, but we have become so bloody used to our choices being made for us in some of these areas, we hardly realize we are being coerced or that we are having our choices taken from us, for our own good.  Which is just fine so long as we happen to agree with what is "for our own good."  But what if we disagree?  We are hardly aware that so much of what is being done today, not only has no foundation in the Constitution of the U.S. of A., but in some cases goes directly against it.

Y'all I am seriously considering voting for Dell "Superdell" Schanze as Governor for UT... and that man is annoying!  

And fittingly enough with the motif of this past week of crap health for the Chaos Household, LaLa is up there barfing.  Gotta go!

Friday, October 10, 2008

The Body Politic: A Meme

I was tagged by Jen at Following the Road for a political post, and actually... she tagged me a while back, but I hadn't realized it because I hadn't read the post that she tagged me in. It was a political post and politics freak me out right now... yeah, I know, get over it and VOTE woman! I suspect that I am feeling freaky because some ideas that I have long held dear to my heart are sloughing away as a result of some serious reevaluation and an ad hoc education in economics. Economics as it applies to freedom and politics in general.

First you have to understand that I believe in this country. I believe in the Constitution of The United States of America, and I also believe that the founding fathers who pushed for, wrote, signed, and upheld that constitution, while imperfect humans, had actually been the recipients of revelation. And I do not use the word "revelation" lightly OR in jest. I mean revelation from the God that resides in Heaven, and the more that I learn about the Constitution, Freedom and Capitalism squares with what I know to be true.

I want you to stop right here and cut out that knee jerk reaction that you are having. Don't pretend that you are not now thinking to yourself "Oh freakin' LOVELY, another Conservative Christian Nutbag!" Hear me out in full please, I am being as clear as my faculties will allow.

I have as much right to base my political convictions in my moral and spiritual foundations as any atheist or secular humanist has to base theirs in theirs. I know this because this still is a free country, plus I used to espouse some pretty spectacular secular humanist beliefs, I used to be a Baha'i patchwork style agnostic-ish sort of a girl. Back then I could STILL see the "rightness" of the Constitution, and Liberty and Freedom... and as that was primarily during my formative teen years back in the late 80's, the Reagan administration and then the extension of the Reagan administration in the form of Bush... I was terrified of Big-Business-Heartless-
Corporate-Greed. I saw Big Government as facilitating Big Business Evil, and therefore I assumed that I was a Democrat and a Liberal.

Heh... yyyeah. And then the Clinton Administration showed up... and it is here that I must admit that Hilary got my back up within the first two seconds of her husband's regime with her disparaging remarks about how she wasn't going to "stay at home baking cookies" and the following reluctant retraction. My mom was an educated, highly intelligent woman who chose to stay home and raise her six children, and anyone making derogatory judgements on that choice (and no matter the apologist retrofit, it was derogatory and meant in a dismissive way) was not going to win my admiration. Three months before Clintons second term, I joined the Green Party in NM. Not so much because I am a tree huggin' crunch bag... but as a way to send a message to Washington in regards to my dissatisfaction with the two party Status Quo.

and then...
and then...
and then...

No matter, all I am trying to communicate is that back in the day I could see the rightness of the Constitution and the ideas behind the start of this country. My problems were with the mess that was the government, no matter which party had control.

People it is NOT getting better. We swing back and forth between the Democrats taking power and extending Big Government and then Republicans stepping in to fix the mess, but for the most part... not dismantling a damn thing that the Dems have put in place. And then we as Americans believe the rhetoric of Centralisation, and Socialism and believe that we need more government to fix the mess that too much government has made. We get this sense of entitlement. Like that just because we are Americans and the folks down the street own a home... we deserve to own a home no matter the cost. Even if the cost is more loss of freedoms and $700 billion that will not even fix the problem.

We get this sense of Entitlement that leads us deeper into the morass of Socialism, because poor people deserve to not be poor, so we take from those that have. And then deeper and deeper.

So I am walking away from rhetoric and political hoopla, and most especially away from charismatic "leaders," sound bites and facetime. I walk away from Presidential Debates that feature smirking, eye rolling, finger pointing bookends of horse puckky. Y'all I am looking for Truth with that capital "T." I am going way back. Back before this mortality began.

And here's the thing... even if you don't believe in the literality of what I am about to tell you... I think you can get behind the idea that one of the things that defines a human being is the ability to choose. Choice. Free Will. Think of this, if you like... as an allegory.

There was a time when we were all beings of Spirit, and we lived in a place that I will call the Pre-Mortal Existence. God had organised us and created a world and had a plan for us to go down and be tested on that world. Tested to see what we would do, choose right or wrong. Part of that test was to receive a body, and our Heavenly Parents knew that we would inevitably choose wrong as part of that learning process. But there was another, a Being of Light who's name was Lucifer, and he had a different plan. HIS plan was to go down and by some means or another, he had a way to force every spirit to choose the right, some way to coerce this perfection out of each and every soul that gained a body, and we would all return to live with our Heavenly Parents, having done all that we were sent down to do. And we would give all the Glory to Lucifer.

Gods plan was to give us choice... and all the consequences that go with choice. In the end, we went with plan A... or the Plan of Salvation. The one that offers progression for the human race, as opposed to coercion or the removal of choice for our own good. Not even for our own good. Because in the end, there is no such thing as coercion for our own good.

The more that I learn about free capitalism, the more that I see a mirror of Plan A. Choice, accountability, natural consequences... progression. But true capitalism needs less government in order to work, not more. Under the tenants of Capitalism, we would never be in the "crisis" we are currently in. The "Economic Crisis" we face was caused by forced artificial loans, poor government oversite of it's own programs and interventions and NOW? Now the government has voted AGAINST IT'S OWN CONSTITUENCIES WISHES to award itself the position of arbiter and fixer of the huge mess that it has made, to the tune of $700 I-can't-wrap-my-head-around-the sum dollars.

And this is somehow a good idea?

And now we are faced with a Liberal Republican and his ideas of how to maintain a top-heavy and unconstitutional Federal government, and a Socialist Democrat who want to offer us change by extending governmental control and increasing Federal power and taking charge of giving us what we feel like we deserve.

And trust me... we will get just what we deserve. We will.

Ben Franklin was quoted as saying "Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both."

You had best believe that we will get what we deserve. Think about it... even if Obama is the saint that so many seem to be saying he is, he is stepping into an office that has term limits. Any extension of government that the man puts into place, if history can be counted on to repeat itself as it has done in the past few decades (and I think that it will).... a Republican Administration will take charge of those Agencies and Institutions in EIGHT SHORT YEARS. They will NOT dismantle the increase in centralized control. They will take it, grin, and proceed to do whatever the crap they think is right, and/or furthers their own agendas.

Do you hear me? To all Dems who villianize Republicans and the Republican Party... the Republicans will be in charge of what Obama builds, for better or for worse, and pretty much for certain if we continue on this reactionary path we have gone down as a country. Socialism is not the answer. Increased Centralization and Federalization is not the answer.

But there is an answer... and I am starting to think that the Constitutional Party has a good number of them. You want change? Let's take apart the Machine. Let's tell ourselves "NO" for a change. Let's work and do, and take personal responsibility for what happens. Let us choose, and make choices and be free.

So I am back to the idea that the current two-party system of government has failed us, and failed us big time. I want real change, for a change... and I am starting to mouth off about it, and I am only just getting started. I want less government, not more. I want a Constitutionally circumscribed government... and that means MORE than you may think it does. Or rather LESS.

I am never good at perpetuating meme's but I hope that all ya'll are thinking about this stuff anyway. If you post it, I will read it, just let me know by email or comment.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008


Holy smokes people... remember this post when I filled you in on the population explosion on my street? Well I didn't include my friend "L" who lives around the corner and down the street , even though she was due in mid October.

Cuz she doesn't live on my street.

So I was chatting with a mutual friend who asked me had I heard L's big news from last night? Knowing that the standard 20th week ultrasound had not given a gender (pesky umbilical cord positioning) for her baby, I assumed that she had had her baby, and her "big news" was boy or girl.

Yeah... her big news was boy AND girl. Is not apocryphal, urban legend stuff- is a fact, Jack. Personally, I was aghast. I mean, this woman only had the one ultrasound... but it was on state of the art equipment in the freakin' hospital that I plan on delivering in. Naw, I'll be honest, I am aghast because if it can happen once...

I cannot wait to hear the birth story.

Monday, October 06, 2008

Baby Drama

Ain't life interesting?

So after a few misses, I settled on an OB who has a practice in the town that I live. (He also has offices in two other towns). A five minute drive as opposed to the full 1/2 hour both ways commute to the doctors was a pretty big incentive, plus he has a good rep and takes notes on his laptop... whatever, I just want to get through this last baby and be done with the whole gestational, L& D, episiotomy blah blah blah. After four kids I am so done with being freaky or picky about too much. Just make sure I have a bed, an epidural and a few expensive machines that go "ping" and I am good.

Still... it seems a bit of a dirty trick to hook his practice up with some random other OB's practice from the town just north of here. And yet, in my 31st weeks visit... SURPRISE! NEW! DOCTOR!

Apparently I will be visiting with each of them every other visit, and this development would be no great shakes... I am easy. After all, I am the girl who let some random class of doctor student people come in and watch during the delivery of one of my kids. Cannot quite recall
which kid. Only that the nurse asked about one minute after my epidural kicked in, if the class could come and observe. Dude, I was high on the euphoria of "Holy crap... felling nothing feels GOOOOOD!" So I said yes, and they quietly ushered the class in while I was pushing... so actually, I never saw the students. It's almost as if they weren't there. Only I know they were.

ANYWAYS... the issue I have is that the visit before this visit on Friday with Dr. New, I had begun my campaign for early induction. Dr. Old had actually agreed on a date, assuming my cervix was cooperative. And as my cervix is usually VERY cooperative, I took it as a given that we were a go for Nov 30th. So I told my mom. Who decided to come out for Thanksgiving and then stay for the baby.


According to Dr. New, the New policy is to do inductions at the hospital that I plan on delivering at (insurance, good hospital, delivered the other three there...) on Wednesdays. Which puts me going in on December 3rd. A full week after my mom arrives to celebrate Thanksgiving.

And by the by Mom... this is not a bid to get you to not come for Thanksgiving OR extend your stay up here unreasonably long.
This is about me going from ranting and raving and stomping my feet about the INJUSTICE of it all... to realizing that it is what it is. Perhaps the kid will decide to show up on Thanksgiving Day, and really play hoopty with the whole arrangement. All facts that I know in my head, but it took a few days to get down to my grumpy, pregnant heart. Who knows. Maybe this is about giving my congregations women auxiliary a chance to do their thing. Who knows? Certainly not me, but I feel much better. I will be taken care of no matter what.

Mind you... I still intend to make Dr. Old tell me that he will not be doing the Nov 30th induction right to my face, because I roll like that. Not lettin' anyone off the hook with out the confession.

On a completely separate note, LaLa has really been enjoying her new found phone skills and is much faster than I am at running to answer a ring. Today she picked up a call that evidently had no one on the other end. She handed the receiver to me and said
"dayuhs no on on da phone. I guess dey must dist be pwactising."

Post On It's Way...

... I promise! I just cannot help but link to this article in the New York Times. The evidence is starting to mount up.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Dish Network

Fix the mans TV and give him a little sump-mm for his trouble already will ya? This is customer service, not rocket science.

*Edited to add: Ahhh! Now THAT'S better.

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Princess of the Nile

This year at Birdie's school is the first year for the 4H afterschool program, and when they sent home the literature I thought "nice, maybe next year." And threw everything away.

Then two days later I realized that I had made a terrible mistake. The much desired and much lauded "Princess Party" was not going to just go away. She actually expected to be able to go.

I tried talking her into the Art Class, or the Cooking Class or even the Outdoor Games, but it was Princess Party or DIE as far as the Bird was concerned. I was not convinced and was quite sure that the class would not live up to the perfect experience that Birdie had apparently built up in her head. I have talked with other moms who read what the Princess Party class was about, heard their daughter's pleas, and signed their kids up for something else anyway.

I seriously considered doing that too.

Instead, I opted for the Life Lesson, and got the girl exactly what she asked for, and actually she has enjoyed herself even though I can tell that it isn't what she thought it would be. The thing that has most amazed her has been the length of the gals nails who was able to tweeze up chips of dry ice safely with her nails, in order to put the bits into each girl's decorated "Genie Bottle" to make a smoky "Genie" effect when a little water was added. It appears the class is going for the Disney Pantheon of Princess, and that week was all about Jasmin. Next week they will cover Mulan. This week they had a "Princess Tea Party."

The note they sent home with Birdie last week indicated that the girls were welcome to dress up a little as Princesses for the Tea; gloves, dresses and hats got mentioned. We have an extensive Dress-Up collection, if figured we send her with something.

But then.

The girls had decided that they wanted to be Power Puff Girls for Halloween, and I had agreed to make the dresses for it. I figured sleeveless sheath with a black band around it... that's within my sewing range. Throw in a pair of white tights, their black mary-jane Sunday shoes, a hair-doo and we are good to go.

Then they discovered the Power Puff Girls Z.
Shoot me in the head.

They wanted to be THAT for Halloween and I had to nix their dreams. Holy COW! That is waaaaay beyond my abilities to make times three in one month. Plus the cost of fabric. Plus. Plus. Plus! Yipes. So they went sadly back to their original request for the plain old ordinary PPGs. Until this last weekend when they got an eyeful of the wonder that is Store Bought Costumery, and now they are thrilled beyond measure with the coming holiday. AND I am off the hook for about the same amount of money that I would have spent on fabric. WHEEEE!

Birdie found a pretty amazing Cleopatra get-up that ticked her fancy, and LaLa got a shiny, soft, cheeta print dress that along with some ears and a tail that we already have, will make her the cat's meow. Pearl got a wee witches hat and broom that with some other goodies that we have in the Halloween Box downstairs will do nicely for a cute witch. Seriously, a great hat and a stick to whack people with, doesn't get better than that for a kid like Pearl.

Then day before yesterday Birdie decided that she wanted to wear her Cleopatra outfit for the Tea Party. There is an undeniable logic to the request... Cleo had to have been a Princess as some point before being Queen, why not go as her to a Tea? Am I a dork to be so proud of my daughter? It's not like there would be any horror or shame for her to go as Aurora her favorite Disney Princess, so why am I so delighted that she opts for Cleopatra? Because, lest there be any question about it... I am delighted. Like it's an outward sign of what a cool kid she is, something that I can point to and write a post about because she so very ROCKS!

So I got her outfit hemmed and to her this afternoon right before her afterschool dealie, and I got to peek in at the rest of the group in their finery. I realize that I AM a dork, as Birdie is the ONLY girl in costume past the point of a tutu and a pair of gloves. I am a dork because I am still so freaking proud of my little girl, alone in her cosplay and completely unworried by it. Enjoying herself.

My kids... they don't stand a chance. If you know Dadguy at all, then you realize this is true times two. No chance, and I don't think I care.

Friday, September 26, 2008


Sometimes no news is good news, and sometimes it's not.

Sometimes no news means that I just don't feel like writing anything down.

I've been struggling a bit with this pregnancy (shocker... I KNOW!) I don't feel good in general, and I suspect that there is a little bit of depression going on. PRE-natal baby blues? Does that exist? A sort of "I feel crappy so I think I'll stop moving" sort of paralysis? Donno.

But I wish I could get me some of that "nesting" hoo-dah that everyone goes on about. I never get that and it bums me out.

Have I mentioned anything about the crazy population explosion on my street? 'Cause yeah... it's pretty crazy! There is me with my singleton boy-o, the neighbor on my right with her boy/girl twin set due in mid Nov, my best friend K next door to twin-lady with her SURPRISE! BABY! due in March, across the street with her identical twin girls due on Christmas Eve, and next door to me on the left with her singleton due in March. Blah-blah-something-in-the-water-blah, have I mentioned how glad I am that we are having just the
one addition to our family? As it is, we have moved our household from a one garbage can home, to a two garbage can home. We finally came to the conclusion that this was a necessity after realizing that we have over seven, large, full bags of grass clippings stashed in the backyard, and a closet full of construction garbage still hanging out in the basement that we have been unable to get rid of. This is to say nothing of the mound of crap in the garage and a TON of vegetation all over the backyard that is due to be yanked in a week. Dadguy and I are sheepishly thrilled with the recent doubling of our trash capabilities. Sheepishly because how much of a loser do you have to be to be THRILLED with an extra garbage can? It is an extra eight dollars and forty five cents a month worth of an ability to throw out anything! Garbage! Out of the HOUSE! Ahhh! That feels good.

Yes, I think I
did just write a post about my new garbage can. Do you see why I haven't written anything in a while?

Monday, September 08, 2008


Well, that's a little better.

I have this thing that happens to me, primarily during the second trimester of pregnancy. This thing where all of a sudden the levels of thyroid medication that I am taking are not enough. But it's more than just feeling more tired than usual. The closest thing that I can liken the experience to, is feeling like I have poison coursing through my veins. And for some reason, it always takes me by surprise when it happens, and then I figure it out, get hold of the doctor, get the lab work done and get a new prescription. These steps take time, and I spend a minimum of two weeks in toxic hell with each shift, and I get anywhere from three to four of these shifts per pregnancy.

These shifts herald an inability to do much of anything, and yet, I don't dare just go on a slightly high level of meds. My body reacts to too much synthetic thyroid with hives. I am today just normalizing from the last shift. I feel a little less like I am dying.


Again, this is my last baby. Three months to go. I can totally DO this.

As a matter of fact, even though this shift came with a heavy Emotional Breakdown Factor... I have also been enjoying feelings of contentment and joy. Which is odd, because usually when I am down physically and emotionally, I can't see my way clear and just get depressed. I suspect that this over all sense of well being comes from a cross between the topic of my last post, and a sense of how HUGE of a blessing it is to have my children. Not every woman gets to have completion the way that I am getting it. We are all here. I wanted biological children, and I got them. I got as many as I wanted. I get my girls and a boy. Dadguy works his patoot off so that I can stay home with them. I chose this. He chose this. We have an amazing marriage. A little bit of sick that has a time limit on it? The resulting domestic chaos? Yeah... I can totally DO this.

Two nights ago as I got LaLa into her bed with her sippy cup, blanket, air kisses and bed-buddy just so, my heart swelled with love for her, and gratitude that I am alive and her mama. No one could ever love her, or understand her as I do... and I get to do this.

I am the mama.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Big Happenin's


so I have really been holding out on all y'all. Some pretty momentous stuff has been going on in my life, and I haven't been sharing it. Good momentous. Biiiiiig stuff, heh!

But it's not events, it's a shift in understanding. My world has been rocked- Hard. And yet this is all stuff that I have known for years, but somehow unable to apply to myself.

Kay, well there was actually a lot that I didn't know... but seriously... do me a favor and read this. Umm.... except for the foul language, just skip over that part if you will please mom. Check out the links. Go on ahead, I can wait.

So the party line that you hear on the reality weight loss shows, and what I hear in the Weight Watchers rooms has been that " I want to be there to see my kids grow up." The obvious extension of which is, " my fat body is a death sentence, and I will be orphaning my children if I don't LOSE WEIGHT NOW!!!!."

As it is turning out... my fat body could HELP me survive better in a number of ways? And not just in In Case Of Death Camp sorts of ways?


So if it's NOT killing me to be fat, and if I am not necessarily dooming myself to health problems through my selfish and lazy refusal to diet and starve myself (not the exercise... apparently exercise and eating good food is very important for any size person, shocker... I know) then what?

Because I hate to repeat mahself, let me just copy/paste a little portion of an email I sent to my sister a few days ago...

"... I think that after this baby, that I want to start running again. Have been having running dreams, the way that the early twenties me, had motorcycle dreams. Running equals freedom and success to my unconscious the way that riding used to. I want to be strong, a runner and fat. I want to take karate and be a fat, kick-your-butt sort of woman. I have always said that I have enough personality to rock the very short hair and still be feminine. I think that I also have enough personality rock my fat butt and still be beautiful. Not pretty. Beautiful.

Thinking thinking thinking thinking....

Just knowing that it all comes down to eating right and being active and that it's OK to look like I look, because I WILL anyway (look like I look). No, not OK... it will be AWESOME to look like I look. Look at me *stands tall and arms spread wide* look at MEEEE!

I think this is part of happiness in the eternities. I always wondered what my resurrected body would look like. If it would be up to my OWN standards of perfect, or someone else's. I think that the God who loves Himself some variety, has a broader definition of perfection than Vogue magazine. Broader, taller, shorter, skinnier, stouter, chubbier. I am excited to be thinking like this. To be finally BELIEVING like this."

Seriously, I am just getting started. Some things are really starting to fall into place. All of a sudden I am giving myself permission to like me. As I am. With no caveat; no," and I am working on getting thinner" or "I have a long way to go" or "when I am thinner." The excuses and the shame are starting to drop off, and it turns out that they, not my flesh, are what has been weighing me down.

Friday, August 22, 2008


Do I have something to say today? Yes. Yes I do.

In grade school, I cannot seem to place the actual grade, but I suspect that it was third grade, there was a boy in my class named Jim Lumpee. No joke. To compound the problem he was "the fat kid," unkempt, poorly dressed and smart as a whip. Looking back I see that he was also a lonely kid, and I know for a fact that he was a picked-on kid. He was also a kid who didn't have a lot of defences at that time.

The reason that I think it was third grade, is I was baptized in June the summer before third grade; my eighth birthday. People in the LDS church cannot be baptized until the age of eight, which is the "age of accountability." The age that most human being understand the essentials of right and wrong. It is also the age that, after undertaking the covenants of baptism, a person receives the Gift of the Holy Ghost. I tell you this, because I don't want to come off like I am some sort of super-compassionate person. I think that I was just a kid with a normal sensitivity to the promptings of the Comforter. And everything about this memory feels like those sweet prompting that the Spirit brings.

I don't remember ever participating in the teasing that went on, and have even one or two memories of telling other kids to stop, or that what they had said wasn't nice. But I was a kid who went to church and paid attention, I read the Friend, I knew that what I should do was be a friend to this boy. I knew that was what Jesus would want.

But I also knew that I was a fat girl. Not as fat as Jim, but I was heavier than the pretty girls, and I felt that difference in my bones. I feared that to befriend this boy would be to mark myself as fair game for some of what Jim was getting. On top of that, he smelled bad. Not that he smelled of sewers and small rotting animals... but he smelled the sour smell of the unbathed and a little like old urine. He smelled like his clothes got washed once a month.

For those of you in my family, knowing just that he smelled bad might get me a pass on this childhood failure. I have an almost preternatural nose. There are family legends about my ability to walk into a room a half hour after a single watermelon Jolly Rancher candy has been eaten, sniff, and ask for some watermelon candy too! Chocolate? Oh brother, wait at least an hour before breathing on me! Honestly, I am grateful that over a decade of smoking has dulled my sniffer, because I still have a better nose than most.

It just breaks my heart that I had not more bravery, or compassion, or the skill that I have now as a pregnant mom who changes a toddlers stinker-pants, the skill of olfactory-blocked mouth breathing. But I knew the power, or at least sensed the power to heal that just one real friend brings. That a kid can withstand almost anything, and even have some room to grow and flourish with just one real friend. I knew it, and I knew that I could be that friend for him and I didn't do it. All the excuses in the world do not keep this childhood FAIL from burning.

Somehow I know that his parents were divorced or divorcing, and for some reason he was living in an apartment with his older brother, who was presumably older than eighteen. I remember that it was some adult, I guess my teacher, who told me this. And it feels like I could feel compassion rolling off from the adult when they told me. Perhaps that it's just something that I ascribed to the experience later, but I doubt it.

No matter how life and our actions are parsed and looked at, Jim Lumpee, wherever you are? I failed you and I am so, so very sorry. I hope you found a friend, I hope you are OK and happy today. Does it help to know that I learned from my failure? Does it help ease anything that I always acted on that urging to do right by another after that?

No? Didn't think so.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Sunday Pic: Whew.

What a week! I mean, if you can measure the difficulty of a girl's week, by the damage done to the carpet... you'd get a very good idea of the week that I've had.

Flooding and water damage? Real bad.
Smoke or fire damage? The worst.
Arterial Blood Splatter? Yikes.

But if you are talking about a generally lousy sort of week, I think that red sploshes of Tropical Punch Kool-aide down the hallway ought to register as a "well, CRAAAAP!" sort of lousy. Apparently I was not getting dressed and into the kitchen to fetch Pearl her sippy of "juice" fast enough. She felt she needed to speed things up by bringing me the pitcher. Two weeks ago, I might notta freaked so bad, but I had just spent $149.95 getting the upstairs carpet cleaned. The upside is, I'm thinking that some of the enzyme that the cleaning fella had used on the carpet was still in there, because the red drips were already looking a little faded by the time I got the spot remover out to spray on the mess. After a good scrub, you cannot even see the trail Pearl left.

You can still see the two palm sized brown stains on the floor near her bed from last Tuesday Night's Festivities of Barf. And this is not to be confused with Monday Night's, Wednesday's, Thursday's, or Friday's Festivities. Seriously. Fun parties all. Today is, I hope, the Finale of Festivities. Last night, Saturday night, was all about waking up multiple times, but not puking. That was new. I'm thinking new is good. Only this morning, Pearl seems to be going for the Toddler's Trifecta of Nasty... The three P's of Unfortunate Stench.

Having taken care of the first "P," a.k.a. puke, with great efficiency earlier on in the week ( and on and on and ON), she has decided that she is in charge of removing her diaper herself whenever things get uncomfortable, i.e. whenever she has a load. Unfortunately she still has a spectacular case of the runs. The second "P" is poo, and the basement carpet has now been christened.

And I suppose that I should be proud of the fact that notwithstanding all the vomiting and diarrhea that she has suffered for almost a full week, due to my superior hydrating techniques via the Pedialyte, she had it in her to take care of the third "P" while she was down there as well.


A curious side note to this particular party that our youngest has been having, she only ever vomited at night... and almost exclusively during the hours of midnight to five am. So every day we would think that she was on the mend... and every night, whups! No sleep for YOU!

One notable exception: after an exhausted (sleep-deprivation for a pregnant lady is extra un-fun) trip to the doctors office where the guy just told me "yeah... sucks to be you, watch for dehydration." It was beyond my ability to make lunch, so I took the girls to the Drive Thru at a C@rls Jr. to get some happy meals, I discovered that one of the last places you want a two year old to start barfing is while strapped into a car seat, jammed next to her sister, first thing after getting into the drive-thru lunch line after another car has just pulled in behind you. As bad as I feel for Pearl, I almost feel worse for Birdie who got it in her hair and all down her shirt.

You are not interested in what it takes to clean up and limp home after such and experience. Not if you are sane.

Please let this be the end.

As I have no pictures that anyone would want to see this week, I have included the birthday cakes of the Chaos Girls that got missed during my blogging break.

Pearl's second birthday

LaLa's fourth birthday

Birdie's sixth birthday