I went in for my regular check-up this morning with Dr. D. Everything is groovy so far. My blood pressure is good, no (extra) swelling, and even my jump in weight is nothing to worry about.
It came time to check the baby's heart rate and our little wiggler wouldn't sit still. Dr. D had a reading going, when *swoosh* the kidlette moved and she had to start over again. After Dr. D finally got her reading, 168 beats/min, she looked at me and said, "You're having a girl, right?" I just said, "I don't know..." She answered, "I think you're having a girl, this baby acts like one."
So, Dr. D has weighed in on the "Girl" side of the argument.
In other baby related news, John and I have settled on our prospective names. Girl and boy. It's been a challenge, but we're both happy with the results. You'll have to ask me in person if you want to know what they are...
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Random Thoughts on a Sunny Day
Today as I walked from class to the English Society Tea I passed the following happenings:
International Student Fair--Complete with food booths ranging from fresh crepes to shish-ke-bob and a stage where Muslim rappers were performing.
Student Protest--They staged a walkout and picket line to protest fee hikes across the Cal Sate system.
Science 2 BBQ--I'm not sure who the Science 2 students are...but the BBQ sure smelled good.
I also got flashed from across the street while waiting for my train home by a woman who just didn't understand how short her skirt was as she sat, knees open, at the bus stop. That was before she dropped her cell phone and did some weird contortionist moves to pick it up from behind her seat. That gave me a view I can only describe in terms of my birth class. She was ready for the side laying one leg up pushing position...but I'm not her OB/GYN.
In other news, the shirts were off everywhere as the pasty skinned begin to work on their summer tans! It's about 77 F outside and sunny as can be. The first thing I did when I got home was to flip on the fan and trade my t-shirt for a tank top. Yikes, I hate being sweaty. I should get used to it, it's not going to get any better any time soon.
My cold has been replaced with the discomfort of allergy nose...dry then runny...and itchy eyes and a sore throat. I'll ask the doc tomorrow if there's anything I can take for it. On the "plus" side, my sense of smell has climbed up again to the level it was when I first got pregnant. It had been dormant for a while. Today in class I was so grossed out by the smell of my classmates bad coffee. Ick. It could get ugly as everyone gets sweaty.
All in all, so far, not a bad day. Even with the creeping allergies. I hope the sun decides to stick around. Things are much more appealing that way.
International Student Fair--Complete with food booths ranging from fresh crepes to shish-ke-bob and a stage where Muslim rappers were performing.
Student Protest--They staged a walkout and picket line to protest fee hikes across the Cal Sate system.
Science 2 BBQ--I'm not sure who the Science 2 students are...but the BBQ sure smelled good.
I also got flashed from across the street while waiting for my train home by a woman who just didn't understand how short her skirt was as she sat, knees open, at the bus stop. That was before she dropped her cell phone and did some weird contortionist moves to pick it up from behind her seat. That gave me a view I can only describe in terms of my birth class. She was ready for the side laying one leg up pushing position...but I'm not her OB/GYN.
In other news, the shirts were off everywhere as the pasty skinned begin to work on their summer tans! It's about 77 F outside and sunny as can be. The first thing I did when I got home was to flip on the fan and trade my t-shirt for a tank top. Yikes, I hate being sweaty. I should get used to it, it's not going to get any better any time soon.
My cold has been replaced with the discomfort of allergy nose...dry then runny...and itchy eyes and a sore throat. I'll ask the doc tomorrow if there's anything I can take for it. On the "plus" side, my sense of smell has climbed up again to the level it was when I first got pregnant. It had been dormant for a while. Today in class I was so grossed out by the smell of my classmates bad coffee. Ick. It could get ugly as everyone gets sweaty.
All in all, so far, not a bad day. Even with the creeping allergies. I hope the sun decides to stick around. Things are much more appealing that way.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
42 Days and Counting...
It's gone from 40 weeks down to about 40 days. Time flies when you're having a baby.
John and I attended our childbirth class last Saturday. We did the intensive one day eight hour session...that ended up being about nine hours. Our instructor loved the topic, has been teaching classes and acting a professional doula and is currently six months pregnant. Great combination for a class...but it was hard to condense the information.
It was a different experience than what I thought it would be. I was prepared to be frightened by everything we didn't know yet...but it turns out I should be more scared of what everyone else didn't yet know. Was I really the only woman there who already knew (and practicing) what Kegel's are? I thought, foolish me, that most people in this day and age and in this area, would have read up on the basics and would be looking for some specifics from the class. Not so. In Santa Clara County only about 10% of all expecting women attend a birthing class. I wonder what the other 90% do? I know it's an option, but I thought most people would want to know what to expect when the big D-day arrives. I do. Also, Santa Clara County has the highest rate of epidural use in the nation at 98% of births. I'm not judging, because I am so willing to accept the epidural, but I'm at least going to try other things before the feeling in my legs is taken away. That idea kind of bothers me. Laugh all you want mom's who have been there...but we all have our own ideas about labor and how we would like it go.
John and I left thinking that for most couples there that day, this was the only preparation they would do. That's fine...it's at least some preparation. We had breathing techniques explained, comfort measures practiced and some alternative labor positions presented. I like the over-the-side-of-the-bed-squat-bar position. Sounds kind of kinky doesn't it? What was reassuring was the knowledge that John and I are preparing ourselves as much as we can. I think that will make a world of difference when the time comes. It will hopefully allow us to have a sense of control over what is happening...control in that we understand what is going on and what our options are. I will say, John was the best husband there. But, I might be biased.
Six more weeks...give or take. It's getting kind of scary. Yesterday I was bone tired and not feeling very peppy. I had a classmate look at me and go..."You look like you're done with being pregnant and ready to have a baby." Yesterday I might have felt that way...but today I'm just ready to make it through to finals. Yup. I have one month of school left, and only a couple weeks of actual instruction to go. My biggest concern is: What have I learned this semester? Lot's about stars, literature, and even something about myself. It's all kind of a jumble right now mapped out in papers and projects. I'll do all right. Keep your fingers crossed for the next 42 days...
John and I attended our childbirth class last Saturday. We did the intensive one day eight hour session...that ended up being about nine hours. Our instructor loved the topic, has been teaching classes and acting a professional doula and is currently six months pregnant. Great combination for a class...but it was hard to condense the information.
It was a different experience than what I thought it would be. I was prepared to be frightened by everything we didn't know yet...but it turns out I should be more scared of what everyone else didn't yet know. Was I really the only woman there who already knew (and practicing) what Kegel's are? I thought, foolish me, that most people in this day and age and in this area, would have read up on the basics and would be looking for some specifics from the class. Not so. In Santa Clara County only about 10% of all expecting women attend a birthing class. I wonder what the other 90% do? I know it's an option, but I thought most people would want to know what to expect when the big D-day arrives. I do. Also, Santa Clara County has the highest rate of epidural use in the nation at 98% of births. I'm not judging, because I am so willing to accept the epidural, but I'm at least going to try other things before the feeling in my legs is taken away. That idea kind of bothers me. Laugh all you want mom's who have been there...but we all have our own ideas about labor and how we would like it go.
John and I left thinking that for most couples there that day, this was the only preparation they would do. That's fine...it's at least some preparation. We had breathing techniques explained, comfort measures practiced and some alternative labor positions presented. I like the over-the-side-of-the-bed-squat-bar position. Sounds kind of kinky doesn't it? What was reassuring was the knowledge that John and I are preparing ourselves as much as we can. I think that will make a world of difference when the time comes. It will hopefully allow us to have a sense of control over what is happening...control in that we understand what is going on and what our options are. I will say, John was the best husband there. But, I might be biased.
Six more weeks...give or take. It's getting kind of scary. Yesterday I was bone tired and not feeling very peppy. I had a classmate look at me and go..."You look like you're done with being pregnant and ready to have a baby." Yesterday I might have felt that way...but today I'm just ready to make it through to finals. Yup. I have one month of school left, and only a couple weeks of actual instruction to go. My biggest concern is: What have I learned this semester? Lot's about stars, literature, and even something about myself. It's all kind of a jumble right now mapped out in papers and projects. I'll do all right. Keep your fingers crossed for the next 42 days...
Thursday, April 20, 2006
James is the Best Cat Ever
I was inspired this morning to sew. I had the fabric, I had the plans and I have been thinking on this project for weeks now. I made my very first ring sling for the baby. Nothing fancy, just some nice woven fabric, bright purple brushed aluminum rings and a very long tail. I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out. So pleased in fact, I think I will attempt to make a padded sling next with the fabric I didn't end up using and the extra rings I ordered. Why not?
I needed to try on the sling. I've never worn one before, and I was wondering how it would really feel. As there is a lack of babies in the house at this very moment I wondered how I could simulate the weight of a small child across my shoulders. A-ha. I do have a 10lb cat wandering around...but the sun is out and last I saw, he was outside enjoying it. Still musing with the empty sling strapped across my back and chest, I turned as the soft click of the cat door announced the arrival of my dear, sweet victim.
James headed straight for the clean folded laundry on the bed. That was my excuse. Tightening the inner "pouch" of the sling I waltzed into the bedroom and picked up my fur baby in the cradle hold. Gently holding him in one arm and opening the sling with the other, I placed him inside. At first, I thought he was going to bolt for dear life. His little head poked out the top and he turned to face me and let out a plaintive "mew". I simply cradled his back and adjusted the sling until he was snug, but not suffocated. He relaxed. I let go of his backside and started to walk around the house. He poked his head over the side and to watch from this new angle as I walked. It was great. Very comfortable. I felt his warm little body and could tell he was very secure. He must think I'm crazy.
After about 10 minutes of jouncing around, I thought I had better not push my luck with his patience. I didn't want claw marks on my new sling, after all. I walked back to the bedroom and gently got him into my arms and out of the sling. I'm amazed at how easy it was to get a good hold on him coming in and out of the sling. I put him back on the bed and he curled right up again for a nap, no worse for the wear.
My only regret is that I don't have a picture to share of James all snug in the baby sling.
I needed to try on the sling. I've never worn one before, and I was wondering how it would really feel. As there is a lack of babies in the house at this very moment I wondered how I could simulate the weight of a small child across my shoulders. A-ha. I do have a 10lb cat wandering around...but the sun is out and last I saw, he was outside enjoying it. Still musing with the empty sling strapped across my back and chest, I turned as the soft click of the cat door announced the arrival of my dear, sweet victim.
James headed straight for the clean folded laundry on the bed. That was my excuse. Tightening the inner "pouch" of the sling I waltzed into the bedroom and picked up my fur baby in the cradle hold. Gently holding him in one arm and opening the sling with the other, I placed him inside. At first, I thought he was going to bolt for dear life. His little head poked out the top and he turned to face me and let out a plaintive "mew". I simply cradled his back and adjusted the sling until he was snug, but not suffocated. He relaxed. I let go of his backside and started to walk around the house. He poked his head over the side and to watch from this new angle as I walked. It was great. Very comfortable. I felt his warm little body and could tell he was very secure. He must think I'm crazy.
After about 10 minutes of jouncing around, I thought I had better not push my luck with his patience. I didn't want claw marks on my new sling, after all. I walked back to the bedroom and gently got him into my arms and out of the sling. I'm amazed at how easy it was to get a good hold on him coming in and out of the sling. I put him back on the bed and he curled right up again for a nap, no worse for the wear.
My only regret is that I don't have a picture to share of James all snug in the baby sling.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Conversation
Husband: (from floor) I can't get up.
Ever More Pregnant Wife: (from bed) Welcome to my world.
Ever More Pregnant Wife: (from bed) Welcome to my world.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Happy Monday!
The litany of small trials that made my morning yesterday:
Woke up on time...actually got out of bed too late.
Ants attacked the kitchen cabinets.
Went to catch my train to school. As I just reached sidewalk over crossing to the train pulled in...As I ran to the top of the stairs hollering "Wait!" the train pulled away.
It began to rain while I was sitting at the station waiting for the next train.
There were no seats for me on the train.
I had just enough time to walk-at a hustle, with a stitch in my side from running-the five city blocks to campus and get to class on time.
Deciding I needed a small chocolate pick me up for my frustrating morning, I stopped at the vending machine for some peanut M&M's...my package of M&M's got STUCK IN THE MACHINE. I just stood looking at them...hanging there...taunting me.
I spent another .75 to release the original package of M&M's from vending machine bondage.
On the plus side...I still have an uneaten package of peanut M&M's in case today doesn't go well.
Woke up on time...actually got out of bed too late.
Ants attacked the kitchen cabinets.
Went to catch my train to school. As I just reached sidewalk over crossing to the train pulled in...As I ran to the top of the stairs hollering "Wait!" the train pulled away.
It began to rain while I was sitting at the station waiting for the next train.
There were no seats for me on the train.
I had just enough time to walk-at a hustle, with a stitch in my side from running-the five city blocks to campus and get to class on time.
Deciding I needed a small chocolate pick me up for my frustrating morning, I stopped at the vending machine for some peanut M&M's...my package of M&M's got STUCK IN THE MACHINE. I just stood looking at them...hanging there...taunting me.
I spent another .75 to release the original package of M&M's from vending machine bondage.
On the plus side...I still have an uneaten package of peanut M&M's in case today doesn't go well.
Friday, April 7, 2006
Note from the kitchen...
The brownies will be out of the oven in five minutes. If you can make it here in ten, they'll still be warm.
This is what happens when I'm left alone all day and it starts to rain. Again.
This is what happens when I'm left alone all day and it starts to rain. Again.
Lost and Found
Sorry about the two-week break in writing. I've been in my head lately and needed to kind of zone in and away. And then I got sucked into My Space. But that's another story altogether.
The most important happening, and the one that has turned into a catalyst of sorts, is that I have been found. I didn't even know I was lost. In the process of being found, I have made a new friend from an old one and discovered that I might not be as alone in the world as I (sometimes) like to think I am.
Background...(It's a writer's convention that in this case must be followed. Jumping in epic style "in the middle" would just make no sense. It becomes important to the story as a whole, I promise)...I spent the first 1/3 of my life living a semi-gypsy lifestyle. My dad wasn't military; he worked for Bechtel, which is a very large engineering/construction firm. Perhaps you've heard of them? No? They were getting contracts in the Middle East before Halliburton was a household name...Fortunately; Dad worked the domestic side of things. He was a project management accountant. He would be sent to new sites across the United States to help manage the army of construction, union, and contract workers needed to build VERY LARGE THINGS.
The average time on a job was two years. About every two years, from the time I was 2 until I turned 9, my family up and moved to a new place. A new state. Somewhere in the Mid-West. I have three siblings. None of us were born in the same state. I was talking to my mom the other day, and she mentioned how annoying it was to have delivered under four different OB's...she knew what was going to happen (very fast, easy births...lucky...no wonder she had four of us) but each new doctor wouldn't believe her until the baby popped out hours ahead of when the ob said it would. But I digress...
When I was about 5 we landed in Robinson IL. I remember the house, it was one of my favorites...two stories, fireplace, big living room and a bedroom with a view of the street below. I found a ceramic miniature pig toy that the previous owner had lost. I took it to be some kind of omen and the pig was my talisman for a while. The street, in my mind's eye, was idyllic. It was the kind of dreamy, Mid-West town street with large trees and wide lanes that Hollywood would film on. I had a tricycle there...I think...it was a lovely place to be. I had a baby brother at the time. But he was 1 at the most. I ruled the roost and would begin my school career at Lincoln Elementary in the fall.
Best of all, there were playmates on our street. Right across the street lived the girl who would be my best friend for my short stay: Dea. We fell into a natural little girl friendship. She was a year younger than I, but sharp as a tack and could keep up with any and all of my mental imaginations...often beating my ideas out with her own. What I remember best are the games of dress-up we used to play and the long intricate games of "Heidi". She had the best "Clara chair" and we would argue over who got to be the bossy invalid that Heidi, the good girl, eventually saves from herself. Dea would win; by virtue that it was her chair after all...being the bossy one is always the most fun.
I ran away to live with Dea once when my mom wouldn't let me have my own way. We watched Strawberry Shortcake and by the time it was over, I was ready to go home. The shortest running away in history, but also the most fun. Speaking of Strawberry Shortcake...Dea saved the day at my 6th birthday party. She was the only girl who had the very rare "Orange Blossom" doll that would complete the table setting at my themed party. She very graciously loaned me the doll. That was the best party of my childhood. My dad even dressed up as the Purple Pie man of Porcupine Peak. I couldn't get mom to agree to dress as Sour Grapes, the female "bad guy", but having the Pie man there was treat enough.
I remember hunting fireflies in her back yard on warm summer nights.
I remember she had much older siblings, and how cool I thought that was, being that baby brothers aren't that interesting.
For some reason I also have a memory of her tied in with an eight-track player and tapes...but my memory is sketchy at best. That is my problem.
You see, I left. And part of my coping with leaving is to forget. I have only scattered memories of my early childhood...like most children. I thought I was normal in this respect. I have better memories than my siblings. Of course, I am older than they are. But over time...my pictures of Dea faded in to the other places I was. I have one photograph of us together, but I can hardly remember the little girl I was...much less the girl she was. Across the years, I would think of her. I asked mom about how to find people, if I could go back to Robinson to look for her one day. I foolishly thought I could send a letter to our old address and ask the new owners to deliver it to "Dea across the street"...I couldn't even remember her full name anymore. Our last move, from Michigan to California, all but erased my life in the Mid-West. We had to pack light, and any trace I might still have had of Dea was gone. Except for that one photograph.
It was rather a surprise when I checked my news list-group-filler e-mail box a couple of weeks ago and found a message from Reunion.com. From Dea. How many Dea's are there in the world...who would even know to look for me? Stunned, I replied that I was indeed the one and only Valerie Kesweder (maiden name folks...distinctive...yes...memorable, I didn't think so...) and how the heck was she after 20+ years?
So, the reunion of a friendship began. If by some weird chance my family had stayed in Robinson...I believe Dea and I would have stayed friends. She is still wicked sharp...funny...imaginative. She's a writer. A wife...a military wife at that. A mother of two young boys. An independent thinker. A painted and pierced lady. A home baker with a new food processor. A computer junkie. A graphic designer. A thinker. A friend. And now she is the traveling gypsy and I am the spot-bound girl. She didn't leave that same street until college...and has now lived across the US.
I am scared and thrilled by this new friendship in my life. Scared by the immediacy and the connection I am feeling across years with nothing but notes and pictures to fill the gaps. Thrilled, because connection is something I crave, but something I am only just now learning to nurture. So far, it's e-mail and My Space and the occasional on-line chat...I am happy with that. It's amazing to me to have been found by a girl I loved as a child and begin to understand, and perhaps love, the women we have both become.
The most important happening, and the one that has turned into a catalyst of sorts, is that I have been found. I didn't even know I was lost. In the process of being found, I have made a new friend from an old one and discovered that I might not be as alone in the world as I (sometimes) like to think I am.
Background...(It's a writer's convention that in this case must be followed. Jumping in epic style "in the middle" would just make no sense. It becomes important to the story as a whole, I promise)...I spent the first 1/3 of my life living a semi-gypsy lifestyle. My dad wasn't military; he worked for Bechtel, which is a very large engineering/construction firm. Perhaps you've heard of them? No? They were getting contracts in the Middle East before Halliburton was a household name...Fortunately; Dad worked the domestic side of things. He was a project management accountant. He would be sent to new sites across the United States to help manage the army of construction, union, and contract workers needed to build VERY LARGE THINGS.
The average time on a job was two years. About every two years, from the time I was 2 until I turned 9, my family up and moved to a new place. A new state. Somewhere in the Mid-West. I have three siblings. None of us were born in the same state. I was talking to my mom the other day, and she mentioned how annoying it was to have delivered under four different OB's...she knew what was going to happen (very fast, easy births...lucky...no wonder she had four of us) but each new doctor wouldn't believe her until the baby popped out hours ahead of when the ob said it would. But I digress...
When I was about 5 we landed in Robinson IL. I remember the house, it was one of my favorites...two stories, fireplace, big living room and a bedroom with a view of the street below. I found a ceramic miniature pig toy that the previous owner had lost. I took it to be some kind of omen and the pig was my talisman for a while. The street, in my mind's eye, was idyllic. It was the kind of dreamy, Mid-West town street with large trees and wide lanes that Hollywood would film on. I had a tricycle there...I think...it was a lovely place to be. I had a baby brother at the time. But he was 1 at the most. I ruled the roost and would begin my school career at Lincoln Elementary in the fall.
Best of all, there were playmates on our street. Right across the street lived the girl who would be my best friend for my short stay: Dea. We fell into a natural little girl friendship. She was a year younger than I, but sharp as a tack and could keep up with any and all of my mental imaginations...often beating my ideas out with her own. What I remember best are the games of dress-up we used to play and the long intricate games of "Heidi". She had the best "Clara chair" and we would argue over who got to be the bossy invalid that Heidi, the good girl, eventually saves from herself. Dea would win; by virtue that it was her chair after all...being the bossy one is always the most fun.
I ran away to live with Dea once when my mom wouldn't let me have my own way. We watched Strawberry Shortcake and by the time it was over, I was ready to go home. The shortest running away in history, but also the most fun. Speaking of Strawberry Shortcake...Dea saved the day at my 6th birthday party. She was the only girl who had the very rare "Orange Blossom" doll that would complete the table setting at my themed party. She very graciously loaned me the doll. That was the best party of my childhood. My dad even dressed up as the Purple Pie man of Porcupine Peak. I couldn't get mom to agree to dress as Sour Grapes, the female "bad guy", but having the Pie man there was treat enough.
I remember hunting fireflies in her back yard on warm summer nights.
I remember she had much older siblings, and how cool I thought that was, being that baby brothers aren't that interesting.
For some reason I also have a memory of her tied in with an eight-track player and tapes...but my memory is sketchy at best. That is my problem.
You see, I left. And part of my coping with leaving is to forget. I have only scattered memories of my early childhood...like most children. I thought I was normal in this respect. I have better memories than my siblings. Of course, I am older than they are. But over time...my pictures of Dea faded in to the other places I was. I have one photograph of us together, but I can hardly remember the little girl I was...much less the girl she was. Across the years, I would think of her. I asked mom about how to find people, if I could go back to Robinson to look for her one day. I foolishly thought I could send a letter to our old address and ask the new owners to deliver it to "Dea across the street"...I couldn't even remember her full name anymore. Our last move, from Michigan to California, all but erased my life in the Mid-West. We had to pack light, and any trace I might still have had of Dea was gone. Except for that one photograph.
It was rather a surprise when I checked my news list-group-filler e-mail box a couple of weeks ago and found a message from Reunion.com. From Dea. How many Dea's are there in the world...who would even know to look for me? Stunned, I replied that I was indeed the one and only Valerie Kesweder (maiden name folks...distinctive...yes...memorable, I didn't think so...) and how the heck was she after 20+ years?
So, the reunion of a friendship began. If by some weird chance my family had stayed in Robinson...I believe Dea and I would have stayed friends. She is still wicked sharp...funny...imaginative. She's a writer. A wife...a military wife at that. A mother of two young boys. An independent thinker. A painted and pierced lady. A home baker with a new food processor. A computer junkie. A graphic designer. A thinker. A friend. And now she is the traveling gypsy and I am the spot-bound girl. She didn't leave that same street until college...and has now lived across the US.
I am scared and thrilled by this new friendship in my life. Scared by the immediacy and the connection I am feeling across years with nothing but notes and pictures to fill the gaps. Thrilled, because connection is something I crave, but something I am only just now learning to nurture. So far, it's e-mail and My Space and the occasional on-line chat...I am happy with that. It's amazing to me to have been found by a girl I loved as a child and begin to understand, and perhaps love, the women we have both become.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Spring Break! Woo-Hoo?
I woke up this morning, well, it was about three AM when this realization hit me, to the fact that the sniffles I have been fighting have turned into a full-blown cold. It was bound to happen sometime. I got the kind of achy-almost sick thing back in December, but nothing came of it. Spring is usually worse for me. There are so many more hacking and coughing students packed into too hot rooms with too cold temperatures outside for it to not happen. So, here I am on the cusp of Spring Break (one week...no classes...three papers and catch up work to do...) hacking away with the stuffed up runny nose. Great. I check the "What to Expect..." pregnancy Bible and yes, what I have is progressing as a normal cold. What I can do about it? Sleep, eat healthy, drink extra fluids (I'm already drinking at least 64 oz a day!) and have some chicken soup. If it doesn't clear up within the week, call the doctor for more suggestions. Thanks.
But, it is the Friday before Spring Break...the last day of classes for me and I didn't want to ditch out (again) on yoga. So...I made poor John rush through his morning, I hustled out the door and scrambled to the gym only to find the class locked out of the yoga room. After about five minutes of waiting the PE admin announced that class was canceled. This must be some kind of Karmic payback for missing class when I really wasn't sick...just lazy.
Two hours to kill before astronomy.
Astronomy was fine...except for the sniffling and coughing on my part. Not the best frame of mind to learn about HII clouds and H2 molecules and that space is not empty. It's like the ocean...only the water that fills everything in at different temperatures and pressures is this gas and dust stuff...Inter-Stellar Matter...yes, very interesting stuff.
In any case, I'm home now and happy to be here. I need to run the dishes from last nights dinner with Miss V. That was so much fun! We hadn't had a good catch-up chat since December. She brought a divine ruhbabrd tart from the restaurant where she works...super yum. I made sea food paella and brought out the last bottle of Spanish wine. John and Miss V enjoyed that..although I admit to having half a glass with dinner...it was the last bottle! Dinners are always nice, I only wish I was feeling better.
I plan on taking the weekend slow. I already canceled some tentative plans I had with my Mom...which is sad...but my goal tomorrow is to sleep in and rest and run some small errands with John. Then sleep some more. I know, the exciting life I lead, but in the end it will make me feel a whole bunch better. So I can tackle all those papers next week.
But, it is the Friday before Spring Break...the last day of classes for me and I didn't want to ditch out (again) on yoga. So...I made poor John rush through his morning, I hustled out the door and scrambled to the gym only to find the class locked out of the yoga room. After about five minutes of waiting the PE admin announced that class was canceled. This must be some kind of Karmic payback for missing class when I really wasn't sick...just lazy.
Two hours to kill before astronomy.
Astronomy was fine...except for the sniffling and coughing on my part. Not the best frame of mind to learn about HII clouds and H2 molecules and that space is not empty. It's like the ocean...only the water that fills everything in at different temperatures and pressures is this gas and dust stuff...Inter-Stellar Matter...yes, very interesting stuff.
In any case, I'm home now and happy to be here. I need to run the dishes from last nights dinner with Miss V. That was so much fun! We hadn't had a good catch-up chat since December. She brought a divine ruhbabrd tart from the restaurant where she works...super yum. I made sea food paella and brought out the last bottle of Spanish wine. John and Miss V enjoyed that..although I admit to having half a glass with dinner...it was the last bottle! Dinners are always nice, I only wish I was feeling better.
I plan on taking the weekend slow. I already canceled some tentative plans I had with my Mom...which is sad...but my goal tomorrow is to sleep in and rest and run some small errands with John. Then sleep some more. I know, the exciting life I lead, but in the end it will make me feel a whole bunch better. So I can tackle all those papers next week.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
You've Waited so Long forThis...
Yes folks, I ran into the older brother of the infamous Boom Box Girl (check the October 05 archives as I don't know how to link ya'll there from here) from San Jose State. I was waiting at the Santa Clara Light Rail station...note: En-route to this very station yesterday the following conversation between two grad student-looking guys was overheard by yours truly-"Yeah, Santa Clara is closer to where I'm going, but I won't get off there, it's just so, you know, ghetto." It is a bit downtown if you know what I mean, but geeez, I don't have any problems walking to campus from there, and I'm six and a half months pregnant. Get a grip guys, your college is the middle of a freakin' city....where was I?
Right, waiting at the light rail station when the sound of really loud Latin pop music began to drown out the construction noise. Not a small feat, the construction is involving jack hammers right now. And yet, the Latin pop music was winning the battle of the airwaves. I had to look to see who could be making such a distinct impression upon my day. Who should appear but a very large Latino man in full leather biker gear riding a very big very, very, very, yellow (think Tweety bird yellow) three-wheeled motorcycle. The entire back side of the motorcycle over the two back wheels was one large casing for speakers. His head was well below the speaker line, making the perfect rolling sound stage. He cruised around the block at least two times before my train got there. You go biker man.
Other than that, I have a cold and am beginning to feel pretty miserable. Which figures, because Spring Break is next week. I have at least two papers to write, and if I was a good girl, I'd get four done, plus small writings I'm behind on. As it is, I hope to feel better and sew more baby stuff. I ordered rings today to make myself a simple sling carrier. If I get wacky, I may try to make a padded pouch carrier as well. Go mama.
And this is what I've made you all wait so long to read about. Ha. I love blogging.
Right, waiting at the light rail station when the sound of really loud Latin pop music began to drown out the construction noise. Not a small feat, the construction is involving jack hammers right now. And yet, the Latin pop music was winning the battle of the airwaves. I had to look to see who could be making such a distinct impression upon my day. Who should appear but a very large Latino man in full leather biker gear riding a very big very, very, very, yellow (think Tweety bird yellow) three-wheeled motorcycle. The entire back side of the motorcycle over the two back wheels was one large casing for speakers. His head was well below the speaker line, making the perfect rolling sound stage. He cruised around the block at least two times before my train got there. You go biker man.
Other than that, I have a cold and am beginning to feel pretty miserable. Which figures, because Spring Break is next week. I have at least two papers to write, and if I was a good girl, I'd get four done, plus small writings I'm behind on. As it is, I hope to feel better and sew more baby stuff. I ordered rings today to make myself a simple sling carrier. If I get wacky, I may try to make a padded pouch carrier as well. Go mama.
And this is what I've made you all wait so long to read about. Ha. I love blogging.
Tuesday, March 7, 2006
You Might Have Forgotten
I am really still in school and doing things not related to getting ready to have a child. Don't laugh, really I am. Today was a big day in school for me, I had my first mid-term and I got back my first paper in career writing. I can't complain about either, really.
It was miserable today. Weather wise. It was pouring rain when I had to leave for class which is not a great motivator. Neither was the fact that I'd been bopping around in the house in pj's all morning enjoying the quiet house. Or the fact that I had to go take a test. I always hate the first test of the semester in any class, and I really hate it when we have only two tests that count for a whole lot of grade. And of course I had to go early and buy a blue book. For some reason, the only times I've been in the student store to purchase supplies...no matter what...it's been raining. No kidding. Last semester too. Weird.
So, I get to class mildly damp and settle in for one last review of my notes. I'm glad I got there early, because it was a full house. As my teacher walked in she commented: "Boy, there must be a test or something today, because the classroom hasn't been this full since the first day." The test, all in all wasn't too bad...but we'll see if I write enough on the passages for full credit. It took me the entire period to finish. That hasn't happened in a long time. I was rushing at the end to write down the last few definitions. Note to self: I think I'll start with the definitions first next time, and spend less time reviewing the test as a whole.
Next stop was the bathroom. But you didn't need to know that.
Then on to my career writing class to pick up my paper. I didn't have to attend class today, the Newsletter team is editing, and I'm on the Writing Life team...so we were free to stay away. I did want my paper, and because my two classes are in the same building, and this one is on my way out even, it was silly not to go. Did I mention that I really wanted to see my paper?
This assignment was to interview a writer of our choosing and write a profile of them. It's been ages since I've done a formal interview. I chose to write on a fellow blogger and freelance writer: Manic Mom. Check her site out at http://www.manicmommy.blogspot.com. The interview was great fun and I enjoyed the write up. Even the peer review process was helpful. Our professor expects us to come to class having already read and commented on our group's papers. This allows us real time to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of each individual paper. It was a new experience, and one I actually learned from. I think my paper got better from the suggestions. Not perfect, but better.
When all was said and done, I got a B+ which I am very pleased with. Our professor is notorious for being a very tough grader. She made some very good points about where my paper "lost it" and if I made her corrections, it would be an even better piece. But, woo-hoo for a solid start in her class. She also suggested I write a piece for The Writing Life about freelance writing. I think I will, from my research last semester and this interview, I think I could do a pretty good job with it. Good things all around. I feel pretty good about the class so far, and if I can maintain a solid B I will feel as though I have done a good job. I have set the goal of no punctuation errors for my next piece of writing...sloppy sloppy girl that I am. ;)
Now...I really must get back to work on my paper about the subtle Christian themes that run through selected Old and Middle English works. Blah. Sometimes it's not all that much fun to be a writer.
It was miserable today. Weather wise. It was pouring rain when I had to leave for class which is not a great motivator. Neither was the fact that I'd been bopping around in the house in pj's all morning enjoying the quiet house. Or the fact that I had to go take a test. I always hate the first test of the semester in any class, and I really hate it when we have only two tests that count for a whole lot of grade. And of course I had to go early and buy a blue book. For some reason, the only times I've been in the student store to purchase supplies...no matter what...it's been raining. No kidding. Last semester too. Weird.
So, I get to class mildly damp and settle in for one last review of my notes. I'm glad I got there early, because it was a full house. As my teacher walked in she commented: "Boy, there must be a test or something today, because the classroom hasn't been this full since the first day." The test, all in all wasn't too bad...but we'll see if I write enough on the passages for full credit. It took me the entire period to finish. That hasn't happened in a long time. I was rushing at the end to write down the last few definitions. Note to self: I think I'll start with the definitions first next time, and spend less time reviewing the test as a whole.
Next stop was the bathroom. But you didn't need to know that.
Then on to my career writing class to pick up my paper. I didn't have to attend class today, the Newsletter team is editing, and I'm on the Writing Life team...so we were free to stay away. I did want my paper, and because my two classes are in the same building, and this one is on my way out even, it was silly not to go. Did I mention that I really wanted to see my paper?
This assignment was to interview a writer of our choosing and write a profile of them. It's been ages since I've done a formal interview. I chose to write on a fellow blogger and freelance writer: Manic Mom. Check her site out at http://www.manicmommy.blogspot.com. The interview was great fun and I enjoyed the write up. Even the peer review process was helpful. Our professor expects us to come to class having already read and commented on our group's papers. This allows us real time to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of each individual paper. It was a new experience, and one I actually learned from. I think my paper got better from the suggestions. Not perfect, but better.
When all was said and done, I got a B+ which I am very pleased with. Our professor is notorious for being a very tough grader. She made some very good points about where my paper "lost it" and if I made her corrections, it would be an even better piece. But, woo-hoo for a solid start in her class. She also suggested I write a piece for The Writing Life about freelance writing. I think I will, from my research last semester and this interview, I think I could do a pretty good job with it. Good things all around. I feel pretty good about the class so far, and if I can maintain a solid B I will feel as though I have done a good job. I have set the goal of no punctuation errors for my next piece of writing...sloppy sloppy girl that I am. ;)
Now...I really must get back to work on my paper about the subtle Christian themes that run through selected Old and Middle English works. Blah. Sometimes it's not all that much fun to be a writer.
Monday, March 6, 2006
Doula-Waah-Ditty-Ditty-Dum-Ditty-Doo
I just finished reading "The Official Lamaze Guide to Giving Birth with Confidence". My favorite analogy was the "new shoe blister pain aversion". I can relate to that, having worn wildly inappropriate shoes to most functions for the greater part of my life. I am nursing blisters right now from an extended no-sock excursion two weeks ago. Hmm...so labor as a painful blister you must work through, 'cause you chose to wear those lovely shoes, after all. Yeah, I can deal with that.
Somehow, I imagine labor will be slightly more painful than a blister. And those nights of wildly inappropriate shoe wearing I usually had some kind of pain killer going on: lots of drinks.
As I head into the final push (forgive my pun) of pregnancy, the labor process has been on my mind. I am not expecting to avoid pain, but I would like to avoid unnecessary discomfort. The Lamaze book (a philosophy, not just a breathing method anymore!) gave me much to think about. I had to create some serious mental filters while reading to avoid the heavy handed propaganda against the medical community, but with this accomplished I got some good advice and some real food for thought. One avenue I am going to explore that I hadn't considered before is to hire a professional labor support person, otherwise known as a doula.
The term "doula" comes from the Greeks, and was the most trusted female member of a lady's house. She was the personal support for the woman of the house, and today doulas are the personal support for a laboring woman. They offer emotional support all the way through labor and delivery, and are trained in relaxation techniques as well as various labor and birthing positions. They have attend many, many births, and know what to expect. They do not offer medical advice, but can remind you of your options, and guide you to ask questions to determine the best course of action for your birth. Women who labor with doulas often don't need medical intervention or drugs to make it through labor. While I'm not against painkillers, I would like to avoid as many interventions as possible. Just to see if I can do it.
Another reason I'm thinking of having a doula with me, is I like the idea of someone impartial being around during the birthing process. I know John will be with me, but he's going to be as emotionally attached to the situation as I am. It would be nice to have someone who can help both of us remain calm and focused. It takes the pressure off both of us to be at top performance, and I think will allow us to relax and remain a bit calmer during the storm.
The trouble I'm running into now is how to find a doula. Because I'm not willing to buck the traditional system all together, I am not in a position to easily seek a doula or two out. If I was using a midwife, or going the birth center route, I'm sure I would have one already. As it is, I am using a traditional hospital and a single practice OB as my main birthing team. I've had no luck finding doulas in this area so far, but my search has just begun. The Internet has sadly let me down on this one, unless I want to go to San Francisco or Santa Cruz to deliver this baby. Neither are my first choices, so we'll see what comes up in the good ole South Bay.
I have a few more months to figure things out. Otherwise, it'll just be me and the hubby against the contractions.
Somehow, I imagine labor will be slightly more painful than a blister. And those nights of wildly inappropriate shoe wearing I usually had some kind of pain killer going on: lots of drinks.
As I head into the final push (forgive my pun) of pregnancy, the labor process has been on my mind. I am not expecting to avoid pain, but I would like to avoid unnecessary discomfort. The Lamaze book (a philosophy, not just a breathing method anymore!) gave me much to think about. I had to create some serious mental filters while reading to avoid the heavy handed propaganda against the medical community, but with this accomplished I got some good advice and some real food for thought. One avenue I am going to explore that I hadn't considered before is to hire a professional labor support person, otherwise known as a doula.
The term "doula" comes from the Greeks, and was the most trusted female member of a lady's house. She was the personal support for the woman of the house, and today doulas are the personal support for a laboring woman. They offer emotional support all the way through labor and delivery, and are trained in relaxation techniques as well as various labor and birthing positions. They have attend many, many births, and know what to expect. They do not offer medical advice, but can remind you of your options, and guide you to ask questions to determine the best course of action for your birth. Women who labor with doulas often don't need medical intervention or drugs to make it through labor. While I'm not against painkillers, I would like to avoid as many interventions as possible. Just to see if I can do it.
Another reason I'm thinking of having a doula with me, is I like the idea of someone impartial being around during the birthing process. I know John will be with me, but he's going to be as emotionally attached to the situation as I am. It would be nice to have someone who can help both of us remain calm and focused. It takes the pressure off both of us to be at top performance, and I think will allow us to relax and remain a bit calmer during the storm.
The trouble I'm running into now is how to find a doula. Because I'm not willing to buck the traditional system all together, I am not in a position to easily seek a doula or two out. If I was using a midwife, or going the birth center route, I'm sure I would have one already. As it is, I am using a traditional hospital and a single practice OB as my main birthing team. I've had no luck finding doulas in this area so far, but my search has just begun. The Internet has sadly let me down on this one, unless I want to go to San Francisco or Santa Cruz to deliver this baby. Neither are my first choices, so we'll see what comes up in the good ole South Bay.
I have a few more months to figure things out. Otherwise, it'll just be me and the hubby against the contractions.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Day Trip
I think it was Friday morning, or perhaps the evening before, when Hubby and I decided to "do something" on Saturday. We've been kind of house bound on the weekend as of late...on Monday we had managed to take a nice little hike/walk that got us to feeling like we should do that more often...so my suggestion for the weekend: "Let's hike/walk on Saturday!" thinking we'd come to the same place. His suggestion: "Let's fly to Columbia, have breakfast and hike/walk around there all day!" The winner: His suggestion.
We've also been woefully neglecting the coolness of having a small plane to day trip in. It's not something everyone gets to do, and once the kid gets here we won't be able to pop in and zip around for a day. I don't think they make baby-sized headphones...and who knows if the baby seat will fit in the back of the plane. In any case, the last time I went up in the plane was for a camping trip right before we conceived. So, it's been about six months since I've been flying, and baby never has. ;) Well, at least not with Dad at the controls.
The day dawned beautifully. We were both worried that the Central Valley might be fogged over, and then it would have been a no-go for us. Columbia is a 49'er gold rush town that has a neat historical park with the old buildings and costumed folks and gold panning and all that jazz. The park is a short walk from the airport. Geographically, it's nestled into the Sierra Foothills, a short (less than one hour) flight from San Jose. John checked the weather from home while I cleaned myself up...all clear. He then called around looking for a breakfast spot. The recommendation he received was for a local place called Billy Whisker's. I was feeling skeptical about the name, but decided to look the place over before nixing it. After all...breakfast was the treat, and not the entire reason to go.
Off to the airport we went to get the plane ready. Well, that's John's job; I stand and try to help by untying stuff: like the wings and tail of the plane and putting other stuff away. Once we took off, we could see the air was very hazy below us. Kind of yucky and we weren't able to see much on the ground which is one of the neatest things about small plane flying. You're closer than when flying commercial and the ground looks, well...it's a bird's eye view...I really enjoy looking at the map and picking points out. I like to follow our course and see what's beneath us. The hazy conditions made that much harder.
The flight was really smooth and pleasant, despite the haze. Once we touched down in Columbia, one of four small planes jostling for landing strip space, we were ready for breakfast. It was around 10:30 or 11:00 when we started the short walk into town. Billy Whisker's turned out to be a charming, small, family run breakfast and lunch spot with a bakery. There were about 6 tables, all full, when we got there. One cleared out quickly, the lady speaking to the owner..."I'm leaving now, they can have my table"...as a regular would. Small menu, but when my omelett came out I was in heaven. Everything was fresh and tasty!
Then on to the historic old town. We walked down main street, drooled in the candy store, and then looked for a more hike kind of walk. John pointed out the "trail" to the old schoolhouse and away we went. Columbia is not the place for a serious day hiker. The "trail" was a nice wide dirt path adjacent to the road and running past people's homes. Not wild at all. But still, a nice walk. The schoolhouse has been beautifully restored to it's 1860 glory. It was the first two-story brick schoolhouse in the state. It was also attached to some seamy local politics. Graft and waste are not new to school board trustees, apparently. The building was closed in 1937 because it did not meet the new earthquake standards for school buildings in the state. Children went to school in tents for two years while a more modern school was built across town. Things really don't change much in local politics, do they?
Right next to the schoolhouse was the local cemetery. And I mean right next to. We could see the grave markers from the window behind the teacher's desk. I love old cemeteries and haven't been to one in a long while. I was sorry we didn't get to poke around any while we were in New Orleans...but the state of the city left much to be wondered about, and I didn't want to poke into old bones in a literal way...Columbia's cemetery was begun as a Mason and Odd Fellow plot, then opened to the public as the need for a larger cemetery grew. That happened right as gold prospecting and mining grew in the area. The sheer number of men aged 25-32 in the cemetery is sobering. Many came out to the the Mother Lode to make a fortune and ended up giving their lives in purist of a dream. It was a hard life, no matter how romantic it may sound now. In later years, you'll find the graves of wives who died, in child labor, most likely, and the small graves of children caught by disease. Pioneering is never easy; a fact that the old stones bear witness to.
Columbia is a source of beautiful, almost pure white, marble. That's part of its history. This cemetery has some impressively carved stone, because of the local source. Everyone has a nice marble headstone...either a simple slab or a small monument. I commented how much I loved the old stones, and if I were to have a plot, that's what I'd want to mark it. John was intrigued by the iron fences some chose to mark their resting plots with. He liked the feeling of "this space is mine" the fencing invoked. We also checked out names to see if one would jump out at us. Hearing different combinations of first-middle-last is always fun. Nothing changed our minds concerning baby names, but looking was fun.
We decided to head back into town for one last stroll and a Sarsaparilla soda. MMM...pregnancy has rekindled my love for exotic soda flavors. The Sarsaparilla was a local brew, and we felt good about that. We people watched and drank soda and chatted. It was just very nice to be out in the sunshine and enjoying each other's company. We also popped into the candy store-again-and bought horehound, clove, and sassafras flavored hard candies. Then I drooled over the production area in back. More large copper pots than I've ever seen in one place. If we moved there, I'd have to get a job in the candy store. Sugar work is so much fun!
The flight back was as smooth as the one there, but the haze was made worse by the setting sun. Oh well, it could have been a prettier day to fly, but it couldn't have been nicer. I love the mini-adventures we manage to have. Nothing beats spending time together outside of our "normal" schedules. My goal is to instill a love of mini-adventures into our kids and have loads of fun family time in the not so distant future. It shouldn't take much to have a good day.
We've also been woefully neglecting the coolness of having a small plane to day trip in. It's not something everyone gets to do, and once the kid gets here we won't be able to pop in and zip around for a day. I don't think they make baby-sized headphones...and who knows if the baby seat will fit in the back of the plane. In any case, the last time I went up in the plane was for a camping trip right before we conceived. So, it's been about six months since I've been flying, and baby never has. ;) Well, at least not with Dad at the controls.
The day dawned beautifully. We were both worried that the Central Valley might be fogged over, and then it would have been a no-go for us. Columbia is a 49'er gold rush town that has a neat historical park with the old buildings and costumed folks and gold panning and all that jazz. The park is a short walk from the airport. Geographically, it's nestled into the Sierra Foothills, a short (less than one hour) flight from San Jose. John checked the weather from home while I cleaned myself up...all clear. He then called around looking for a breakfast spot. The recommendation he received was for a local place called Billy Whisker's. I was feeling skeptical about the name, but decided to look the place over before nixing it. After all...breakfast was the treat, and not the entire reason to go.
Off to the airport we went to get the plane ready. Well, that's John's job; I stand and try to help by untying stuff: like the wings and tail of the plane and putting other stuff away. Once we took off, we could see the air was very hazy below us. Kind of yucky and we weren't able to see much on the ground which is one of the neatest things about small plane flying. You're closer than when flying commercial and the ground looks, well...it's a bird's eye view...I really enjoy looking at the map and picking points out. I like to follow our course and see what's beneath us. The hazy conditions made that much harder.
The flight was really smooth and pleasant, despite the haze. Once we touched down in Columbia, one of four small planes jostling for landing strip space, we were ready for breakfast. It was around 10:30 or 11:00 when we started the short walk into town. Billy Whisker's turned out to be a charming, small, family run breakfast and lunch spot with a bakery. There were about 6 tables, all full, when we got there. One cleared out quickly, the lady speaking to the owner..."I'm leaving now, they can have my table"...as a regular would. Small menu, but when my omelett came out I was in heaven. Everything was fresh and tasty!
Then on to the historic old town. We walked down main street, drooled in the candy store, and then looked for a more hike kind of walk. John pointed out the "trail" to the old schoolhouse and away we went. Columbia is not the place for a serious day hiker. The "trail" was a nice wide dirt path adjacent to the road and running past people's homes. Not wild at all. But still, a nice walk. The schoolhouse has been beautifully restored to it's 1860 glory. It was the first two-story brick schoolhouse in the state. It was also attached to some seamy local politics. Graft and waste are not new to school board trustees, apparently. The building was closed in 1937 because it did not meet the new earthquake standards for school buildings in the state. Children went to school in tents for two years while a more modern school was built across town. Things really don't change much in local politics, do they?
Right next to the schoolhouse was the local cemetery. And I mean right next to. We could see the grave markers from the window behind the teacher's desk. I love old cemeteries and haven't been to one in a long while. I was sorry we didn't get to poke around any while we were in New Orleans...but the state of the city left much to be wondered about, and I didn't want to poke into old bones in a literal way...Columbia's cemetery was begun as a Mason and Odd Fellow plot, then opened to the public as the need for a larger cemetery grew. That happened right as gold prospecting and mining grew in the area. The sheer number of men aged 25-32 in the cemetery is sobering. Many came out to the the Mother Lode to make a fortune and ended up giving their lives in purist of a dream. It was a hard life, no matter how romantic it may sound now. In later years, you'll find the graves of wives who died, in child labor, most likely, and the small graves of children caught by disease. Pioneering is never easy; a fact that the old stones bear witness to.
Columbia is a source of beautiful, almost pure white, marble. That's part of its history. This cemetery has some impressively carved stone, because of the local source. Everyone has a nice marble headstone...either a simple slab or a small monument. I commented how much I loved the old stones, and if I were to have a plot, that's what I'd want to mark it. John was intrigued by the iron fences some chose to mark their resting plots with. He liked the feeling of "this space is mine" the fencing invoked. We also checked out names to see if one would jump out at us. Hearing different combinations of first-middle-last is always fun. Nothing changed our minds concerning baby names, but looking was fun.
We decided to head back into town for one last stroll and a Sarsaparilla soda. MMM...pregnancy has rekindled my love for exotic soda flavors. The Sarsaparilla was a local brew, and we felt good about that. We people watched and drank soda and chatted. It was just very nice to be out in the sunshine and enjoying each other's company. We also popped into the candy store-again-and bought horehound, clove, and sassafras flavored hard candies. Then I drooled over the production area in back. More large copper pots than I've ever seen in one place. If we moved there, I'd have to get a job in the candy store. Sugar work is so much fun!
The flight back was as smooth as the one there, but the haze was made worse by the setting sun. Oh well, it could have been a prettier day to fly, but it couldn't have been nicer. I love the mini-adventures we manage to have. Nothing beats spending time together outside of our "normal" schedules. My goal is to instill a love of mini-adventures into our kids and have loads of fun family time in the not so distant future. It shouldn't take much to have a good day.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Lemon Meringue Day...
...sounds like a nice day? Nope. Tuesday was awful for everyone living in my house. Little sis had her car break down, I was late for class because of a bike race downtown, hubby had work problems. No one was happy. Small frustrations lead up to a general grumpy feeling in the house and that is never good.
My solution? Lemon meringue pie. Sometimes you just have to let go of doctors orders and live life. By ten PM we were full of soft polenta (comfort food if ever there was one) and digging into large slices of fresh pie.
Life was good again.
My solution? Lemon meringue pie. Sometimes you just have to let go of doctors orders and live life. By ten PM we were full of soft polenta (comfort food if ever there was one) and digging into large slices of fresh pie.
Life was good again.
Friday, February 17, 2006
La League of Extraordinary Women
I went on an adventure this past Wednesday evening. I attended my very first La Leche League meeting. I have been reading "The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding" and felt that it might do me some good to get out and meet real women who subscribe to the philosophy of La Leche.
I was a bit frightened by my recent reading. Like any group that is dedicated to a goal, the rhetoric used can be...umm...off-putting. I'm a convert to their camp, I believe in what they're saying but I am no evangelist and tent revivals don't do it for me. I like calm facts, studies and proven methods. I'm not very new-age when it comes to health and nutrition. Overwrought messages and a thousand plugs for their group and products make me want to dismiss them altogether. I'm guessing I might not be the totally typical reader for this book for a couple of reasons:
First off, there has never been a question on my mind of whether or not to breastfeed. I started practicing on my dolls at the age of five...'cause that's what mommies did with babies. Being little in the Mid-West in a church culture of stay-at-home-moms makes breastfeeding really normal. Everyone did it. I didn't even know there were other options until I hit high school health. So the debate portion of baby feeding has, for the most part, passed me by.
Second, all of my mommy friends in the past 2 years have chosen to breastfeed. I have a huge support group, it's very normal with all the moms I hang with. There is no fear of being looked at weird when we get together for Saturday BBQ's and the kid gets hungry. In fact, I'll be one of two currently breastfeeding moms when our little one makes the scene. Peer pressure to feed otherwise has been left out.
Or perhaps I am the correct reader, but they are also trying to attract a wider audience; attract those women who might be on the fence. Knowing that often it takes a bold statement of purpose to get to folks who otherwise wouldn't listen to the message at all, and knowing that what actually happens with real women vs. what the ideal presented in the book is, I decided that attending a meeting was a good idea for me. After all, the women at the meeting would be real moms, from the area and I could gauge what the group was actually about.
I have the list of meetings being held in the greater South Bay area and decided upon the evening meeting. The day meetings all clashed with my school schedule. I also figured that the evening meetings would bring working moms, and I thought that they might be even more practical in their approach to La Leche and breastfeeding in general. I was nervous at first. The meetings are held in someones home and I didn't call ahead or anything, I just showed up. That was fine. I was also the only one there who didn't actually have a kid breastfeeding. That was also fine. The children there that night ranged from age one month to four years. The moms were a mix across the South Bay ethnicity scale, which I thought was great, and they ranged in age across the childbearing board as well...but the mid thirties was a good median.
The first thing the leader said was that the group was not dedicated to one standard practice, and that not all methods or suggestions worked for all moms. They were there to help you in all you breastfeeding decisions, because the ultimate goal was to raise happy, healthy breastfed children. That put me at ease right away. There have been some suggestions in the book that I was not completely comfortable with, and I was wondering how much I'd have to buy into the philosophy to participate. Why go at all, the astute reader might ask. It has to do with my "learning style". I don't take advice from people I know very well, as well meaning and experienced as they are. I like to figure things out on my own, and I hate to admit ignorance. I really hate to admit ignorance and *gasp* ask questions about subjects I should just KNOW...like breastfeeding. It's a hang up, I deal with it by reading obsessively and having conversations (not inquisitions...my emphasis) with my friends. I thought that in a group of strangers I would be more comfortable sharing my lack of knowledge, and I would gain tips aimed at everyone there and not just suggestions aimed at me.
Wow. Are you guys learning a lot about me or what?
So, I ended up enjoying my experience a great deal. It was nice to hear about problems the moms of younger babies were having and the solutions offered by the group. Everyone helps out with suggestions and shares similar stories. It's nice to know that the process of bonding and feeding the baby is not always an automatic one, and that there can be problems, but those problems can be overcome. I also tend to push my self to be perfect,and if there are problems with my endeavors I crumble and want to just give up. I've gotten way better with this personality glitch over the course of the last couple of years...but my competitive side and my perfectionism side come out at the worst of times. I can just imagine what would happen if I didn't "get" breastfeeding right away. Without the knowledge I gained at that meeting, I would feel like a really bad mom.
I'm going back next month. There are usually four meetings in a series that cover a wide range of breastfeeding topics. I have about three more meetings before the little one arrives so I should be able to hit all the topics by his/her birth. Really, it was a good way to connect with some very nice, very supportive moms out in the community. I could see myself actually calling one of the leaders if problems come up, and heeding her advice.
I am also going to finish the book. Now that I have a better understanding of the women behind it, at least in my area, the tone and direction make more sense. They were all surprised when I shared that all my mommy friends breastfed. I guess it's not a common as I assumed it was. Which surprises me...I know it's good for the baby, but deep down in my darkest heart I'm really looking forward to that extra 500-600 calorie burn a day. Woo-hoo, I hope I have a hungry baby.
I was a bit frightened by my recent reading. Like any group that is dedicated to a goal, the rhetoric used can be...umm...off-putting. I'm a convert to their camp, I believe in what they're saying but I am no evangelist and tent revivals don't do it for me. I like calm facts, studies and proven methods. I'm not very new-age when it comes to health and nutrition. Overwrought messages and a thousand plugs for their group and products make me want to dismiss them altogether. I'm guessing I might not be the totally typical reader for this book for a couple of reasons:
First off, there has never been a question on my mind of whether or not to breastfeed. I started practicing on my dolls at the age of five...'cause that's what mommies did with babies. Being little in the Mid-West in a church culture of stay-at-home-moms makes breastfeeding really normal. Everyone did it. I didn't even know there were other options until I hit high school health. So the debate portion of baby feeding has, for the most part, passed me by.
Second, all of my mommy friends in the past 2 years have chosen to breastfeed. I have a huge support group, it's very normal with all the moms I hang with. There is no fear of being looked at weird when we get together for Saturday BBQ's and the kid gets hungry. In fact, I'll be one of two currently breastfeeding moms when our little one makes the scene. Peer pressure to feed otherwise has been left out.
Or perhaps I am the correct reader, but they are also trying to attract a wider audience; attract those women who might be on the fence. Knowing that often it takes a bold statement of purpose to get to folks who otherwise wouldn't listen to the message at all, and knowing that what actually happens with real women vs. what the ideal presented in the book is, I decided that attending a meeting was a good idea for me. After all, the women at the meeting would be real moms, from the area and I could gauge what the group was actually about.
I have the list of meetings being held in the greater South Bay area and decided upon the evening meeting. The day meetings all clashed with my school schedule. I also figured that the evening meetings would bring working moms, and I thought that they might be even more practical in their approach to La Leche and breastfeeding in general. I was nervous at first. The meetings are held in someones home and I didn't call ahead or anything, I just showed up. That was fine. I was also the only one there who didn't actually have a kid breastfeeding. That was also fine. The children there that night ranged from age one month to four years. The moms were a mix across the South Bay ethnicity scale, which I thought was great, and they ranged in age across the childbearing board as well...but the mid thirties was a good median.
The first thing the leader said was that the group was not dedicated to one standard practice, and that not all methods or suggestions worked for all moms. They were there to help you in all you breastfeeding decisions, because the ultimate goal was to raise happy, healthy breastfed children. That put me at ease right away. There have been some suggestions in the book that I was not completely comfortable with, and I was wondering how much I'd have to buy into the philosophy to participate. Why go at all, the astute reader might ask. It has to do with my "learning style". I don't take advice from people I know very well, as well meaning and experienced as they are. I like to figure things out on my own, and I hate to admit ignorance. I really hate to admit ignorance and *gasp* ask questions about subjects I should just KNOW...like breastfeeding. It's a hang up, I deal with it by reading obsessively and having conversations (not inquisitions...my emphasis) with my friends. I thought that in a group of strangers I would be more comfortable sharing my lack of knowledge, and I would gain tips aimed at everyone there and not just suggestions aimed at me.
Wow. Are you guys learning a lot about me or what?
So, I ended up enjoying my experience a great deal. It was nice to hear about problems the moms of younger babies were having and the solutions offered by the group. Everyone helps out with suggestions and shares similar stories. It's nice to know that the process of bonding and feeding the baby is not always an automatic one, and that there can be problems, but those problems can be overcome. I also tend to push my self to be perfect,and if there are problems with my endeavors I crumble and want to just give up. I've gotten way better with this personality glitch over the course of the last couple of years...but my competitive side and my perfectionism side come out at the worst of times. I can just imagine what would happen if I didn't "get" breastfeeding right away. Without the knowledge I gained at that meeting, I would feel like a really bad mom.
I'm going back next month. There are usually four meetings in a series that cover a wide range of breastfeeding topics. I have about three more meetings before the little one arrives so I should be able to hit all the topics by his/her birth. Really, it was a good way to connect with some very nice, very supportive moms out in the community. I could see myself actually calling one of the leaders if problems come up, and heeding her advice.
I am also going to finish the book. Now that I have a better understanding of the women behind it, at least in my area, the tone and direction make more sense. They were all surprised when I shared that all my mommy friends breastfed. I guess it's not a common as I assumed it was. Which surprises me...I know it's good for the baby, but deep down in my darkest heart I'm really looking forward to that extra 500-600 calorie burn a day. Woo-hoo, I hope I have a hungry baby.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
How Do Woking Mom's Do It?
I am tired. Bone dead, yawing in class, nodding off tired. I only have about three hours of scheduled time a day, and yet this seems like way too much. I am tired, and I can not sleep. I am tired, and I can not get housework done, I can barely keep my eyes open to read my assignments. I doze on the couch, but when bedtime rolls around, I can not get comfortable and I dream so very strangely that it is not refreshing.
Last night I was dreaming that I needed Hubby to buy a new hard drive for the Myth Box (our television/entertainment system) so that he could download more television for me, so I'd have something to watch when the baby arrives. Well, in my dream, he was on a business trip to Australia, and the only way we had to communicate was through a tele-text type of e-mail that was painfully slow and I had hard time typing on and reading. The situation was getting desperate...I had to have this hard drive. It then dawned on me that I was sleeping, and Hubby was right beside me. I just had to wake up and tell him to buy the hard drive, and all would well and I could sleep again. I woke up enough to debate whether or not I should wake up all the way and then wake up hubby to tell him about making this purchase for me. I ended up waking up all the way, and wondering why television had suddenly become so important to me, before going back to my toss-y turn-y state of "sleep". I did ask Hubby about the hard drive this morning, but the urgency was gone...and I don't think dreams translate as well for those IN them as for those EXPERIENCING them.
So, I'm tired, the dishwasher needs to be run, the living room is slowly moving toward its natural state of chaos and I...I am goofing off on the Internet. Because I can't sleep. At least I did finish my homework. That just required my computer and a bit of will power.
I really don't know how working mom's get through pregnancy. I could in no way handle a 9-5 job right now. My brain seems to miss-fire at every other moment and honestly, I don't know what's happening around me 70% of the time. If my second semester, the so called golden semester, is so trying...the next one is going to be all kinds of feet dragging. Yikes. Maybe I should worry less about going into labor during finals, and concentrate on simply being awake for them.
Yawn.
Last night I was dreaming that I needed Hubby to buy a new hard drive for the Myth Box (our television/entertainment system) so that he could download more television for me, so I'd have something to watch when the baby arrives. Well, in my dream, he was on a business trip to Australia, and the only way we had to communicate was through a tele-text type of e-mail that was painfully slow and I had hard time typing on and reading. The situation was getting desperate...I had to have this hard drive. It then dawned on me that I was sleeping, and Hubby was right beside me. I just had to wake up and tell him to buy the hard drive, and all would well and I could sleep again. I woke up enough to debate whether or not I should wake up all the way and then wake up hubby to tell him about making this purchase for me. I ended up waking up all the way, and wondering why television had suddenly become so important to me, before going back to my toss-y turn-y state of "sleep". I did ask Hubby about the hard drive this morning, but the urgency was gone...and I don't think dreams translate as well for those IN them as for those EXPERIENCING them.
So, I'm tired, the dishwasher needs to be run, the living room is slowly moving toward its natural state of chaos and I...I am goofing off on the Internet. Because I can't sleep. At least I did finish my homework. That just required my computer and a bit of will power.
I really don't know how working mom's get through pregnancy. I could in no way handle a 9-5 job right now. My brain seems to miss-fire at every other moment and honestly, I don't know what's happening around me 70% of the time. If my second semester, the so called golden semester, is so trying...the next one is going to be all kinds of feet dragging. Yikes. Maybe I should worry less about going into labor during finals, and concentrate on simply being awake for them.
Yawn.
Friday, February 10, 2006
New Discoveries
for Ari-Belle and Steph
Stepping out of the shower yesterday morning:
I noted my roadmap has changed
Faint silver streams
Long ago formed
End in new reddish rivers
And pools
My gentle slopes, my hills and my valleys
Once soft curves and flat plains
Rise up Mountain like
Bold firm and proud, newly formed
From beneath
The stars of my belly-once bright taunt
And spinning-stretch now to
The point of explosion
Across the dome of my new sky
Supernovas
Waiting for the birth of my new world
for Ari-Belle and Steph
Stepping out of the shower yesterday morning:
I noted my roadmap has changed
Faint silver streams
Long ago formed
End in new reddish rivers
And pools
My gentle slopes, my hills and my valleys
Once soft curves and flat plains
Rise up Mountain like
Bold firm and proud, newly formed
From beneath
The stars of my belly-once bright taunt
And spinning-stretch now to
The point of explosion
Across the dome of my new sky
Supernovas
Waiting for the birth of my new world
Sunday, February 5, 2006
New Obsessions
I have extracted a new promise from Hubby. He is to tell me the point I become too "baby weird"...I have the feeling that time is near. I am fluxing between cool and calm and an urgent need to GET STUFF DONE even though I have almost four more months to get said stuff done. Right now I have solved the diaper dilemma. Yes, it was a serious problem. The diaper discussions began before conception (I'm an early planner, usually about stuff that doesn't REALLY matter) when I just needed to know if we were going to go cloth or disposable. Well, it should be no surprise to those who know me that we came down on the cloth side of the equation. Cloth had many advantages: cost effectiveness for the husband and the old-fashioned buck the trend-ness for me. There was also a level of difficulty involved that intrigued me. Not to mention the skin and health benefits for the little one, who is sure to inherit the sensitive skin of both his/her parents.
The next step, and the one that has been interrupting my sleep as of late, is to decide on which cloth diapers to purchase. Yes, there are choices...all-in-ones, fitted, pre-folds with covers, pinned 'traditional' style, covers with snaps or Velcro, polyester, organic cotton, cotton flannel, fleece, wool...each with its own set of pros and cons and ardent followers. Then the sizing problem kicks in. Just how big will the baby be at birth? Do I need "newborn" size...good to 7 lbs, or should I start out with small? The brands don't help much; one brand’s small runs through another brand’s medium. Oh, and when does a kid hit the magical 35 lbs? I had to do some looking at average growth charts, guess how big the kid will be at birth and go from there.
After my size/weight research (if the baby weighs around 8 lbs at birth one can expect him/her to weigh about 16 lbs at six months with steady, predictable amounts between those two points) I have now made a chart of everything I will be buying sometime within the next two months. My chart started out in Word as a simple list and grew into a table and by the time Hubby spied it, he asked why I hadn’t done a spreadsheet in Excel. Yeah…I should have. My chart has the uses for each piece of my “system” (as cloth diaper choices are called once they are combined to the users liking), it lists the sizes, the amounts to buy and the prices from the website I have decided to order this lot from. Hopefully my list will get us through at least the first six months of life. Hopefully, because the upfront cost of cloth can be intimidating. I’m not going for the most expensive all-in-one system that is the closest to using disposables, but neither am I going for the least expensive one-giant-piece-of-cloth diapers either. I’ve chosen a happy medium combination of fitted (shaped diapers with closures, I’m going with Velcro) and pre-folds (pre-folded and sized squares of absorbent cloth to be used with a cover that has self closures) with various cover options for day, night and babysitters.
After the first six months, it should be easier to adjust for the size and shape of the baby and by then the diapers fit for a larger pound range. I am concerned now that I might not have ordered enough…but I am controlling my urge to over-shop until I know exactly what I am getting into. Plus…one of the reasons we’re going cloth is that they are washable. I shouldn’t need to have a stockpile large enough for a baby army.
Now for the first crazy part. Because newborns outgrow some cloth sizes so fast, I have decided to sew my own newborn/small diapers to save on some money. I’m going to sew my own fitted, padded and self-closing diapers. With some help from my mom, of course. I have a pattern, I have a website with suggestions and pictures, I have yards of cute flannel. I now need an afternoon to cut, serge and stitch a cache of about 20 tiny diapers. I have this need to sew diapers. It’s driving me mad. To control the itch until I can get on mom’s Serger, I am contenting myself by making deluxe baby wipes.
This is crazed mom part two. After looking at the actual diapers, it was time to look at the accessories. Why use disposable wipes if you’re using cloth diapers? They all wash together. So, I’m poking around and find the deluxe wipes. Yeah baby. One side is workhorse terry cloth and the other is soft, smooth flannel. The terry side of the wipe is for scrubbing pooh and the flannel side for smoothing the baby bum and quick pee clean-ups. Sounds good to me. Only if I purchased the recommended amount, I’d be dropping another $55.00 on wipes. That didn’t make sense. I can sew. I can sew squares. I can sew squares cheaper than $1.60 a piece. Off to the fabric store I go again to purchase two yards of terry and two of flannel. This is after I did the yield calculations to find out how many wipes I’d get from each yard of fabric. My original thought was I’d need about four yards each. I’m glad I did the numbers, because yesterday I cut 64 beautiful squares of each fabric. I’m getting 1/3 more wipes for half the price. And some work. I am now feeling a bit daunted by the large stack of squares that need to be sewn. But at this point, I am committed. I figure if I can sew 10-15 a night, I’ll be done in a week. That’s fine with me. It should, if nothing else, keep me from starting in on yet another crazed mommy project.
Or I just might find out all about the alternate meaning of “committed”.
I have extracted a new promise from Hubby. He is to tell me the point I become too "baby weird"...I have the feeling that time is near. I am fluxing between cool and calm and an urgent need to GET STUFF DONE even though I have almost four more months to get said stuff done. Right now I have solved the diaper dilemma. Yes, it was a serious problem. The diaper discussions began before conception (I'm an early planner, usually about stuff that doesn't REALLY matter) when I just needed to know if we were going to go cloth or disposable. Well, it should be no surprise to those who know me that we came down on the cloth side of the equation. Cloth had many advantages: cost effectiveness for the husband and the old-fashioned buck the trend-ness for me. There was also a level of difficulty involved that intrigued me. Not to mention the skin and health benefits for the little one, who is sure to inherit the sensitive skin of both his/her parents.
The next step, and the one that has been interrupting my sleep as of late, is to decide on which cloth diapers to purchase. Yes, there are choices...all-in-ones, fitted, pre-folds with covers, pinned 'traditional' style, covers with snaps or Velcro, polyester, organic cotton, cotton flannel, fleece, wool...each with its own set of pros and cons and ardent followers. Then the sizing problem kicks in. Just how big will the baby be at birth? Do I need "newborn" size...good to 7 lbs, or should I start out with small? The brands don't help much; one brand’s small runs through another brand’s medium. Oh, and when does a kid hit the magical 35 lbs? I had to do some looking at average growth charts, guess how big the kid will be at birth and go from there.
After my size/weight research (if the baby weighs around 8 lbs at birth one can expect him/her to weigh about 16 lbs at six months with steady, predictable amounts between those two points) I have now made a chart of everything I will be buying sometime within the next two months. My chart started out in Word as a simple list and grew into a table and by the time Hubby spied it, he asked why I hadn’t done a spreadsheet in Excel. Yeah…I should have. My chart has the uses for each piece of my “system” (as cloth diaper choices are called once they are combined to the users liking), it lists the sizes, the amounts to buy and the prices from the website I have decided to order this lot from. Hopefully my list will get us through at least the first six months of life. Hopefully, because the upfront cost of cloth can be intimidating. I’m not going for the most expensive all-in-one system that is the closest to using disposables, but neither am I going for the least expensive one-giant-piece-of-cloth diapers either. I’ve chosen a happy medium combination of fitted (shaped diapers with closures, I’m going with Velcro) and pre-folds (pre-folded and sized squares of absorbent cloth to be used with a cover that has self closures) with various cover options for day, night and babysitters.
After the first six months, it should be easier to adjust for the size and shape of the baby and by then the diapers fit for a larger pound range. I am concerned now that I might not have ordered enough…but I am controlling my urge to over-shop until I know exactly what I am getting into. Plus…one of the reasons we’re going cloth is that they are washable. I shouldn’t need to have a stockpile large enough for a baby army.
Now for the first crazy part. Because newborns outgrow some cloth sizes so fast, I have decided to sew my own newborn/small diapers to save on some money. I’m going to sew my own fitted, padded and self-closing diapers. With some help from my mom, of course. I have a pattern, I have a website with suggestions and pictures, I have yards of cute flannel. I now need an afternoon to cut, serge and stitch a cache of about 20 tiny diapers. I have this need to sew diapers. It’s driving me mad. To control the itch until I can get on mom’s Serger, I am contenting myself by making deluxe baby wipes.
This is crazed mom part two. After looking at the actual diapers, it was time to look at the accessories. Why use disposable wipes if you’re using cloth diapers? They all wash together. So, I’m poking around and find the deluxe wipes. Yeah baby. One side is workhorse terry cloth and the other is soft, smooth flannel. The terry side of the wipe is for scrubbing pooh and the flannel side for smoothing the baby bum and quick pee clean-ups. Sounds good to me. Only if I purchased the recommended amount, I’d be dropping another $55.00 on wipes. That didn’t make sense. I can sew. I can sew squares. I can sew squares cheaper than $1.60 a piece. Off to the fabric store I go again to purchase two yards of terry and two of flannel. This is after I did the yield calculations to find out how many wipes I’d get from each yard of fabric. My original thought was I’d need about four yards each. I’m glad I did the numbers, because yesterday I cut 64 beautiful squares of each fabric. I’m getting 1/3 more wipes for half the price. And some work. I am now feeling a bit daunted by the large stack of squares that need to be sewn. But at this point, I am committed. I figure if I can sew 10-15 a night, I’ll be done in a week. That’s fine with me. It should, if nothing else, keep me from starting in on yet another crazed mommy project.
Or I just might find out all about the alternate meaning of “committed”.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Week In Review
Yes, I know it's only Tuesday, but the week I speak of is last week. It was the first week of classes and everyone knows how fun that can be. I did have one new experience, I needed to add a class. Why should that be so hard, one might ask. Well...the answer would be: too many bodies, not enough room. The class I wanted to add was so full that students were sitting on the floor, trying to get in. I sat in the hallway and waited for the end of class to speak with the instructor. She didn't have much hope, but maybe the desperation in my eyes, or my general "I'm a good student and you'll love having me in class" vibe, paid off. I was told to e-mail her and keep showing up. Perhaps she'd find some room for me.
The rest of the scheduled week was great. I'm in a production class for writers. We'll be putting out both a newsletter for the English Department and a compilation of writing for the class. I'm hoping to get some good experience in this class for future freelance work. We'll be covering all kinds of styles from the genre of creative non-fiction. It's exactly what I need. Yeah! My goal for the year that I'm doing "baby life" is to get my feet wet in the freelance world. I'm going to start with trade magazines for the restaurant industry. I've read that trade work is good work, and I would be qualified to write for them. And all you mom's out there...please don't laugh. I know I'm going to be too busy to do anything but baby life, but jeez, I have to have another project on the burner or I don't feel like I'm doing enough. It is just my way.
So...I am excited about this semester. I did get in to the really full class yesterday, so, Yeah! Food and Culture! I am going to the fun class this afternoon to see what project and production assignment I will be concentrating on this semester. Right now I have to finish up a little piece of Beowulf and do some binder organization. Woo-hoo. I love being in school.
Oh! Happy 22 weeks to baby today. Please keep your fingers crossed for a full 40 week pregnancy. I have finals during week 37-38. I know. But I like to live on the edge.
Yes, I know it's only Tuesday, but the week I speak of is last week. It was the first week of classes and everyone knows how fun that can be. I did have one new experience, I needed to add a class. Why should that be so hard, one might ask. Well...the answer would be: too many bodies, not enough room. The class I wanted to add was so full that students were sitting on the floor, trying to get in. I sat in the hallway and waited for the end of class to speak with the instructor. She didn't have much hope, but maybe the desperation in my eyes, or my general "I'm a good student and you'll love having me in class" vibe, paid off. I was told to e-mail her and keep showing up. Perhaps she'd find some room for me.
The rest of the scheduled week was great. I'm in a production class for writers. We'll be putting out both a newsletter for the English Department and a compilation of writing for the class. I'm hoping to get some good experience in this class for future freelance work. We'll be covering all kinds of styles from the genre of creative non-fiction. It's exactly what I need. Yeah! My goal for the year that I'm doing "baby life" is to get my feet wet in the freelance world. I'm going to start with trade magazines for the restaurant industry. I've read that trade work is good work, and I would be qualified to write for them. And all you mom's out there...please don't laugh. I know I'm going to be too busy to do anything but baby life, but jeez, I have to have another project on the burner or I don't feel like I'm doing enough. It is just my way.
So...I am excited about this semester. I did get in to the really full class yesterday, so, Yeah! Food and Culture! I am going to the fun class this afternoon to see what project and production assignment I will be concentrating on this semester. Right now I have to finish up a little piece of Beowulf and do some binder organization. Woo-hoo. I love being in school.
Oh! Happy 22 weeks to baby today. Please keep your fingers crossed for a full 40 week pregnancy. I have finals during week 37-38. I know. But I like to live on the edge.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
*Note* My mom sent out an e-mail last week encouraging a laundry list of friends, children, and relatives to share an ordinary day with each other. She sees it an an interesting "slice of life" experiment. So far I've enjoyed reading about other's "normal" days. I wrote up mine and decided to share it on my blog, as well as sending it back with my mom's original e-mail. I figure my blog is pretty much the chronicle of my ordinary days...but it doesn't usually distill down entire days. Here it is, and I hope this encourages others to share their ordinary and normal days with me.
My “Normal” Day
I have to begin this by stating that I don’t really have any “normal” days…right now. I am blissfully between semesters and lucky enough to not be working. That leaves me a lot of time to myself, and I am enjoying it. Right before the holidays, I was busy shopping, cleaning, cooking and the like…right now I wish all of my days were like this:
Monday January 23, 2006
I woke up right before the 8:00 AM alarm and spent some time just dozing. When the radio turned on, I just listened to the morning show…the new one on Live 105. It’s not bad, kind of juvenile, but hey, they do play music. The latest song from Matisyahu, the Hasidic reggae star (for some reason I see Mom getting a kick out of that) came on and I thought about how annoying reggae is in the morning. Then I ruminated on how I just really don’t dig reggae music. Give me some good roots rock and ska or rock steady…I’m there. Whatever. Mind you, this is coming from the girl going to Jamaica next year.
Finally managed to pull myself out of bed at 10:00 AM. Yeah. I spent almost two hours listening to the radio, chatting with Hubby, and being a complete slug-a-bed. I am truly going to miss this when my 9:00 AM class starts up Wednesday. I ate breakfast. It was a big bowl of Kashi Good Friends cereal. I have eaten more cereal in the past few months than I have in the past few years. Something about the crunchy sweet-ish cereal and colds milk…yum. Good food for baby, we both like it. Hubby took off for work and little sis made an appearance. She was planning on running errands and taking a placement test at her new school. I needed to: finish cleaning the kitchen and living room from Mom’s fab-o dinner party the night before, wash the tablecloth and napkins, move the table, run to Good Will, clean out my backpack, get school supplies ready and repair some chair cushions on the chairs we are going to be selling on Craig’s List.
All right. So, I began by running the dishwasher. Then sitting down to the Internet to check e-mail. Then I painted my stapler with sparkle nail polish to create a unique sparkly stapler. It’s really cute. I cleaned out the backpack and re-organized my supplies. I have four yellow barrel number two pencils, four back up black ink medium point click-y pens, plus the one Dr. Grip pen that I love to death. I made a note on my school-shopping list to pick up some refills for the Dr. Grip. I have all my multi-colored Sharpies: little keychain ones key chained to the inner backpack pocket and big ones in the hidden zipper pouch in the top of the backpack. I’m not sure exactly why I need Sharpies…I just do. I have my highlighters at the ready; I have my Post-It flag highlighters at the ready…made a note to pick up some plain Post-It flags for noting important pieces of text. One can never have too many flags of various colors. I have my red editing pencils. They might come in handy for my Career Writing class. Then things got really fun. I color-coordinated my notebooks to my pocket folders and labeled them for my classes with the corresponding Sharpie color. Yellow is for Food & Culture, red is Career Writing, green is for English Lit and black for Astronomy. All notebooks and folders have labels with the class name and days of the week I have the class. It makes getting ready and out the door to class in the morning so much eaiser.
And…the morning was burning by now. It was noon…Hubby called to ask me to mail some books off. We have been selling my old textbooks on Half.com. We’ve done really well this semester. In fact, we’ve almost covered the cost of the current semester books by the selling of past semester books. I like it. Back to the computer for me, where I was promptly sidetracked from my mission by blog reading. I have my daily blog check: Confessions of a Restroom Attendant, Soy Mama, Manic Mom, the communal ummmm blog, chronicles of the existence of divine comestibles, the Garden of Insanity…these are the ones I check, if not every day, then on a regular basis. Oh, I also check my own for comments. I know, kind of sad, but sometimes they pop up and I get happy. I don’t often post on other’s blog’s, so I don’t get too down when I don’t get posts on mine. I digress. I also checked on a Due in June message board at iParenting.com. Message boards are really the same. This one was full of It’s a Boy! and It’s A Girl! posts…’cause all the mommies are getting the 18-22 week ultrasound done, and most everyone in the normal universe finds out the baby’s sex before hand. Well, Hubby and I are different…we don’t know and don’t want to know. I like to think of it as a reward for all the hard work of labor…the announcement that Dr. D will make as soon as the little one pops out. I like having surprises to look forward to.
So, another hour down, I decide to eat some lunch before heading to the Post Office. I have leftover salad, artichokes with garlic and lemon, and crackers with olive spread. I read a couple chapters of “Guns, Germs, and Steel” while eating. I am so loving this book. It is really a fascinating way of looking at human development. I just finished agriculture and am well into the domestication of animals for food and labor. Wild stuff. Finish lunch up, package the books and decide to wear slippers to the Post Office, cause I don’t feel like putting on shoes. Right. Mail the books; realize I have forgotten to bring the Good Will donations with me, so oh well, that won’t get done today.
By the time I get back, it’s three o’clock and I have yet to clean or do anything significant. I debate on whether to take a nap or not. I decide not to, and instead do my nails. Hey, that’s important. I clean up nail stuff, clean up the living room and begin to think about cleaning the kitchen. Yeah right. Instead I make a bunch of music play lists on our home stereo set up. The Myth Box takes too long to explain…so I’m going to skip it. I will mention, Hubby taught me how to make play lists the day before and I have been very excited to do so. It’s fun making hours…nay…days of music to play that suit whatever mood I happen to be in. Little sis comes in and goes over her day with me…but this is my day so she’ll have to write her own. I decide that it’s time to nap…sleep past the yoga class I was going to take, get up and need to clean the kitchen. Cheery little sister pitches in and in no time at all, it sparkles. She did the laundry, dried dishes, put the weird serving platters-in their puzzle like configurations-away and generally was a huge help. I’m going to miss her when she’s gone.
By this time, dinner needed to be made. Stir-fry to the rescue! Put on some brown rice, sliced some lean pork and tossed in a bag of Trader Ming’s (Joe’s) Asian veggies and volia! Dinner was ready. Now if only Hubby was home…he got there around 7:45, put on Desperate Housewives and we ate and chuckled and ate and enjoyed the evening. Little sis took off to visit her boyfriend, and Hubby and I finished the evening by watching “Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels”. Neither of us had seen it in some time, and it was so very funny. That’s a movie that can be enjoyed over and over again. 11:00 PM showed up…time to gag down an absolutely awful pre-natal vitamin (yup…I have to refill my chewable prescription…another thing I forgot to do) and brush teeth in preparation for bed. We then snuggled down with the cats, which is a very rare occurrence in our house. The cats are not usually allowed to sleep with us…they get restless, we wake up…they start to jump on our heads…we toss them out. It’s better to just let them have the house to themselves at night. Little Violet was being a snuggle kitty and slept on me all night. I can’t complain, it was pretty nice and kept me from tossing and turning, I didn’t want to wake her up.
That’s it. That was my normal day…when not in school. When I have a schedule the days become much more…well…structured. I have the feeling though, my days will not be quite as relaxed and opened-ended in the very near future. At least not until the kids are grown and I can “retire” again…
Much love,
Valerie
01.24.06
My “Normal” Day
I have to begin this by stating that I don’t really have any “normal” days…right now. I am blissfully between semesters and lucky enough to not be working. That leaves me a lot of time to myself, and I am enjoying it. Right before the holidays, I was busy shopping, cleaning, cooking and the like…right now I wish all of my days were like this:
Monday January 23, 2006
I woke up right before the 8:00 AM alarm and spent some time just dozing. When the radio turned on, I just listened to the morning show…the new one on Live 105. It’s not bad, kind of juvenile, but hey, they do play music. The latest song from Matisyahu, the Hasidic reggae star (for some reason I see Mom getting a kick out of that) came on and I thought about how annoying reggae is in the morning. Then I ruminated on how I just really don’t dig reggae music. Give me some good roots rock and ska or rock steady…I’m there. Whatever. Mind you, this is coming from the girl going to Jamaica next year.
Finally managed to pull myself out of bed at 10:00 AM. Yeah. I spent almost two hours listening to the radio, chatting with Hubby, and being a complete slug-a-bed. I am truly going to miss this when my 9:00 AM class starts up Wednesday. I ate breakfast. It was a big bowl of Kashi Good Friends cereal. I have eaten more cereal in the past few months than I have in the past few years. Something about the crunchy sweet-ish cereal and colds milk…yum. Good food for baby, we both like it. Hubby took off for work and little sis made an appearance. She was planning on running errands and taking a placement test at her new school. I needed to: finish cleaning the kitchen and living room from Mom’s fab-o dinner party the night before, wash the tablecloth and napkins, move the table, run to Good Will, clean out my backpack, get school supplies ready and repair some chair cushions on the chairs we are going to be selling on Craig’s List.
All right. So, I began by running the dishwasher. Then sitting down to the Internet to check e-mail. Then I painted my stapler with sparkle nail polish to create a unique sparkly stapler. It’s really cute. I cleaned out the backpack and re-organized my supplies. I have four yellow barrel number two pencils, four back up black ink medium point click-y pens, plus the one Dr. Grip pen that I love to death. I made a note on my school-shopping list to pick up some refills for the Dr. Grip. I have all my multi-colored Sharpies: little keychain ones key chained to the inner backpack pocket and big ones in the hidden zipper pouch in the top of the backpack. I’m not sure exactly why I need Sharpies…I just do. I have my highlighters at the ready; I have my Post-It flag highlighters at the ready…made a note to pick up some plain Post-It flags for noting important pieces of text. One can never have too many flags of various colors. I have my red editing pencils. They might come in handy for my Career Writing class. Then things got really fun. I color-coordinated my notebooks to my pocket folders and labeled them for my classes with the corresponding Sharpie color. Yellow is for Food & Culture, red is Career Writing, green is for English Lit and black for Astronomy. All notebooks and folders have labels with the class name and days of the week I have the class. It makes getting ready and out the door to class in the morning so much eaiser.
And…the morning was burning by now. It was noon…Hubby called to ask me to mail some books off. We have been selling my old textbooks on Half.com. We’ve done really well this semester. In fact, we’ve almost covered the cost of the current semester books by the selling of past semester books. I like it. Back to the computer for me, where I was promptly sidetracked from my mission by blog reading. I have my daily blog check: Confessions of a Restroom Attendant, Soy Mama, Manic Mom, the communal ummmm blog, chronicles of the existence of divine comestibles, the Garden of Insanity…these are the ones I check, if not every day, then on a regular basis. Oh, I also check my own for comments. I know, kind of sad, but sometimes they pop up and I get happy. I don’t often post on other’s blog’s, so I don’t get too down when I don’t get posts on mine. I digress. I also checked on a Due in June message board at iParenting.com. Message boards are really the same. This one was full of It’s a Boy! and It’s A Girl! posts…’cause all the mommies are getting the 18-22 week ultrasound done, and most everyone in the normal universe finds out the baby’s sex before hand. Well, Hubby and I are different…we don’t know and don’t want to know. I like to think of it as a reward for all the hard work of labor…the announcement that Dr. D will make as soon as the little one pops out. I like having surprises to look forward to.
So, another hour down, I decide to eat some lunch before heading to the Post Office. I have leftover salad, artichokes with garlic and lemon, and crackers with olive spread. I read a couple chapters of “Guns, Germs, and Steel” while eating. I am so loving this book. It is really a fascinating way of looking at human development. I just finished agriculture and am well into the domestication of animals for food and labor. Wild stuff. Finish lunch up, package the books and decide to wear slippers to the Post Office, cause I don’t feel like putting on shoes. Right. Mail the books; realize I have forgotten to bring the Good Will donations with me, so oh well, that won’t get done today.
By the time I get back, it’s three o’clock and I have yet to clean or do anything significant. I debate on whether to take a nap or not. I decide not to, and instead do my nails. Hey, that’s important. I clean up nail stuff, clean up the living room and begin to think about cleaning the kitchen. Yeah right. Instead I make a bunch of music play lists on our home stereo set up. The Myth Box takes too long to explain…so I’m going to skip it. I will mention, Hubby taught me how to make play lists the day before and I have been very excited to do so. It’s fun making hours…nay…days of music to play that suit whatever mood I happen to be in. Little sis comes in and goes over her day with me…but this is my day so she’ll have to write her own. I decide that it’s time to nap…sleep past the yoga class I was going to take, get up and need to clean the kitchen. Cheery little sister pitches in and in no time at all, it sparkles. She did the laundry, dried dishes, put the weird serving platters-in their puzzle like configurations-away and generally was a huge help. I’m going to miss her when she’s gone.
By this time, dinner needed to be made. Stir-fry to the rescue! Put on some brown rice, sliced some lean pork and tossed in a bag of Trader Ming’s (Joe’s) Asian veggies and volia! Dinner was ready. Now if only Hubby was home…he got there around 7:45, put on Desperate Housewives and we ate and chuckled and ate and enjoyed the evening. Little sis took off to visit her boyfriend, and Hubby and I finished the evening by watching “Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels”. Neither of us had seen it in some time, and it was so very funny. That’s a movie that can be enjoyed over and over again. 11:00 PM showed up…time to gag down an absolutely awful pre-natal vitamin (yup…I have to refill my chewable prescription…another thing I forgot to do) and brush teeth in preparation for bed. We then snuggled down with the cats, which is a very rare occurrence in our house. The cats are not usually allowed to sleep with us…they get restless, we wake up…they start to jump on our heads…we toss them out. It’s better to just let them have the house to themselves at night. Little Violet was being a snuggle kitty and slept on me all night. I can’t complain, it was pretty nice and kept me from tossing and turning, I didn’t want to wake her up.
That’s it. That was my normal day…when not in school. When I have a schedule the days become much more…well…structured. I have the feeling though, my days will not be quite as relaxed and opened-ended in the very near future. At least not until the kids are grown and I can “retire” again…
Much love,
Valerie
01.24.06
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
