Friday, October 30, 2009
I have a blog?
Oh my, 6 weeks of no blogging and, what? The world didn't end? Do tell...
The din increased in population by 1 on September 30th - sweet, dark-haired, blue-eyed L entered the world at 10:04pm, after 13 hours of relatively smooth, amazing and sometimes hard labor. His birth transformed me, and he is a dream come true, the answer to years of desperate prayers for another baby. That pretty much says it all.
I'm 4 weeks into 12 of maternity leave, and some days I feel it's too fleeting, while other days I want to get back to the familiar routine of work. Of course, all bets are off even when I do return to work - we've got a whole new normal, and I can't even guess yet what that will look like. For now, I'm enjoying being available to my month-old babe all the time, and have liked being with The H on a full-time basis, too. He and I haven't spent so much continuous time together in, well, ever. I worked from home for two weeks before L's birth, so I've had six weeks at home with my stay-at-home man, with not much time apart, and I've only wanted to kick him in the shins a couple of times. That's a pretty good record.
The return to parenting an infant after six years has been both like riding a bicycle and like baptism by fire. Most things have returned to me easily - breastfeeding had a few bumps at the beginning, but L's a great nurser for the most part and I love being able to have that special bond with him. Diapering, dressing and bathing a new baby - also easy to remember, although I realized how long it had been since I had to navigate all those tiny creases. The crying, though... I think there's a part of the parental memory that enables us to quickly forget (and forgive?) all the crying, because in the moment, it's certainly easy to start thinking your head will explode. And I've had my share of those moments. L has had a few weeks of fussiness in the evenings - meaning, L spends several hours marathon nursing, then crying, dozing, crying some more (and some more), before finally going to sleep somewhere in the midnight to 1am ballpark. The payoff is that he generally then sleeps for 8-10 hours. Straight. It's a gift that I'm getting some good sleep most nights, and was able to start feeling human again pretty quickly.
Most amazing has been the outpouring of love from our friends and neighbors. We've had dinner brought over every weeknight for the entire month, and people have been so good to check in on us and encourage us. It helps us to not feel isolated and cooped up with a newborn.
The H and I are still in a little disbelief that we're heading down this road again, that our offspring are now referred to in the plural. I admit it, we like to say "the kids" and then giggle a little. After the disappointment of three years of miscarriages and infertility, we had finally surrendered the desire to have more children. So my pregnancy was a stunner, and L's life is truly miraculous, and a testament to the greater mystery of God's provision. I'm so excited to have him in our family, no matter what his arrival requires of us, or how it changes us.
Oh my, 6 weeks of no blogging and, what? The world didn't end? Do tell...
The din increased in population by 1 on September 30th - sweet, dark-haired, blue-eyed L entered the world at 10:04pm, after 13 hours of relatively smooth, amazing and sometimes hard labor. His birth transformed me, and he is a dream come true, the answer to years of desperate prayers for another baby. That pretty much says it all.
I'm 4 weeks into 12 of maternity leave, and some days I feel it's too fleeting, while other days I want to get back to the familiar routine of work. Of course, all bets are off even when I do return to work - we've got a whole new normal, and I can't even guess yet what that will look like. For now, I'm enjoying being available to my month-old babe all the time, and have liked being with The H on a full-time basis, too. He and I haven't spent so much continuous time together in, well, ever. I worked from home for two weeks before L's birth, so I've had six weeks at home with my stay-at-home man, with not much time apart, and I've only wanted to kick him in the shins a couple of times. That's a pretty good record.
The return to parenting an infant after six years has been both like riding a bicycle and like baptism by fire. Most things have returned to me easily - breastfeeding had a few bumps at the beginning, but L's a great nurser for the most part and I love being able to have that special bond with him. Diapering, dressing and bathing a new baby - also easy to remember, although I realized how long it had been since I had to navigate all those tiny creases. The crying, though... I think there's a part of the parental memory that enables us to quickly forget (and forgive?) all the crying, because in the moment, it's certainly easy to start thinking your head will explode. And I've had my share of those moments. L has had a few weeks of fussiness in the evenings - meaning, L spends several hours marathon nursing, then crying, dozing, crying some more (and some more), before finally going to sleep somewhere in the midnight to 1am ballpark. The payoff is that he generally then sleeps for 8-10 hours. Straight. It's a gift that I'm getting some good sleep most nights, and was able to start feeling human again pretty quickly.
Most amazing has been the outpouring of love from our friends and neighbors. We've had dinner brought over every weeknight for the entire month, and people have been so good to check in on us and encourage us. It helps us to not feel isolated and cooped up with a newborn.
The H and I are still in a little disbelief that we're heading down this road again, that our offspring are now referred to in the plural. I admit it, we like to say "the kids" and then giggle a little. After the disappointment of three years of miscarriages and infertility, we had finally surrendered the desire to have more children. So my pregnancy was a stunner, and L's life is truly miraculous, and a testament to the greater mystery of God's provision. I'm so excited to have him in our family, no matter what his arrival requires of us, or how it changes us.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
absentee
Well, there's just no good excuse this time. Except for maybe that the last month of a pregnancy has an odd way of feeling like 10, and it's been a very long few weeks. We're still eagerly awaiting the boy's arrival (he's "due" tomorrow but, just like all things related to pregnancy, it's very subjective), but I am now working from home until I deliver (thanks, God, for the most understanding boss on the planet), which has greatly decreased the anxiety of waiting.
Oddly enough (or maybe it makes perfect sense), that's been pretty much the sum of the days around the din. Can't really make plans that involve going more than an hour from home, because "What if...". Don't have much energy to be with folks outside our normal day-to-day, partly because I'm too tired of knee-jerk dummy remarks about my size/shape/due date, partly because I just want to conserve my energy and enjoy being with the people closest to us. The social engagements can wait.
The H and I are also feeling lucky to have some nice time together while prior to welcoming baby. He's cranking out projects in a flurry of activity (K's got a really great art & rec room shaping up in the basement...I'm secretly jealous of her soon-to-be-ready getaway space), and we're enjoying the freedom to take the days nice and easy while K's at school. It'll be changing soon enough!
Well, there's just no good excuse this time. Except for maybe that the last month of a pregnancy has an odd way of feeling like 10, and it's been a very long few weeks. We're still eagerly awaiting the boy's arrival (he's "due" tomorrow but, just like all things related to pregnancy, it's very subjective), but I am now working from home until I deliver (thanks, God, for the most understanding boss on the planet), which has greatly decreased the anxiety of waiting.
Oddly enough (or maybe it makes perfect sense), that's been pretty much the sum of the days around the din. Can't really make plans that involve going more than an hour from home, because "What if...". Don't have much energy to be with folks outside our normal day-to-day, partly because I'm too tired of knee-jerk dummy remarks about my size/shape/due date, partly because I just want to conserve my energy and enjoy being with the people closest to us. The social engagements can wait.
The H and I are also feeling lucky to have some nice time together while prior to welcoming baby. He's cranking out projects in a flurry of activity (K's got a really great art & rec room shaping up in the basement...I'm secretly jealous of her soon-to-be-ready getaway space), and we're enjoying the freedom to take the days nice and easy while K's at school. It'll be changing soon enough!
Monday, August 31, 2009
tweet tweet
Wow, do I feel like some kind of mama bird, feathering the nest all weekend. With just 2-1/2 weeks to go before the little man's due date, The H and I worked our tail feathers off over the weekend.
He's been working diligently all summer on myriad projects around the house, and this weekend was no exception. For my own part, I put together baby furniture, got changing tables ready and clothes unpacked, brought up my suitcase to start pre-pre-packing (hey, I'm a planner, what can I say), and generally tried to just pace myself to not overdo it.
Folks have been curious about how we're progressing towards the blessed arrival, and the best I can tell is that we're moving along. At my check-up last week, we had an ultrasound to guesstimate size - a standard protocol for patients planning for VBAC. Ironically, fetal weight estimates come with a 1-pound margin of error which, for a baby, is like a 20-pound margin of error for you and me. So, they're not terribly reliable, but at least a stab at a ballpark figure. Thankfully, my doctor is realistic about those estimates. As of last Wednesday, the boy was estimated at 7lbs 14oz - or, somewhere between 7 and 9 pounds. He was also oblique, or laying with his head around 4:00, so there's been lots of resting in positions that have hopefully helped to encourage him to turn for the exit, and lots of vocal and mental encouragement with the same sentiments.
I'm feeling pretty good overall. Sleep is more interrupted and I'm battling some pretty nasty nausea lately, but I really can't complain. It's been the perfect summer, weather-wise, for being pregnant, and I've been so fortunate to be surrounded by a lot of love and support, and wise women who have empowered and encouraged me tremendously. I'm also immensely thankful that my own sister is expecting, so we've had this truly special shared experience as we compare notes and are able to laugh at ourselves in our "expanded" state.
Being the planner that I am, the last few weeks are really the hardest part, especially since I'm still working. I don't want to forfeit a single day of my leave of absence from work, so as much as I'd like to be at home nesting, I just keep plugging away at work, trying to be productive and yet not leave too many things open-ended, since we don't know when I'll be going out. My joke is that I'd feel much better if my son could just give me a date to aim for. Me and my need for closure...don't think the world will ever accommodate it, but I keep hoping.
So, thanks for continuing to drift by the Din, in spite of my intermittent absences the last couple of months. If we're acquainted on that certain social networking site, you'll find more frequent updates there. If you're Din-bound, I'll be making a better effort once we're settled in after the little man's arrival. Promise.
Wow, do I feel like some kind of mama bird, feathering the nest all weekend. With just 2-1/2 weeks to go before the little man's due date, The H and I worked our tail feathers off over the weekend.
He's been working diligently all summer on myriad projects around the house, and this weekend was no exception. For my own part, I put together baby furniture, got changing tables ready and clothes unpacked, brought up my suitcase to start pre-pre-packing (hey, I'm a planner, what can I say), and generally tried to just pace myself to not overdo it.
Folks have been curious about how we're progressing towards the blessed arrival, and the best I can tell is that we're moving along. At my check-up last week, we had an ultrasound to guesstimate size - a standard protocol for patients planning for VBAC. Ironically, fetal weight estimates come with a 1-pound margin of error which, for a baby, is like a 20-pound margin of error for you and me. So, they're not terribly reliable, but at least a stab at a ballpark figure. Thankfully, my doctor is realistic about those estimates. As of last Wednesday, the boy was estimated at 7lbs 14oz - or, somewhere between 7 and 9 pounds. He was also oblique, or laying with his head around 4:00, so there's been lots of resting in positions that have hopefully helped to encourage him to turn for the exit, and lots of vocal and mental encouragement with the same sentiments.
I'm feeling pretty good overall. Sleep is more interrupted and I'm battling some pretty nasty nausea lately, but I really can't complain. It's been the perfect summer, weather-wise, for being pregnant, and I've been so fortunate to be surrounded by a lot of love and support, and wise women who have empowered and encouraged me tremendously. I'm also immensely thankful that my own sister is expecting, so we've had this truly special shared experience as we compare notes and are able to laugh at ourselves in our "expanded" state.
Being the planner that I am, the last few weeks are really the hardest part, especially since I'm still working. I don't want to forfeit a single day of my leave of absence from work, so as much as I'd like to be at home nesting, I just keep plugging away at work, trying to be productive and yet not leave too many things open-ended, since we don't know when I'll be going out. My joke is that I'd feel much better if my son could just give me a date to aim for. Me and my need for closure...don't think the world will ever accommodate it, but I keep hoping.
So, thanks for continuing to drift by the Din, in spite of my intermittent absences the last couple of months. If we're acquainted on that certain social networking site, you'll find more frequent updates there. If you're Din-bound, I'll be making a better effort once we're settled in after the little man's arrival. Promise.
Friday, August 14, 2009
going back
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little glad that school starts next week. K has been restless (i.e. prone to meltdowns, excessive whining, you name it) for the past month, and I chalk it up - at least in part - to summer having run its course. All the fun has been eked out of the summer break. I am hopeful that the return to a structured day and interaction with peers will find her less of a short fuse and more engaged. All I know is, nearly every evening of late has become a whine-a-thon, and this mama is at the limit.
Just a little side thought - I really like the StoryCorps series on NPR. Today I heard a segment with two brothers, recounting a story from the Vietnam War years. The best part was hearing these senior citizens tell each other "You're my guy, and I love you". There's so much drama in relationships today - of the seen and unseen varieties - so it's great to hear people who can openly relate to and love each other. It gives me hope.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little glad that school starts next week. K has been restless (i.e. prone to meltdowns, excessive whining, you name it) for the past month, and I chalk it up - at least in part - to summer having run its course. All the fun has been eked out of the summer break. I am hopeful that the return to a structured day and interaction with peers will find her less of a short fuse and more engaged. All I know is, nearly every evening of late has become a whine-a-thon, and this mama is at the limit.
Just a little side thought - I really like the StoryCorps series on NPR. Today I heard a segment with two brothers, recounting a story from the Vietnam War years. The best part was hearing these senior citizens tell each other "You're my guy, and I love you". There's so much drama in relationships today - of the seen and unseen varieties - so it's great to hear people who can openly relate to and love each other. It gives me hope.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
all-consuming
I know it's probably getting pretty predictable around here, but what can I say...by the last weeks of pregnancy, there's little else on an expectant woman's mind. It's amazing, the lengths a body can withstand for the sake of growing a life, and it takes a toll. At this stage of things, every moment of the day packs a big punch. The short list includes fun things like:
sleep deprivation
loose joints and aching muscles
scatter-brained tendencies
hormonal surges that can provoke mood swings
the ever-expanding abdomen
heartburn
nausea
feeling super conspicuous
unsolicited observations (more like Tourette's outbursts) about the size of your body from others (and fyi - these are essentially an overstatement of the obvious, of no help whatsoever, and, unless initiated by the mama, really should be kept strictly to "inside voice" - as in, inside your head).
And, I'll admit it - as much as I truly treasure and marvel at feeling and watching baby's movements, they reach a point of adding to the weariness. There's only so many kicks and punches one can take before things just get ouchy.
All things considered, I don't feel so bad to admit to feeling generally wiped out all the time. I am mentally and physically taxed, and still facing well over a month of cohabitation with this baby. Despite all that, I still try to keep drawing my mind to hope and positive energy. It is more of a struggle than it was a month ago, but this is a temporary (and truly fleeting) state of being, and I just keep reminding myself that it's all for the best possible reason. If anyone else wants to throw out good words of encouragement or ideas for distracting activities, it's most welcome.
I know it's probably getting pretty predictable around here, but what can I say...by the last weeks of pregnancy, there's little else on an expectant woman's mind. It's amazing, the lengths a body can withstand for the sake of growing a life, and it takes a toll. At this stage of things, every moment of the day packs a big punch. The short list includes fun things like:
sleep deprivation
loose joints and aching muscles
scatter-brained tendencies
hormonal surges that can provoke mood swings
the ever-expanding abdomen
heartburn
nausea
feeling super conspicuous
unsolicited observations (more like Tourette's outbursts) about the size of your body from others (and fyi - these are essentially an overstatement of the obvious, of no help whatsoever, and, unless initiated by the mama, really should be kept strictly to "inside voice" - as in, inside your head).
And, I'll admit it - as much as I truly treasure and marvel at feeling and watching baby's movements, they reach a point of adding to the weariness. There's only so many kicks and punches one can take before things just get ouchy.
All things considered, I don't feel so bad to admit to feeling generally wiped out all the time. I am mentally and physically taxed, and still facing well over a month of cohabitation with this baby. Despite all that, I still try to keep drawing my mind to hope and positive energy. It is more of a struggle than it was a month ago, but this is a temporary (and truly fleeting) state of being, and I just keep reminding myself that it's all for the best possible reason. If anyone else wants to throw out good words of encouragement or ideas for distracting activities, it's most welcome.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
hard boiled
Something's amiss when I cannot even sufficiently hard-boil eggs. I mean, they weren't just underdone. They were horrific - a soft boil bordering on unsafe for consumption. I will be mildly impressed if I make it to birth day without having a single incident of, oh, putting my underwear on backwards or getting lost on my way to work. It's a gamble at this point.
But, come on, now, I hear you say, how about something not pregnancy related? All these "woeful pregnant lady" anecdotes are wearing us down. (Or perhaps I'm just projecting my own certain weariness onto you lovely readers). So let's give that a shot.
The H and I had made a game plan at the beginning of summer to try out Saturday evening worship at a local church. Not that we're unhappy in our house church, or in our faith community. Nah, those folks are family - they're not for breaking up with. But I really value the role that the church programs (Sunday school, VBS, camp) played in my life as a kid, and so I think we were mostly wanting to try this place out to give K some exposure to that kind of structure. As a kid, there's just something about learning in the context of a group of peers that is unique, and different (obviously) from what happens at home.
So, here in the twilight of summer break, we finally got around to it over the weekend. K had a harder time jumping in than I thought, but I chalk it up to her personality - she is pretty apprehensive when she doesn't know what to expect in a situation, especially where new people are involved. And I, since I knew what she would likely encounter, hadn't taken enough time to prepare her. Important parenting lesson learned: the kid can't read your mind. But, after about 10 minutes, she was good to go. The H and I enjoyed the big, loud worship, and I just enjoyed thinking about the possibilities for getting involved. I chalk that up to my personality. I'm naturally structure-oriented, and I guess it just appeals to me...having those options. It's something I've missed as part of church.
The body we're a part of isn't big on "programs" (meaning structured things like Sunday School, regular outreaches, direct involvement with parachurch organizations, etc.) - mostly out of necessity, as we don't have any paid full-time staff. Programs take money and people to sustain. Also, leadership has, over the years, taken a diverse approach to programs - ranging from fully embracing them to virtually shunning them. And I get it - I don't hold judgement about the "official" position or the availability of programs in our little body. I understand, for those who don't care for them, there's concern that, sometimes, the program could become the focus, getting mired in ego and logistics and details, and the point of its existence gets lost. For us, at least, for right now, it feels like there could be some good that comes of our exposure to "big programs".
Something's amiss when I cannot even sufficiently hard-boil eggs. I mean, they weren't just underdone. They were horrific - a soft boil bordering on unsafe for consumption. I will be mildly impressed if I make it to birth day without having a single incident of, oh, putting my underwear on backwards or getting lost on my way to work. It's a gamble at this point.
But, come on, now, I hear you say, how about something not pregnancy related? All these "woeful pregnant lady" anecdotes are wearing us down. (Or perhaps I'm just projecting my own certain weariness onto you lovely readers). So let's give that a shot.
The H and I had made a game plan at the beginning of summer to try out Saturday evening worship at a local church. Not that we're unhappy in our house church, or in our faith community. Nah, those folks are family - they're not for breaking up with. But I really value the role that the church programs (Sunday school, VBS, camp) played in my life as a kid, and so I think we were mostly wanting to try this place out to give K some exposure to that kind of structure. As a kid, there's just something about learning in the context of a group of peers that is unique, and different (obviously) from what happens at home.
So, here in the twilight of summer break, we finally got around to it over the weekend. K had a harder time jumping in than I thought, but I chalk it up to her personality - she is pretty apprehensive when she doesn't know what to expect in a situation, especially where new people are involved. And I, since I knew what she would likely encounter, hadn't taken enough time to prepare her. Important parenting lesson learned: the kid can't read your mind. But, after about 10 minutes, she was good to go. The H and I enjoyed the big, loud worship, and I just enjoyed thinking about the possibilities for getting involved. I chalk that up to my personality. I'm naturally structure-oriented, and I guess it just appeals to me...having those options. It's something I've missed as part of church.
The body we're a part of isn't big on "programs" (meaning structured things like Sunday School, regular outreaches, direct involvement with parachurch organizations, etc.) - mostly out of necessity, as we don't have any paid full-time staff. Programs take money and people to sustain. Also, leadership has, over the years, taken a diverse approach to programs - ranging from fully embracing them to virtually shunning them. And I get it - I don't hold judgement about the "official" position or the availability of programs in our little body. I understand, for those who don't care for them, there's concern that, sometimes, the program could become the focus, getting mired in ego and logistics and details, and the point of its existence gets lost. For us, at least, for right now, it feels like there could be some good that comes of our exposure to "big programs".
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
loosey goosey, or, these hips were made for spreadin'
Ah, the final stretch (pun intended) of bearing a child. These are limits of physical endurance to rival any athlete. I marvel at the miracle of the human body - joints and muscles and organs spreading, shifting, and growing, blood-rich veins spreading blue lines all over me like a complex river system, another life thriving within my own, actively karate-chopping me lest I get the least bit forgetful of his presence (not likely!).
I also cringe, though, when my legs go numb or my hips pop and crack, or when that one spot in my gluteals aches all day, every day. I feel conspicuous, out-of-breath, and sluggish - but I hate sounding like a whiner! My doctor chuckled last evening as I related that I seem to be coming off my 2nd trimester high of "empowered pregnant lady". He said it's typical at this stage (32-35 weeks) for a mom to get caught up in thinking "this will never end", of not being able to clearly see either the point from which she's come or where she's headed - feeling too far from either one. Usually, though, he'll check in with the mom around 37 or 38 weeks and, with the end in sight, she's more prone to say "oh, I'm fine".
So, I took all that as encouragement -- these are, in a sense, the doldrums, and I'm sure it'll pass. It's just a tough spot - I'm tired, achy, and emotionally weary. But, I'm still capable of finding the silver lining, and am feeling particularly thankful today for modern technology (especially because long, hot baths and heating pads are not options at this point). P&G, my aching fanny thanks you.
Ah, the final stretch (pun intended) of bearing a child. These are limits of physical endurance to rival any athlete. I marvel at the miracle of the human body - joints and muscles and organs spreading, shifting, and growing, blood-rich veins spreading blue lines all over me like a complex river system, another life thriving within my own, actively karate-chopping me lest I get the least bit forgetful of his presence (not likely!).
I also cringe, though, when my legs go numb or my hips pop and crack, or when that one spot in my gluteals aches all day, every day. I feel conspicuous, out-of-breath, and sluggish - but I hate sounding like a whiner! My doctor chuckled last evening as I related that I seem to be coming off my 2nd trimester high of "empowered pregnant lady". He said it's typical at this stage (32-35 weeks) for a mom to get caught up in thinking "this will never end", of not being able to clearly see either the point from which she's come or where she's headed - feeling too far from either one. Usually, though, he'll check in with the mom around 37 or 38 weeks and, with the end in sight, she's more prone to say "oh, I'm fine".
So, I took all that as encouragement -- these are, in a sense, the doldrums, and I'm sure it'll pass. It's just a tough spot - I'm tired, achy, and emotionally weary. But, I'm still capable of finding the silver lining, and am feeling particularly thankful today for modern technology (especially because long, hot baths and heating pads are not options at this point). P&G, my aching fanny thanks you.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
big and bigger
These are the days of the ever-expanding abdomen, and a little one undeterred by limited space - man, are those babies pliable. And limber. He's got a knee or something strategically placed about 4 inches below the right side of my ribs, and is very keen on moving it around. A lot. It's very "poke-y". I wouldn't be surprised to end up with bruises after all the internal calisthenics this kid's been doing.
We've knuckled down around The Din to get as many of our big rehab projects knocked out as possible in these last few weeks before the newest resident stakes his claim. There's been a lot shuffling things around, coping with dust, and a determined Husband who's been installing flooring, painting, replacing trim, hanging a back door, re-grouting bathroom tile, filling holes with Great Stuff (so much that I think we ought to be shareholders in Dow at this point), and working doggedly to free up the To Do list by September. I couldn't be prouder of how hard he's been working, or how talented he is. I'm thankful we've been spared forking out huge sums to contractors. The H has tackled nearly everything - with some help from some skilled family and friends.
For my part, I would love to be helping with painting and all, but I'm lucky if I can withstand being bent over long enough to empty the dishwasher. So I'm dialing down (reluctantly), and keeping to laundry, vacuuming, dusting, and bathtub scrubbing - the fun stuff.
K is ever-endearing, talking to her brother, rubbing my tummy and commenting on how much it's changed. I can sense her excitement building. With two babies arriving in our family this fall (a new niece or nephew is due 8 weeks after our little guy), we've got plenty of reason for excitement.
Here's some listening/reading commentary: I just listened to a great interview and performance by Jonatha Brooke, one of my absolutely favorite singer-songwriters, on one of my favorite radio stations (I listen to it at work). What a great treat for the ears. And, to help balance out the abundance of pregnancy and childbirth literature I've been ingesting, I picked up a real thinking person's tome...yep, I'm reading Dilbert. I tried getting into some meatier subject matter, but frankly, the ol' late-term-pregnancy brain is working hard enough right now.
These are the days of the ever-expanding abdomen, and a little one undeterred by limited space - man, are those babies pliable. And limber. He's got a knee or something strategically placed about 4 inches below the right side of my ribs, and is very keen on moving it around. A lot. It's very "poke-y". I wouldn't be surprised to end up with bruises after all the internal calisthenics this kid's been doing.
We've knuckled down around The Din to get as many of our big rehab projects knocked out as possible in these last few weeks before the newest resident stakes his claim. There's been a lot shuffling things around, coping with dust, and a determined Husband who's been installing flooring, painting, replacing trim, hanging a back door, re-grouting bathroom tile, filling holes with Great Stuff (so much that I think we ought to be shareholders in Dow at this point), and working doggedly to free up the To Do list by September. I couldn't be prouder of how hard he's been working, or how talented he is. I'm thankful we've been spared forking out huge sums to contractors. The H has tackled nearly everything - with some help from some skilled family and friends.
For my part, I would love to be helping with painting and all, but I'm lucky if I can withstand being bent over long enough to empty the dishwasher. So I'm dialing down (reluctantly), and keeping to laundry, vacuuming, dusting, and bathtub scrubbing - the fun stuff.
K is ever-endearing, talking to her brother, rubbing my tummy and commenting on how much it's changed. I can sense her excitement building. With two babies arriving in our family this fall (a new niece or nephew is due 8 weeks after our little guy), we've got plenty of reason for excitement.
Here's some listening/reading commentary: I just listened to a great interview and performance by Jonatha Brooke, one of my absolutely favorite singer-songwriters, on one of my favorite radio stations (I listen to it at work). What a great treat for the ears. And, to help balance out the abundance of pregnancy and childbirth literature I've been ingesting, I picked up a real thinking person's tome...yep, I'm reading Dilbert. I tried getting into some meatier subject matter, but frankly, the ol' late-term-pregnancy brain is working hard enough right now.
Friday, July 17, 2009
you know it's a slow news day...
when Yahoo has a headline of "learn how to peel a banana like a monkey". Really? We're that desperate to grasp at useless information? Would it kill these guys once in a while to just post "Nothing much going on...come back later"? Like yesterday - why would I need to know why random celebrity dude chose to have plastic surgery? Why would I care? What makes Yahoo think I care?
Too many distractions from what really ought to captivate us - like the people right in front of our faces, the day passing us by, the internal stuff we use these kinds of diversions to avoid facing. So, huh...maybe spending time in The Din is keeping you from something much more important - get to it, then! No banana tutorials here.
when Yahoo has a headline of "learn how to peel a banana like a monkey". Really? We're that desperate to grasp at useless information? Would it kill these guys once in a while to just post "Nothing much going on...come back later"? Like yesterday - why would I need to know why random celebrity dude chose to have plastic surgery? Why would I care? What makes Yahoo think I care?
Too many distractions from what really ought to captivate us - like the people right in front of our faces, the day passing us by, the internal stuff we use these kinds of diversions to avoid facing. So, huh...maybe spending time in The Din is keeping you from something much more important - get to it, then! No banana tutorials here.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
mamma mia
We watched the movie with K last week (with some strategic fast-forwarding of a couple of not-quite-for-six-year-old-eyes scenes), which was followed by a lengthy discourse about the meanings (both literal and euphemistic) of the phrase "mamma mia!", and postulations as to why the film was named after that phrase. For a few days after, there was heavy rotation of Abba Gold and More Abba Gold on the iPod. Since then, our house has been ringing with refrains of the Abba catalog. That girl is hooked (but then again, this is the girl who, while watching an episode of Lawrence Welk on PBS, stopped after Lawrence shared about an upcoming concert and asked if we could go see them...that was a bit of a heartbreaker: "Sorry, babe, but that concert probably happened before Mommy was even born.").
And I just realized today that K is in the Class of 2021. Doggone. I get it when I watch sci-fi movies dated that far into the future, but to try and put it in the context of my baby graduating high school? Just freaky. Makes me want to say "mamma mia!".
We watched the movie with K last week (with some strategic fast-forwarding of a couple of not-quite-for-six-year-old-eyes scenes), which was followed by a lengthy discourse about the meanings (both literal and euphemistic) of the phrase "mamma mia!", and postulations as to why the film was named after that phrase. For a few days after, there was heavy rotation of Abba Gold and More Abba Gold on the iPod. Since then, our house has been ringing with refrains of the Abba catalog. That girl is hooked (but then again, this is the girl who, while watching an episode of Lawrence Welk on PBS, stopped after Lawrence shared about an upcoming concert and asked if we could go see them...that was a bit of a heartbreaker: "Sorry, babe, but that concert probably happened before Mommy was even born.").
And I just realized today that K is in the Class of 2021. Doggone. I get it when I watch sci-fi movies dated that far into the future, but to try and put it in the context of my baby graduating high school? Just freaky. Makes me want to say "mamma mia!".
