Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Friday, May 7, 2010
A Tribute To Nashville
Will the circle be unbroken, by and by Lord, by and by?
There’s a better home a-waitin’ in the sky, Lord, in the sky…
They don’t call Nashville “Music City USA” for nothing. Music is the lifeblood of this beautiful jewel of the Smoky Mountains, the one that sits astride the mighty Cumberland River. It’s never silent in Nashville, because even the wind through the trees is musical. The music never stops.
It’s not just country music either. Nashville is absolutely the undisputed country music capital of the world, but all are welcome. Nashville has a fantastic classical music scene, and they play both bluegrass and the blues down in The District.
The mighty Cumberland overran its banks last week, and so did Old Hickory Lake. The flood was the worst the area has seen since the Civil War. People died. Homes were destroyed. This was a true act of nature; there were no faulty levees or the Army Corps of Engineers to blame, simply a freak act of God, wrought upon a musical city in the mountains. It seems incomprehensible that the music could be silenced, but for a brief moment, it looked possible.
The waters are receding, and the people are picking themselves up by their quiet pride and their bootstraps, as Tennesseans tend to do. The heartache will not fade for a long time. The music is quieter than normal right now, but the city’s heart still beats, like a timpani struck ever so gently.
Symphony Hall itself was spared. But it took 18 feet of water into its basement, destroying rehearsal space, the console for its organ, and two hand-built, hand-selected Steinway grand concert pianos, along with countless other instruments. The amount of structural damage is unknown as yet.
The Country Music Hall of Fame took on water in its basement, losing hardwood floors and ceiling tiles, and its theatre flooded over the stage and up to the third row. The main rotunda and the artifacts were guarded during the flood by a dedicated team of curators, who managed to save just about everything.
The Grand Ole Opry House, home of the Grand Ole Opry, was flooded through the backstage and loading areas, and the auditorium filled with water. The entire performance/stage area, along with about 3/4 of the main floor was underwater. The Opry House sits at the edge of the Cumberland, next to the Opryland Hotel and Opry Mills Mall, both of which sustained severe damage and high water flooding. All three facilities are closed until further notice.
BB King’s is closed. Many businesses are unsure of their re-opening strategy. Fear of mold and loss of housing are real threats to the livelihood of Nashvillians, musical or not.
Those who did not experience loss have opened their doors and hearts to the displaced. The Station Inn survived unscathed, and its website exhorts folks to “pitch in and help if and when you can.” The Bluebird Cafe, a haven for up and coming songwriters, closed for two days but is now re-opened, and the music plays.
The orchestra is playing a concert tonight for free, outside Nashville’s City Hall. The music will play on.
The Hall of Fame is drying out, and plans to reopen soon. The music will play on.
The Ryman Auditorium, 119 years old, stands strong and dry on Fifth Avenue. The Opry will move back to the Mother Church of Country Music, its historic home, until further notice. The Opry will be broadcast as usual this weekend (tonight and Saturday) on WSM 650 AM. The music will play on.
And this Sunday, in churches across Davidson, and Williamson, and Sumner, and Robertson, and Cheatham and Rutherford Counties, choirs will sing and prayers will raise that the damage wasn’t worse, and that Nashville will survive. The music will be heard.
In the face of chaos, there are moments of optimism in Nashville. Of all places, when the country has bigger fish to fry and a failed terrorist bomb in Times Square is a far sexier story, Nashville is taking care of its own. Somehow, I would expect nothing less. Let the music play on, and be heard.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Jumping on the Blog Train
Two very good friends have recently picked up their blogs again, both of which you should go and read immediately here and here. I'll wait.
Sigh.
I don't want to blog about not blogging, so I won't. I'm taking these two friends' blogs as a sign that I should probably commit more to the written word than I have in recent memory. Suffice to say the last six months or so have been INSANE on so many fronts. (I'm certain these stories will come out in more detail as I write more.)
Family-wise, Bea joined Girl Scouts, and I am currently serving as an assistant leader/cookie mom. She continues with her swimming lessons,and has been taking music classes on Saturdays at a private music school here in the Cities. She now wants to pick up violin and piano, and knows big words like diatonic and pentatonic.
We spent Christmas in the hometown with my mom, sister, her fiance, my sister-in-law, my in-laws and a mess of friends. We were home for a solid week, dodging snowstorms and doing our best to not buy into holiday insanity. However, we were staying at my mother's house. Insanity is inherent under that particular roof.
The girls had their birthdays - Bea turned seven (and I did write her a letter - I may back-post it later) and little Miss Elle (aka "The Jedi Baby") turned a YEAR old. I wrote her a letter too - if I post Bea's, I'll post Elle's.
We landed at home for a day and a half before I jetted off to Vegas with Mara & Abbie to meet up with Cait for the most amazing New Year's Eve of my life. Bar none. I have seriously not had that much fun with a group of girls in AGES. Chicago in 2008 was fun, but this? Ridiculous. Utterly amazing. I don't know whether it was the setting, or whether it was the company (probably both), but that trip changed my life. I found the other three of my four... Mara, Abbie & Cait are my compass points, North, South and West to my East. I am thankful to the Universe for having Mara local to me - I would have wept the entire plane ride home if I'd had to do it alone.
Of course, John Mayer was involved, because the whole point of that trip was to see the Trio at the Hard Rock on NYE. A while back, I made a list of concerts I had to see before I died...JM3 was on that list - and...check. I was probably 15 feet away from the stage, maybe 3 people back in a GA crowd that was damn near suffocating. The concert itself should be a separate blog entry. The trip...indescribable.
So now, here I sit...the baby is napping and I have law homework to do, and the daily grind is once again upon me. I'm over at Twitter quite a bit - you can see my twitfeed in the left column, but as many have said before me, 140 characters aren't always enough. Trying to remember that.
Sigh.
I don't want to blog about not blogging, so I won't. I'm taking these two friends' blogs as a sign that I should probably commit more to the written word than I have in recent memory. Suffice to say the last six months or so have been INSANE on so many fronts. (I'm certain these stories will come out in more detail as I write more.)
Family-wise, Bea joined Girl Scouts, and I am currently serving as an assistant leader/cookie mom. She continues with her swimming lessons,and has been taking music classes on Saturdays at a private music school here in the Cities. She now wants to pick up violin and piano, and knows big words like diatonic and pentatonic.
We spent Christmas in the hometown with my mom, sister, her fiance, my sister-in-law, my in-laws and a mess of friends. We were home for a solid week, dodging snowstorms and doing our best to not buy into holiday insanity. However, we were staying at my mother's house. Insanity is inherent under that particular roof.
The girls had their birthdays - Bea turned seven (and I did write her a letter - I may back-post it later) and little Miss Elle (aka "The Jedi Baby") turned a YEAR old. I wrote her a letter too - if I post Bea's, I'll post Elle's.
We landed at home for a day and a half before I jetted off to Vegas with Mara & Abbie to meet up with Cait for the most amazing New Year's Eve of my life. Bar none. I have seriously not had that much fun with a group of girls in AGES. Chicago in 2008 was fun, but this? Ridiculous. Utterly amazing. I don't know whether it was the setting, or whether it was the company (probably both), but that trip changed my life. I found the other three of my four... Mara, Abbie & Cait are my compass points, North, South and West to my East. I am thankful to the Universe for having Mara local to me - I would have wept the entire plane ride home if I'd had to do it alone.
Of course, John Mayer was involved, because the whole point of that trip was to see the Trio at the Hard Rock on NYE. A while back, I made a list of concerts I had to see before I died...JM3 was on that list - and...check. I was probably 15 feet away from the stage, maybe 3 people back in a GA crowd that was damn near suffocating. The concert itself should be a separate blog entry. The trip...indescribable.
So now, here I sit...the baby is napping and I have law homework to do, and the daily grind is once again upon me. I'm over at Twitter quite a bit - you can see my twitfeed in the left column, but as many have said before me, 140 characters aren't always enough. Trying to remember that.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Sick
Holy BALLS do I hate it when people in my family get sick.
The kids, I can deal with. Seriously. Bea puts on the usual six year old drama and gets some palliative care (ice packs, Tylenol, fluids, naps, extra Disney Channel) and she's fine. She also gets contact sick -- whenever anyone else is sick, so is she. I have very little tolerance for the princess routine regardless of her place on the homeostatic scale, and getting sick is usually no more than an excuse for getting extra attention and spoilage.
Little Elle on the other hand, hasn't had so much as a sniffle in the past six months. Seriously. Aside from a little cold and some teething pain/fever, she's been healthy as a horse since she was born.
I am not allowed to get sick. I get something that knocks me on my ass about once every 3-4 years. I take my Advil/Benadryl/Robitussin, take a hot shower and drink some tea, go to bed and die for about 12 hours, get up and I'm fine. I don't abide getting sick. I get pissy when people in my house are sick.
And then there's The Boy.
My normally lovely, wonderful husband is horrible to be around when he's sick. He won't take anything, and he won't do anything. He just sits, waiting to get better. He'll take baths, he'll take naps, but he won't do anything to actively cure himself. It's up to me to force fluids, to buy the home remedies, to make him take them, and to get him better.
The worst is when Bea and the Boy are sick at the same time. As is the case right now. Holy crap, but do they feed off each other! Drama, thy name is Thompson. Would you like some cheese with your whine?
I came home to find everyone still in their pajamas, everyone on the couch, the baby in yesterday's outfit, lazy and lethargic, and nothing done. I don't know what it is about this combination that makes me fly into high gear, but I do. Without fail. Every. Single. Time. I turned off the tee vee, took everyone's temperature, determined that my husband was warm (probably from laying around in his bathrobe all day, Bea was slightly warmer (99.3, probably the same, but a gentle diet and some Pedialyte and extra fluids for good measure) and Elle was clearly on the mend (100.5, but happy and playing, an improvement over 101.7 and lethargic last night).
I don't know what it is in the maternal DNA that doesn't abide rest and laziness when sick. Perhaps it's jealousy: the world doesn't stop when I'm sick, so why should it stop for them? Perhaps it's also a lack of understanding: I don't get sick, ever, so I can't relate to what it's like. I don't know what it's like to have allergies or have to take more than a multi-vitamin each day to live normally.
I am grateful and thankful that everyone seems to just have a touch of whatever's going around, that it's not worse, and that they are all on the mend. I'm also thankful that my girls seemed to have inherited my constitution, as neither of them have ever gotten more sick than a 48 hour virus or an ear infection.
But dammit, it still bothers me.
In other news: I either threw my best 800 since 2007 in the pool yesterday, or I shorted myself a lap. I think I shorted myself, but I was still happy with the result. I added a timed lap on the end, and still came out just a hair under 20 minutes. This was a huge improvement over Thursday, and I swam continuously, where on Thursday I had to take breaks. Holla!
In further news, we got this lovely little treat via Twitter earlier this week. All I have to say is... droooool...
The kids, I can deal with. Seriously. Bea puts on the usual six year old drama and gets some palliative care (ice packs, Tylenol, fluids, naps, extra Disney Channel) and she's fine. She also gets contact sick -- whenever anyone else is sick, so is she. I have very little tolerance for the princess routine regardless of her place on the homeostatic scale, and getting sick is usually no more than an excuse for getting extra attention and spoilage.
Little Elle on the other hand, hasn't had so much as a sniffle in the past six months. Seriously. Aside from a little cold and some teething pain/fever, she's been healthy as a horse since she was born.
I am not allowed to get sick. I get something that knocks me on my ass about once every 3-4 years. I take my Advil/Benadryl/Robitussin, take a hot shower and drink some tea, go to bed and die for about 12 hours, get up and I'm fine. I don't abide getting sick. I get pissy when people in my house are sick.
And then there's The Boy.
My normally lovely, wonderful husband is horrible to be around when he's sick. He won't take anything, and he won't do anything. He just sits, waiting to get better. He'll take baths, he'll take naps, but he won't do anything to actively cure himself. It's up to me to force fluids, to buy the home remedies, to make him take them, and to get him better.
The worst is when Bea and the Boy are sick at the same time. As is the case right now. Holy crap, but do they feed off each other! Drama, thy name is Thompson. Would you like some cheese with your whine?
I came home to find everyone still in their pajamas, everyone on the couch, the baby in yesterday's outfit, lazy and lethargic, and nothing done. I don't know what it is about this combination that makes me fly into high gear, but I do. Without fail. Every. Single. Time. I turned off the tee vee, took everyone's temperature, determined that my husband was warm (probably from laying around in his bathrobe all day, Bea was slightly warmer (99.3, probably the same, but a gentle diet and some Pedialyte and extra fluids for good measure) and Elle was clearly on the mend (100.5, but happy and playing, an improvement over 101.7 and lethargic last night).
I don't know what it is in the maternal DNA that doesn't abide rest and laziness when sick. Perhaps it's jealousy: the world doesn't stop when I'm sick, so why should it stop for them? Perhaps it's also a lack of understanding: I don't get sick, ever, so I can't relate to what it's like. I don't know what it's like to have allergies or have to take more than a multi-vitamin each day to live normally.
I am grateful and thankful that everyone seems to just have a touch of whatever's going around, that it's not worse, and that they are all on the mend. I'm also thankful that my girls seemed to have inherited my constitution, as neither of them have ever gotten more sick than a 48 hour virus or an ear infection.
But dammit, it still bothers me.
In other news: I either threw my best 800 since 2007 in the pool yesterday, or I shorted myself a lap. I think I shorted myself, but I was still happy with the result. I added a timed lap on the end, and still came out just a hair under 20 minutes. This was a huge improvement over Thursday, and I swam continuously, where on Thursday I had to take breaks. Holla!
In further news, we got this lovely little treat via Twitter earlier this week. All I have to say is... droooool...
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
First Day of First Grade
So the school bus came and picked Bea up this morning, and I am officially the mother of a first grader. Child, weren't you born about a month ago?
My sister visited this past weekend and brought her new guy with her. He's very nice, polite, good sense of humor and is absolutely head over heels for her. He's good people, and after all she's been through, a Nice Guy is absolutely what she deserves. We had a wild and crazy 48 hours, including boating on the St. Croix with Kate and a trip to the State Fair.
Oh my, the State Fair. Where food on sticks reigns supreme. I think I consumed enough fat for a month. My only saving grace is all the walking around we did, which probably burned up about half the calories we ate. Seriously: french fries, fried cheese on a stick, cheese curds, hot dogs, hamburgers, cheesecake on a stick, footlong corndogs on a stick, Sweet Martha's Cookies (a bucket full!), lemonade, cotton candy, funnel cake... you name it. We didn't get to try the pot roast sundae or the Nacho Mama, and we saved the hotdish on a stick for next year. But oh my God... I am going to spend the next two days in detox. Fortunately, I think I reigned myself in well enough the rest of the week.
Jon & Julia also got married this weekend, and I ate 3 pieces (yes, three, seriously) of wedding cake (and it was delicious!) and got delightfully drunk at the reception. Oh, alcohol...you are so tasty and intoxicating going down, and so caloric two days afterward...big props to Kate for bringing me home, as I was not in any shape to drive. Needless to say, the wedding feast will be a factor on Thursday as well.
All in all, it was a really wonderful weekend, spent with friends and family, enjoying life and living out loud. I love our life in Minnesota; we have more friends and are more social, our kids are thriving, and I'm beginning to see beyond what brought us here (law school) and what will keep us here. It's starting to feel like home, and though I'll always remember my hometown fondly, and will visit often (as I have friends and memories there as well), I'm starting to picture my girls growing up here, and imagining what that might look like.
I like what I'm starting to see.
My sister visited this past weekend and brought her new guy with her. He's very nice, polite, good sense of humor and is absolutely head over heels for her. He's good people, and after all she's been through, a Nice Guy is absolutely what she deserves. We had a wild and crazy 48 hours, including boating on the St. Croix with Kate and a trip to the State Fair.
Oh my, the State Fair. Where food on sticks reigns supreme. I think I consumed enough fat for a month. My only saving grace is all the walking around we did, which probably burned up about half the calories we ate. Seriously: french fries, fried cheese on a stick, cheese curds, hot dogs, hamburgers, cheesecake on a stick, footlong corndogs on a stick, Sweet Martha's Cookies (a bucket full!), lemonade, cotton candy, funnel cake... you name it. We didn't get to try the pot roast sundae or the Nacho Mama, and we saved the hotdish on a stick for next year. But oh my God... I am going to spend the next two days in detox. Fortunately, I think I reigned myself in well enough the rest of the week.
Jon & Julia also got married this weekend, and I ate 3 pieces (yes, three, seriously) of wedding cake (and it was delicious!) and got delightfully drunk at the reception. Oh, alcohol...you are so tasty and intoxicating going down, and so caloric two days afterward...big props to Kate for bringing me home, as I was not in any shape to drive. Needless to say, the wedding feast will be a factor on Thursday as well.
All in all, it was a really wonderful weekend, spent with friends and family, enjoying life and living out loud. I love our life in Minnesota; we have more friends and are more social, our kids are thriving, and I'm beginning to see beyond what brought us here (law school) and what will keep us here. It's starting to feel like home, and though I'll always remember my hometown fondly, and will visit often (as I have friends and memories there as well), I'm starting to picture my girls growing up here, and imagining what that might look like.
I like what I'm starting to see.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Need To Do This
More later, I'm on my way to take the girls to the indoor waterpark. School started 3 weeks ago for me, next week for Bea. My sister is visiting this weekend with her (GASP) fiance (oh yeah, I've been away for a loooooooooong time), Dad came and visited a few weeks ago (!!!)
Yes, Internet. We're long overdue for a nice, long chat. Bring the booze.
In the mean time, I did a false start with WW in May/June, but I managed to keep off 10 of 15 pounds lost. Time to get back on the wagon, without the $20 per week group therapy. More on this too.
Food Diary for Today:
Breakfast
5-Factor Fuze Smoothie (Fage plain yogurt, 1 medium orange, 1/2 Fuze Mango)
5 pts/55 carbs/15g protein
Lunch
Amy's Tamale Verde frozen dinner
7 pts/55 carbs/ 7g protein
Snacks
1/2 fuze 2 pts
1 banana 2 pts
Cheese curds 3 pts
Dinner
No Name Salmon Filet 7pts
1 cup organic uncooked spinach 0 pts
For now, I'm going to follow a combination of the point system to calculate volume, the 5-Factor plan and insulin resistance guidelines to decide what to eat, and in general, limiting the amount of white bread, HFCS, and overall empty calories. I will probably also experiment with a "cheat day" - but I know myself fairly well, and I might start with a "cheat meal" once a week, rather than a full-on cheat day. Believe me when I tell you that one cheat day can be justified and extended into a full-on three day "weekend" of cheating.
I'm also going to be blogging about it. With any luck this will work and I can take a few pounds off before the holidays. Okay, more than a few. Okay, as much as I can. I'm hoping that's in the 25-35 pound range.
Yes, Internet. We're long overdue for a nice, long chat. Bring the booze.
In the mean time, I did a false start with WW in May/June, but I managed to keep off 10 of 15 pounds lost. Time to get back on the wagon, without the $20 per week group therapy. More on this too.
Food Diary for Today:
Breakfast
5-Factor Fuze Smoothie (Fage plain yogurt, 1 medium orange, 1/2 Fuze Mango)
5 pts/55 carbs/15g protein
Lunch
Amy's Tamale Verde frozen dinner
7 pts/55 carbs/ 7g protein
Snacks
1/2 fuze 2 pts
1 banana 2 pts
Cheese curds 3 pts
Dinner
No Name Salmon Filet 7pts
1 cup organic uncooked spinach 0 pts
For now, I'm going to follow a combination of the point system to calculate volume, the 5-Factor plan and insulin resistance guidelines to decide what to eat, and in general, limiting the amount of white bread, HFCS, and overall empty calories. I will probably also experiment with a "cheat day" - but I know myself fairly well, and I might start with a "cheat meal" once a week, rather than a full-on cheat day. Believe me when I tell you that one cheat day can be justified and extended into a full-on three day "weekend" of cheating.
I'm also going to be blogging about it. With any luck this will work and I can take a few pounds off before the holidays. Okay, more than a few. Okay, as much as I can. I'm hoping that's in the 25-35 pound range.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Ten
I got tired of waiting, wondering if you were ever coming around
My faith in you was fading when I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said,
"Romeo, save me I've been feeling so alone, I keep waiting for you but you never come; is this in my head? I don't know what to think"
He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring
And said, "marry me Juliet, You'll never have to be alone
I love you and that's all I really know,
I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress
It's a love story baby just say yes..."
'Cause we were both young when I first saw you...
-- "Love Story", Taylor Swift
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Sweet Baby James
Because I did it for her sister yesterday, and because she's always on my mind. This one's for sweet baby Elle. I'm a big believer in singing "real" songs to kids, not just lullabies and kid music. It has its place, for certain, but in the car and on the stereo at home, we listen to Mom's Music. And that is not just John Mayer, but 10,000 Maniacs, Pearl Jam, Dixie Chicks, the Cities Sampler, Sara Barielles, and yes, James Taylor. The song was written as a lullaby for JT's nephew and namesake, and it has always been a favorite of mine. When Elle responded to it, it became special on a completely different level.
This vid is nice because you get to hear the story of JT's nephew, the original "ornery little varmint" named baby James.
There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range.
His horse and his cattle are his only companions;
He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons,
Waiting for summer, his pastures to change
And as the moon rises, he sits by his fire,
Thinking about women and glasses of beer;
And closing his eyes as the dogies retire,
He sings out a song which is soft but it's clear, as if maybe someone could hear.
Goodnight, you moonlight ladies; rockabye sweet baby James...
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose;
Won't you let me go down in my dreams?
And rockabye sweet baby James.
Now the first of December was covered with snow,
And so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston.
Lord, the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frosting,
With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go...
There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway,
A song that they sing when they take to the sea,
A song that they sing of their home in the sky—
Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep,
But singing works just fine for me...
So, goodnight, you moonlight ladies; and rockabye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose;
Won't you let me go down in my dreams?
And rockabye sweet baby James.
This vid is nice because you get to hear the story of JT's nephew, the original "ornery little varmint" named baby James.
There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range.
His horse and his cattle are his only companions;
He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons,
Waiting for summer, his pastures to change
And as the moon rises, he sits by his fire,
Thinking about women and glasses of beer;
And closing his eyes as the dogies retire,
He sings out a song which is soft but it's clear, as if maybe someone could hear.
Goodnight, you moonlight ladies; rockabye sweet baby James...
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose;
Won't you let me go down in my dreams?
And rockabye sweet baby James.
Now the first of December was covered with snow,
And so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston.
Lord, the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frosting,
With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go...
There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway,
A song that they sing when they take to the sea,
A song that they sing of their home in the sky—
Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep,
But singing works just fine for me...
So, goodnight, you moonlight ladies; and rockabye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose;
Won't you let me go down in my dreams?
And rockabye sweet baby James.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Blossom
Because I am thinking about my big girl Bea, and this song always reminds me of her.
Blossom, smile some sunshine down my way
Lately, Ive been lonesome
Blossom, its been much too long a day
Seems my dreams have frozen
Melt my cares away
Send the sunshine down my way whenever you call my name
I know what you mean to say to me, girl, its all the same
Blossom, theres an empty road behind
Sit you down beside me
Blossom, theres a sweet dream on my mind
Theres a song inside me
Take these chains away
Now, send the sunshine down my way whenever you call my name
I know what you mean to say to me, girl, its all the same
Blossom, smile some sunshine down my way
Lately, Ive been lonesome
Blossom, its been much too long a day
Seems my dreams have frozen
Melt my cares away
Blossom, smile some sunshine down my way
Lately, Ive been lonesome
Blossom, its been much too long a day
Seems my dreams have frozen
Melt my cares away
Send the sunshine down my way whenever you call my name
I know what you mean to say to me, girl, its all the same
Blossom, theres an empty road behind
Sit you down beside me
Blossom, theres a sweet dream on my mind
Theres a song inside me
Take these chains away
Now, send the sunshine down my way whenever you call my name
I know what you mean to say to me, girl, its all the same
Blossom, smile some sunshine down my way
Lately, Ive been lonesome
Blossom, its been much too long a day
Seems my dreams have frozen
Melt my cares away
Thursday, February 26, 2009
In The Pain, There is Healing
I was all set to write a fun little entry about my girls; about their general adorablenesses and proclivities, a little compare and contrast of two little people who share parents and blue eyes but not much else. Even a couple of months in, I can already tell: they are two distinctly different people. They look nothing alike, they have two different temperaments, two totally different personalities. They are both feisty in their own ways: Bea is gregarious and outspoken, unapologetic and demonstrative. Elle, on the other hand, is quieter and more laid back. I remember Bea being a very shy toddler; she's grown into her extroversion. I wonder if Elle will do the same, but it wouldn't surprise me if her temperament won't sway to the "strong but quiet" side of the spectrum.
But that's not what's on my mind this morning.
I'm thinking about the fact that we're supposed to have upwards of six inches of snow on the ground starting any minute now.
Bea starts her Level 2 swimming lessons tonight; hoping the weather won't cancel them. Also thinking about the fact that I need to run to the store, and should probably do that before the snow gets bad.
And what I'm procrastinating writing about is the fact that I got an email from my dad yesterday, asking if he could come visit over spring break. He is one of the things I don't write about much. I'm sure anyone who has read my blog long enough or knows me and has talked to me for any length of time realizes what a source of conflict and hurt he's been in my life. I've been working with a counselor in the last year or so to get my head straight, and in doing that I've gained a lot of perspective on my life and capabilities. I've learned to be strong and honest, because if I am anything less, I am hurting myself, and my family in the process.
I wrote this to him (excerpted):
As for visiting... I understand that you miss us, but I need to be honest with you here: I'm not sure about it. The fact is that right now I'm not very confident in our relationship -- such as it is. As I've told you before, I've gotten through a lot of anger and resentment toward you and your actions. I don't know if you know exactly how badly your actions hurt all of us, and it's not as simple as saying "sorry, guys" and picking right back up. This is a big piece of the fallout resulting from your choices, and it is something you are going to have to live with for awhile...
I don't know if you've figured out that it's been over a year since we even talked on the phone, and June will be two years since we've seen each other. I am not sure that a visit is in my deck of cards just yet. If there's something you can tell me to change my mind, the floor's open. I've been open and honest with you regarding my feelings - brutally so, because it's the only way I can function. I need you to return that honesty, without pulling punches or using semantics or worrying about being proper or tactful. I want to find some way of having a meaningful relationship with you, but I can't do it unless I know your side of the story.
I'm listening.
But that's not what's on my mind this morning.
I'm thinking about the fact that we're supposed to have upwards of six inches of snow on the ground starting any minute now.
Bea starts her Level 2 swimming lessons tonight; hoping the weather won't cancel them. Also thinking about the fact that I need to run to the store, and should probably do that before the snow gets bad.
And what I'm procrastinating writing about is the fact that I got an email from my dad yesterday, asking if he could come visit over spring break. He is one of the things I don't write about much. I'm sure anyone who has read my blog long enough or knows me and has talked to me for any length of time realizes what a source of conflict and hurt he's been in my life. I've been working with a counselor in the last year or so to get my head straight, and in doing that I've gained a lot of perspective on my life and capabilities. I've learned to be strong and honest, because if I am anything less, I am hurting myself, and my family in the process.
I wrote this to him (excerpted):
As for visiting... I understand that you miss us, but I need to be honest with you here: I'm not sure about it. The fact is that right now I'm not very confident in our relationship -- such as it is. As I've told you before, I've gotten through a lot of anger and resentment toward you and your actions. I don't know if you know exactly how badly your actions hurt all of us, and it's not as simple as saying "sorry, guys" and picking right back up. This is a big piece of the fallout resulting from your choices, and it is something you are going to have to live with for awhile...
I don't know if you've figured out that it's been over a year since we even talked on the phone, and June will be two years since we've seen each other. I am not sure that a visit is in my deck of cards just yet. If there's something you can tell me to change my mind, the floor's open. I've been open and honest with you regarding my feelings - brutally so, because it's the only way I can function. I need you to return that honesty, without pulling punches or using semantics or worrying about being proper or tactful. I want to find some way of having a meaningful relationship with you, but I can't do it unless I know your side of the story.
I'm listening.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Naming Names
For the last couple of years, I've referred to my firstborn daughter on this blog as "The Girl." Easy enough, right? My husband is "The Boy", and that's also easy enough to distinguish. I do this to maintain privacy -- my name is out there, and if you know me, you know them, and that's fine. However, my husband's business is such that he does not want a social online presence, and I am a lioness when it comes to my kids. Therefore, it's in everyone's best interests to remain nameless.
However.
We now have a second child, who is also a girl. This complicates things. (See, even at birth, women are complicated. L2Deal, men...) How would I distinguish the two? I didn't want to call her "the baby" because she won't be one for very long, and I didn't want to give her a name and not give her sister a name, or vice-versa. So I thought about it (for about ten seconds) and came up with the following.
I have a Big Girl.
I have a Little Girl.
B.G. and L.G.
B and L.
Bea and Elle!!
Therefore! Henceforth, the Girl will be known as Bea, and the baby will be known as Elle. Both are pseudonyms, but easy, namey sort-of things, which are cute in their own girly way. I could send these names to school and the teacher wouldn't look at me in a weird way.
So. There you have it. Hope it's not too confusing for anyone.
However.
We now have a second child, who is also a girl. This complicates things. (See, even at birth, women are complicated. L2Deal, men...) How would I distinguish the two? I didn't want to call her "the baby" because she won't be one for very long, and I didn't want to give her a name and not give her sister a name, or vice-versa. So I thought about it (for about ten seconds) and came up with the following.
I have a Big Girl.
I have a Little Girl.
B.G. and L.G.
B and L.
Bea and Elle!!
Therefore! Henceforth, the Girl will be known as Bea, and the baby will be known as Elle. Both are pseudonyms, but easy, namey sort-of things, which are cute in their own girly way. I could send these names to school and the teacher wouldn't look at me in a weird way.
So. There you have it. Hope it's not too confusing for anyone.
Monday, February 2, 2009
32 Days of Ketchup
Okay wow! I just broke my own non-blogging record, and in a big, big way. Of course, I have a tremendous excuse for doing so, since I did the following:
1. Gave birth (and liveblogged it, which I will likely import over here when/if time permits);
2. Recovered from said birth (and still doing so for another ten days; post-partum is officially 42 days long according to the doc);
3. Started back to school;
4. Got the Girl started back to school;
5. Survived the usual January blast of Minnesota arctic chill; and
6. Watched the Steelers win the Super Bowl!
So I've had a busy month!
The birth itself went about as well as I could have expected, considering I had a repeat c-section. I liveblogged it and will probably eventually take that blog down and import everything over here so it can be properly archived.
School (so far) is going well. There are ups and downs to my current schedule. The major plus is that I only have ONE (yes one!) written final this term, for Evidence. I am told it's a major pain, so I will likely take as much time as I need to study for it and then take it when I'm ready. Another major plus: two of my classes are done either shortly before Easter or shortly after it, and these are the classes that meet on the weekend days this term. Score! I can handle two classes on Friday if that's the only day of the week I have to sit in class.
Downside? TWO major writing projects (a motion brief and a paper) and a mock trial to run for Trial Advocacy. I suppose it could be worse -- but it just means that each week I will have a LOT of prep work, rather than pacing through 14 weeks of reading and outlining, then 3 weeks of final crunch.
And then I'm HALFWAY done with law school! How'd that happen, y'all??
I'm sure there's more... like how the baby likes it when I sing Paul Simon and James Taylor ("Me and Julio Down By The Schoolyard" is a favorite) and how geeked I am that things are looking up in terms of a new JM album this year. I still wish I could have gone on MCC2, but I'll deal. After all, if there is a tour coming up this fall, then Santa will know what to leave in my stocking. And I STILL need to get my autographed copy of Continuum framed and hung in the baby's room.
Until then, it's me doing my thing: studying when the baby sleeps, typing one-handed when she doesn't, looking forward to longer, warmer days and enjoying the sunshine when we get it.
I must say -- I am jealous of my cousin's husband. He got to GO to the Superbowl this year and saw the boys bring home #6 in person. At the very least, he had the decency to take his dad with him to the big game, and he mentioned that it was a childhood fantasy come true. (After that 4th quarter comeback, I hope it was worth it!) I jest in my purported jealousy; it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy in all honesty.
And now I must return to my regularly scheduled day of baby-wrangling, kitchen-cleaning, laundry-folding and general de-cluttering. BBQ crockpot ribs for dinner tonight. Woo!
1. Gave birth (and liveblogged it, which I will likely import over here when/if time permits);
2. Recovered from said birth (and still doing so for another ten days; post-partum is officially 42 days long according to the doc);
3. Started back to school;
4. Got the Girl started back to school;
5. Survived the usual January blast of Minnesota arctic chill; and
6. Watched the Steelers win the Super Bowl!
So I've had a busy month!
The birth itself went about as well as I could have expected, considering I had a repeat c-section. I liveblogged it and will probably eventually take that blog down and import everything over here so it can be properly archived.
School (so far) is going well. There are ups and downs to my current schedule. The major plus is that I only have ONE (yes one!) written final this term, for Evidence. I am told it's a major pain, so I will likely take as much time as I need to study for it and then take it when I'm ready. Another major plus: two of my classes are done either shortly before Easter or shortly after it, and these are the classes that meet on the weekend days this term. Score! I can handle two classes on Friday if that's the only day of the week I have to sit in class.
Downside? TWO major writing projects (a motion brief and a paper) and a mock trial to run for Trial Advocacy. I suppose it could be worse -- but it just means that each week I will have a LOT of prep work, rather than pacing through 14 weeks of reading and outlining, then 3 weeks of final crunch.
And then I'm HALFWAY done with law school! How'd that happen, y'all??
I'm sure there's more... like how the baby likes it when I sing Paul Simon and James Taylor ("Me and Julio Down By The Schoolyard" is a favorite) and how geeked I am that things are looking up in terms of a new JM album this year. I still wish I could have gone on MCC2, but I'll deal. After all, if there is a tour coming up this fall, then Santa will know what to leave in my stocking. And I STILL need to get my autographed copy of Continuum framed and hung in the baby's room.
Until then, it's me doing my thing: studying when the baby sleeps, typing one-handed when she doesn't, looking forward to longer, warmer days and enjoying the sunshine when we get it.
I must say -- I am jealous of my cousin's husband. He got to GO to the Superbowl this year and saw the boys bring home #6 in person. At the very least, he had the decency to take his dad with him to the big game, and he mentioned that it was a childhood fantasy come true. (After that 4th quarter comeback, I hope it was worth it!) I jest in my purported jealousy; it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy in all honesty.
And now I must return to my regularly scheduled day of baby-wrangling, kitchen-cleaning, laundry-folding and general de-cluttering. BBQ crockpot ribs for dinner tonight. Woo!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
And Now She Is Six
Dear Girl,
Today is your sixth birthday.
I'm rather remiss this year, writing to you at 10:10pm, after the festivities are finished, after both birthday and Christmas are retired for yet another year. You are sitting on the couch right now, in your new pink penguin pajamas, playing with yet another obnoxious electronic game, the fascination of which is something you've managed to gain this year. (Streaks of your father in you, no doubt.)
Even if I could have predicted the roller-coaster ride my life would take over the last twelve months, I don't know if I would have done anything differently in being your mom. I found myself being purposeful in my actions toward you; trying my best not to take out frustration or outside hurt on you. You are as ever my bright, blonde shining star, even when it seems you don't want to hear what I have to say.
I was so excited to have you along for the ride during our summer trips this year. You were aware enough to ask questions about the things you saw in the airport and the reasons why things appeared outside your car window. You tease me about my musical obsessions, saying things like "Mommy, you love John Mayer!" And when I tell you "no, I love John Mayer's music; I love Daddy" you simply giggle and roll your eyes, a mere shadow of the teenager brewing inside and awaiting her debut in six short years.
You're halfway there, Girl. Take it easy on us for a little while, won't you?
Last year's letter could also have never predicted the fact that you will become a big sister in a little less than a week. When we told you that we would have a new baby, you found out on the same day we did. I took the fateful test, had a private conversation with your dad, and then we looked at each other and simply called you into the room. The last seven and a half months or so have been filled with questions from you, mostly to do with when the baby would come (after your birthday), whether it would be a brother or sister (sister, as evidenced by the ultrasound you got to witness in August, and I will never forget your expression and giggle as you watched the alien ballet on the screen while the technician scanned my belly), and reminders that you will be a good helper, and will remember to keep your toys off the floor.
I suppose I'll be writing another of these letters next week, and your presence in our new baby's life will be paramount. She will look up to you, and, one big sister to another, it will be your job to talk to her when she won't talk to me, as much as I hate to think either of you would ever be in that position. Until that time, my sweet Girl, enjoy your world of princesses and imagination, and be willing to share it with your sister when she asks.
Another situation I could never have fathomed was your need for speech therapy. It came upon me not long ago that some of your adorable proclivities weren't resolving themselves, and true enough, the school's analysis rang true. I believe you will grow out of it; I believe half of your issue is that you are thinking at twice the speed your mouth will move. But I also believe you are you, and you will adjust in your own time, just as you always have. You'll start the therapy when you return to school in January for the second half of Kindergarten, and you'll tackle it with aplomb, just as you swam circles around the other kids in your Level 1 swimming class this fall.
I am, as ever, inordinately proud of your growth, physically, intellectually and emotionally. This year will be another of firsts, from learning to live with a new baby, to riding your bike without training wheels, to advancing in swimming lessons and perhaps tackling a new activity (dance or basketball? Whatever you'd like, my Girl.) Sometimes you'll win, and sometimes you'll lose. You won't always be top of your class, or the best, or the most special. Learn your moments and take pride that you have done your own best. I always will.
The world is your oyster, and you are a pearl in it. Never ever doubt that; for even as imperfect as they sometimes are, they each contribute beauty and depth to the world, in their own special way.
I love you, my dear, sweet, firstborn Girl. Happy Sixth Birthday.
Love,
Mommy
Today is your sixth birthday.
I'm rather remiss this year, writing to you at 10:10pm, after the festivities are finished, after both birthday and Christmas are retired for yet another year. You are sitting on the couch right now, in your new pink penguin pajamas, playing with yet another obnoxious electronic game, the fascination of which is something you've managed to gain this year. (Streaks of your father in you, no doubt.)
Even if I could have predicted the roller-coaster ride my life would take over the last twelve months, I don't know if I would have done anything differently in being your mom. I found myself being purposeful in my actions toward you; trying my best not to take out frustration or outside hurt on you. You are as ever my bright, blonde shining star, even when it seems you don't want to hear what I have to say.
I was so excited to have you along for the ride during our summer trips this year. You were aware enough to ask questions about the things you saw in the airport and the reasons why things appeared outside your car window. You tease me about my musical obsessions, saying things like "Mommy, you love John Mayer!" And when I tell you "no, I love John Mayer's music; I love Daddy" you simply giggle and roll your eyes, a mere shadow of the teenager brewing inside and awaiting her debut in six short years.
You're halfway there, Girl. Take it easy on us for a little while, won't you?
Last year's letter could also have never predicted the fact that you will become a big sister in a little less than a week. When we told you that we would have a new baby, you found out on the same day we did. I took the fateful test, had a private conversation with your dad, and then we looked at each other and simply called you into the room. The last seven and a half months or so have been filled with questions from you, mostly to do with when the baby would come (after your birthday), whether it would be a brother or sister (sister, as evidenced by the ultrasound you got to witness in August, and I will never forget your expression and giggle as you watched the alien ballet on the screen while the technician scanned my belly), and reminders that you will be a good helper, and will remember to keep your toys off the floor.
I suppose I'll be writing another of these letters next week, and your presence in our new baby's life will be paramount. She will look up to you, and, one big sister to another, it will be your job to talk to her when she won't talk to me, as much as I hate to think either of you would ever be in that position. Until that time, my sweet Girl, enjoy your world of princesses and imagination, and be willing to share it with your sister when she asks.
Another situation I could never have fathomed was your need for speech therapy. It came upon me not long ago that some of your adorable proclivities weren't resolving themselves, and true enough, the school's analysis rang true. I believe you will grow out of it; I believe half of your issue is that you are thinking at twice the speed your mouth will move. But I also believe you are you, and you will adjust in your own time, just as you always have. You'll start the therapy when you return to school in January for the second half of Kindergarten, and you'll tackle it with aplomb, just as you swam circles around the other kids in your Level 1 swimming class this fall.
I am, as ever, inordinately proud of your growth, physically, intellectually and emotionally. This year will be another of firsts, from learning to live with a new baby, to riding your bike without training wheels, to advancing in swimming lessons and perhaps tackling a new activity (dance or basketball? Whatever you'd like, my Girl.) Sometimes you'll win, and sometimes you'll lose. You won't always be top of your class, or the best, or the most special. Learn your moments and take pride that you have done your own best. I always will.
The world is your oyster, and you are a pearl in it. Never ever doubt that; for even as imperfect as they sometimes are, they each contribute beauty and depth to the world, in their own special way.
I love you, my dear, sweet, firstborn Girl. Happy Sixth Birthday.
Love,
Mommy
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Grateful
I give grateful thanks for the following things:
A healthy babe.
A beautiful Girl.
The most fantastic Boy on the planet.
Family, forever and always.
Friends new and old.
The gift of education.
And the countless blessings which I enjoy on a daily basis. Make no mistake, I am a richly blessed woman. Happy Thanksgiving to all, and may you all have as much to give thanks for as I.
"Lord, for the erring thought
Not into evil wrought:
Lord, for the wicked will
Betrayed and baffled still;
For the heart from itself kept,
Our thanksgiving accept."
-- William Dean Howells
A healthy babe.
A beautiful Girl.
The most fantastic Boy on the planet.
Family, forever and always.
Friends new and old.
The gift of education.
And the countless blessings which I enjoy on a daily basis. Make no mistake, I am a richly blessed woman. Happy Thanksgiving to all, and may you all have as much to give thanks for as I.
"Lord, for the erring thought
Not into evil wrought:
Lord, for the wicked will
Betrayed and baffled still;
For the heart from itself kept,
Our thanksgiving accept."
-- William Dean Howells
Thursday, October 9, 2008
When I'm Sixty-Four
When I get older, losing my hair
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I'd been out till quarter to three, would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?
"When I'm Sixty-Four"The Beatles
I need to call my mother-in-law. She's 64 today. Funny how you mark time in another person's age: I remember how old she is by thinking about the fact that they boy and I had our first date the day before her 50th birthday in 1994. Therefore, she was born in 1944. Therefore, I can calculate her age based on the current year. Sound convoluted? Perhaps. It's one more example of my addled thought process.
She really is a blessing in my life. Perhaps the fact that we met when I was so young solidified her standing with me -- when my own mom wasn't someone I wanted to talk to about something, my mother-in-law was always one for a cup of tea and a good chat. It's still one of the first things we do whenever we get together: amazing how much is cured and talked over and accomplished with some face time and freshly brewed chamomile. I nearly always send email to her with the salutation "Dear Favorite MIL" -- it's a bit tongue in cheek but it's true. So many of my friends drew the short ends of the stick when it came to their mothers-in-law: whether it was a clash of personality or a different family's way of doing things, it can be an inevitably difficult relationship.
I have the best of both worlds: a mom who is awesome, and a mother in law who is awesome too.
Happy Birthday, Favorite MIL. I hope I can be all you are when I'm sixty-four.
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I'd been out till quarter to three, would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?
"When I'm Sixty-Four"The Beatles
I need to call my mother-in-law. She's 64 today. Funny how you mark time in another person's age: I remember how old she is by thinking about the fact that they boy and I had our first date the day before her 50th birthday in 1994. Therefore, she was born in 1944. Therefore, I can calculate her age based on the current year. Sound convoluted? Perhaps. It's one more example of my addled thought process.
She really is a blessing in my life. Perhaps the fact that we met when I was so young solidified her standing with me -- when my own mom wasn't someone I wanted to talk to about something, my mother-in-law was always one for a cup of tea and a good chat. It's still one of the first things we do whenever we get together: amazing how much is cured and talked over and accomplished with some face time and freshly brewed chamomile. I nearly always send email to her with the salutation "Dear Favorite MIL" -- it's a bit tongue in cheek but it's true. So many of my friends drew the short ends of the stick when it came to their mothers-in-law: whether it was a clash of personality or a different family's way of doing things, it can be an inevitably difficult relationship.
I have the best of both worlds: a mom who is awesome, and a mother in law who is awesome too.
Happy Birthday, Favorite MIL. I hope I can be all you are when I'm sixty-four.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Sunday Night
It's Sunday night, and I'm feeling rather peaceful.
The girl is bathed and fed, and is now watching her umpteenth episode of Spongebob whilst happily munching on blueberries, a substitute for a third (!!) piece of pizza or MOAR DUNKERS, MOM.
We ordered pizza for dinner. The kitchen is now clean, and I rearranged the pantry, which was reaching crisis point for disorganization. For some reason the shelves like to throw up of their own volition and things end up on the floor in there, to be discovered months later when one is searching for the reusable bags in an effort to be environmentally responsible at the grocery store.
We went to a very fancy party last night, a grown-ups only affair in honor of Jon and Julia's engagement. It was a lovely time, and I had the chance to do up my hairs and put on a sparkly frock and peep-toe heels. I actually wore makeup, for the first time in about a year (I think.)
The girl stayed at a friend's house from school, and said friend has a lovely little girl, around nine months old. Apparently the girl got a taste of what life would be like when 2.0 goes from theoretical probability to actual, real life baby. I have a feeling we'll have a rude awakening. On the plus side, my friend said that the girl was awesome and very cute.
If I can get ahead on Family Law and Con Law, I plan to volunteer for Obama on Tuesday night. Other highlights for this week: Robin Williams in concert on Thursday, and a shrimp boil on Saturday night with the boy's coworkers.
Six weeks into school and the novelty's definitely worn off. I need (NEED)to get my binders reorganized, and start getting ready to outline. We have a Property midterm in two weeks and I haven't even thought of it. On top of which, a Family Law paper... and yeah...then there's this impending thing that keeps kicking me in the innards and reminding me that this is supposed to be the easy semester.
And for those interested...the OB stats from last week's 24(?) week appointment:
BP: 117/70
Fetal HR: 150
Fundal Height: 27
Maternal Weight: +5 (+4 overall during pregnancy)
Glucose challenge at my next visit...oh the joy of drinking flat orange soda and then giving vials upon vials of blood... the lab monkeys will just LURVVE me...
The girl is bathed and fed, and is now watching her umpteenth episode of Spongebob whilst happily munching on blueberries, a substitute for a third (!!) piece of pizza or MOAR DUNKERS, MOM.
We ordered pizza for dinner. The kitchen is now clean, and I rearranged the pantry, which was reaching crisis point for disorganization. For some reason the shelves like to throw up of their own volition and things end up on the floor in there, to be discovered months later when one is searching for the reusable bags in an effort to be environmentally responsible at the grocery store.
We went to a very fancy party last night, a grown-ups only affair in honor of Jon and Julia's engagement. It was a lovely time, and I had the chance to do up my hairs and put on a sparkly frock and peep-toe heels. I actually wore makeup, for the first time in about a year (I think.)
The girl stayed at a friend's house from school, and said friend has a lovely little girl, around nine months old. Apparently the girl got a taste of what life would be like when 2.0 goes from theoretical probability to actual, real life baby. I have a feeling we'll have a rude awakening. On the plus side, my friend said that the girl was awesome and very cute.
If I can get ahead on Family Law and Con Law, I plan to volunteer for Obama on Tuesday night. Other highlights for this week: Robin Williams in concert on Thursday, and a shrimp boil on Saturday night with the boy's coworkers.
Six weeks into school and the novelty's definitely worn off. I need (NEED)to get my binders reorganized, and start getting ready to outline. We have a Property midterm in two weeks and I haven't even thought of it. On top of which, a Family Law paper... and yeah...then there's this impending thing that keeps kicking me in the innards and reminding me that this is supposed to be the easy semester.
And for those interested...the OB stats from last week's 24(?) week appointment:
BP: 117/70
Fetal HR: 150
Fundal Height: 27
Maternal Weight: +5 (+4 overall during pregnancy)
Glucose challenge at my next visit...oh the joy of drinking flat orange soda and then giving vials upon vials of blood... the lab monkeys will just LURVVE me...
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Swollen
My belly is swollen.
My feet are swollen, and have been since 9:30 this morning. My internal thermostat is also off -- I'll be freezing, then sweating, then freezing, then fine, but warm to the touch.
My hands are also starting to swell.
I am going to take a cool shower and then get a good night's sleep, and in the morning if I'm not un-swollen, I'm going to go to student health and have my blood pressure checked, and if it's high, I'm going to call my OB. I have an appointment on Thursday anyway but I generally trust my gut when it comes to my health. Since I'm so rarely sick, I know when I feel this way I should pay attention, especially since pregnancy brings its own set of weirdnesses -- what is one day a freak occurrence can turn into something serious very quickly. Granted, I've done this before, and I'm probably more laid back than a lot of other people about it, but like I said, gut reaction.
I am planning to clean up my eating a bit more in the next few months -- laying off the soda and sodium, caffeine and chocolate. I figure if I can lay a little groundwork now, I can hit the ground running, swimming, and biking after the baby is born. We've already got the strollers purchased (yes, plural -- I have my jog stroller from the girl, and we just bought a pram for the first six months), and I also have YakTrax for my shoes, so going for a stroll on "warmer" winter days will be doable. I also need to figure out how to get back into the pool - I can walk or do the elliptical with the bouncy seat or stroller next to me. The search for a sitter is on!
I will compete next year, and with any luck, better than ever. I want to break 1:50 at Danskin, and I want to do an Olympic. Sooz challenged me to a half Ironman, but I can't fathom that, even in the best of circumstances next year. I think I'd be satisfied with running a half mary at the end of next season, then ramping up to a half sometime next season.
I want my kids to be proud of me, and I want to set an example. I want to be able to write a story like this. More than that, I want to do this for myself. Because any other excuse isn't enough. It's not about a number on the scale, it's about my performance and training and knowing that I can *maybe* look in the mirror and be okay with what I see.
My feet are swollen, and have been since 9:30 this morning. My internal thermostat is also off -- I'll be freezing, then sweating, then freezing, then fine, but warm to the touch.
My hands are also starting to swell.
I am going to take a cool shower and then get a good night's sleep, and in the morning if I'm not un-swollen, I'm going to go to student health and have my blood pressure checked, and if it's high, I'm going to call my OB. I have an appointment on Thursday anyway but I generally trust my gut when it comes to my health. Since I'm so rarely sick, I know when I feel this way I should pay attention, especially since pregnancy brings its own set of weirdnesses -- what is one day a freak occurrence can turn into something serious very quickly. Granted, I've done this before, and I'm probably more laid back than a lot of other people about it, but like I said, gut reaction.
I am planning to clean up my eating a bit more in the next few months -- laying off the soda and sodium, caffeine and chocolate. I figure if I can lay a little groundwork now, I can hit the ground running, swimming, and biking after the baby is born. We've already got the strollers purchased (yes, plural -- I have my jog stroller from the girl, and we just bought a pram for the first six months), and I also have YakTrax for my shoes, so going for a stroll on "warmer" winter days will be doable. I also need to figure out how to get back into the pool - I can walk or do the elliptical with the bouncy seat or stroller next to me. The search for a sitter is on!
I will compete next year, and with any luck, better than ever. I want to break 1:50 at Danskin, and I want to do an Olympic. Sooz challenged me to a half Ironman, but I can't fathom that, even in the best of circumstances next year. I think I'd be satisfied with running a half mary at the end of next season, then ramping up to a half sometime next season.
I want my kids to be proud of me, and I want to set an example. I want to be able to write a story like this. More than that, I want to do this for myself. Because any other excuse isn't enough. It's not about a number on the scale, it's about my performance and training and knowing that I can *maybe* look in the mirror and be okay with what I see.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Changes
Who'd have guessed I'd learn to let the walls around me burn
Light up the hillside
My words, I ate them for so long and nothing changed...it was just the same
And I don't know if you see me here, but I can tell you your face is clear
I will see you...
Forever, forever
I will see you...forever, forever
I wanted you to be everything to me, now I've got to learn to carry on
I know I cannot hide this emptiness inside,
But nothing is the same since you've gone
"Forever" -- Vertical Horizon
The last few weeks have been a study in change. I returned from a trip to Florida to find that the last throes of summer in Minnesota had left in my absence, and left a trail of cool winds and 65 degree temperatures in their wake. It's as if the State Fair closed, and the carnies took the summer with them as they towed the midway rides off to their next engagement.
The baby has begun to kick more noticeably and more frequently. I'm beginning to follow her rhythms of activity and rest, and the movements no longer feel spontaneous or erratic. She's learning her own circadian cycle and it's quite interesting to note that I can now recognize her patterns, something I never knew to watch for with the girl.
Speaking of whom, the girl started kindergarten yesterday. She gets to ride the bus and pack a lunch, and we are working on our school and chore routines. So far, so good. She came home yesterday with a glowing report and this morning was after us to go out to the bus stop a full 45 minutes prior to bus time. I hope the enthusiasm carries forward.
My sister and her husband have decided to divorce. There was a bit of limbo for awhile, and the decision was made after a few months' contemplation. Apparently they came to the conclusion a couple days ago and, while it is never an easy thing to see a couple part, nor is it a good thing to see my sister hurting, I hope the decision is for the best.
The fact that both my parents and now my sister are divorcing in the last year makes me want to run home and cling tighter to the boy -- with all I'm worth. I can't imagine loving someone for as long as I've loved him, sharing a life and a bed and a family for as long as we have, and then turning it all over into sadness and acrimony. I can't say how long we'll last -- but I can say we will always be a work in progress.
As for me, my changes are physical and educational... after a massive growth spurt in the last two weeks, I am officially full-time into maternity shirts and am working my way out of my regular jeans. I have a feeling I will be into my maternity jeans this time next month. School is so much better this year -- perhaps it's all the work I did last term, but I'm feeling more solid academically, I have a much better mindset, and things are looking up. I'm watching the change of weather, knowing things will stay green for awhile, and preparing for the leaves of fall.
Light up the hillside
My words, I ate them for so long and nothing changed...it was just the same
And I don't know if you see me here, but I can tell you your face is clear
I will see you...
Forever, forever
I will see you...forever, forever
I wanted you to be everything to me, now I've got to learn to carry on
I know I cannot hide this emptiness inside,
But nothing is the same since you've gone
"Forever" -- Vertical Horizon
The last few weeks have been a study in change. I returned from a trip to Florida to find that the last throes of summer in Minnesota had left in my absence, and left a trail of cool winds and 65 degree temperatures in their wake. It's as if the State Fair closed, and the carnies took the summer with them as they towed the midway rides off to their next engagement.
The baby has begun to kick more noticeably and more frequently. I'm beginning to follow her rhythms of activity and rest, and the movements no longer feel spontaneous or erratic. She's learning her own circadian cycle and it's quite interesting to note that I can now recognize her patterns, something I never knew to watch for with the girl.
Speaking of whom, the girl started kindergarten yesterday. She gets to ride the bus and pack a lunch, and we are working on our school and chore routines. So far, so good. She came home yesterday with a glowing report and this morning was after us to go out to the bus stop a full 45 minutes prior to bus time. I hope the enthusiasm carries forward.
My sister and her husband have decided to divorce. There was a bit of limbo for awhile, and the decision was made after a few months' contemplation. Apparently they came to the conclusion a couple days ago and, while it is never an easy thing to see a couple part, nor is it a good thing to see my sister hurting, I hope the decision is for the best.
The fact that both my parents and now my sister are divorcing in the last year makes me want to run home and cling tighter to the boy -- with all I'm worth. I can't imagine loving someone for as long as I've loved him, sharing a life and a bed and a family for as long as we have, and then turning it all over into sadness and acrimony. I can't say how long we'll last -- but I can say we will always be a work in progress.
As for me, my changes are physical and educational... after a massive growth spurt in the last two weeks, I am officially full-time into maternity shirts and am working my way out of my regular jeans. I have a feeling I will be into my maternity jeans this time next month. School is so much better this year -- perhaps it's all the work I did last term, but I'm feeling more solid academically, I have a much better mindset, and things are looking up. I'm watching the change of weather, knowing things will stay green for awhile, and preparing for the leaves of fall.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Ultrasound, v 2.0
This is what I did yesterday morning.
The ultrasound experience is nothing new to me -- I did it at least 3-4 times with the Girl and this is the second one for the Bean. I was a bit disappointed with this one- the monitor was faced directly away from the exam table so I wasn't able to see most of the exam itself. Eventually the tech turned the monitor toward me and I got to see the Bean in motion. I will say that what I saw was just as cool as every other time I've seen a fetus of mine up on the screen. As you can see, she's become less bean than baby.
And yes, the use of the female pronoun here is indicative that there is a very strong chance that this bean is also a girl.
I've mentioned it before, but the confirmation of gender brings me to a weird place -- essentially it means I have emulated my family of origin. (My sister and I are approximately six years apart -- roughly the same as my girls will be.) I don't think I did this on purpose -- matter of fact, there's really no way that I did it on purpose. It really threw me for a loop -- last night the boy and I went to bed and he asked me how I was feeling about having another girl. It really threw me for a bit of an anxiety bender, and it brought up a lot of things I hadn't thought through -- I think I was getting used to the idea of having a boy (this pregnancy has been so drastically different than my first...and I'm in a better position to know how to handle an infant).
I don't know that I would want a third child at this point -- and I don't know that I would want to go for another baby just to try for a son. I don't know if it's selfish that I wouldn't want to give up another triathlon season, or that if we had another baby, I'd want to do it almost right away (seriously, at this point, an eighteen month delay wouldn't be a bad thing.)
I'm not disappointed that the bean is a girl -- not by a long shot. Having a sister is an amazing blessing for any girl. If we had a third child, I'd be fine with it...the boy and I have talked about two or three from the get-go. I think the worst part of this whole thing is that I feel like I should be happy and excited, and all I feel is confused and just...weird. There's absolutely no pressure from his family to "carry on the family name" and the Boy told me last night he likes the idea of being surrounded by "his girls."
I just wish I knew better how I felt...I wish I could pinpoint it. I know I'm happy that the Bean is, by all accounts healthy and growing, and I'm happy that the girl is excited to have a baby sister. For now, that's what I have to rely on.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Half Baked
Had my 20 week OB appointment this morning, and according to the doc, all is well for another four weeks. Ultrasound is next week and we are going to find out the gender of the baby. I don't mind knowing this time around -- the novelty wore off after the first one, and I have a need to plan due to limited space and limited planning time. The boy is in agreement, and I think the family is quite thrilled. If, however, I receive oodles of pink and frilly madness upon the news of a female, I shall scream.
We have preliminarily decided upon names, which of course will not be broadcasted here, in continuation of my privacy policy. They are very nice names.
BP: 122/68
Weight: +3 since the last appointment, -5 total.
Fundal Height: 20/21 cm (right on track)
Fetal HR: 150
The thing that was most remarkable about this visit was the utter difficulty in finding the baby's heartrate. The doc chased around my belly for a good couple minutes and ended up using a second dollop of gel before she finally found the baby. I was almost to the point of worry, especially since I haven't felt much in the way of real movement yet, but we finally caught the little stinker and the heart sounded normal and strong. It seems my body has a talent for making babies, and this one seems to be no exception.
I'm halfway done with this pregnancy, and that seems hard to believe. In four weeks, the baby would be potentially viable if I were to go into pre-term labor. In six weeks, the baby would have a better than average chance of survival, and I will officially be in my third trimester. In eight weeks, I will be staring down midterms and outlines. It will be fall in Minnesota, and I will be wearing maternity jeans with my autumn sweaters.
And now, I must finish the Property reading I avoided yesterday, and get going on Family Law, before my 2:30 class this afternoon. Ah, the joys of law school...
We have preliminarily decided upon names, which of course will not be broadcasted here, in continuation of my privacy policy. They are very nice names.
BP: 122/68
Weight: +3 since the last appointment, -5 total.
Fundal Height: 20/21 cm (right on track)
Fetal HR: 150
The thing that was most remarkable about this visit was the utter difficulty in finding the baby's heartrate. The doc chased around my belly for a good couple minutes and ended up using a second dollop of gel before she finally found the baby. I was almost to the point of worry, especially since I haven't felt much in the way of real movement yet, but we finally caught the little stinker and the heart sounded normal and strong. It seems my body has a talent for making babies, and this one seems to be no exception.
I'm halfway done with this pregnancy, and that seems hard to believe. In four weeks, the baby would be potentially viable if I were to go into pre-term labor. In six weeks, the baby would have a better than average chance of survival, and I will officially be in my third trimester. In eight weeks, I will be staring down midterms and outlines. It will be fall in Minnesota, and I will be wearing maternity jeans with my autumn sweaters.
And now, I must finish the Property reading I avoided yesterday, and get going on Family Law, before my 2:30 class this afternoon. Ah, the joys of law school...
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Cowboy Music
So I'm sitting in the basement student lounge at school, blatantly ignoring my Property homework, and listening to Pandora.
I've got the classical station on, because it's usually good to have as background music whilst delving into legal minutiae. The lounge is filling up with freshly minted 1L's, still hopelessly optimistic and just released from their 9:30 classes.
I am drawn from my Mozart-induced coma by a loud, brash combination of winds and strings, and am immediately drawn to the Old West. It's Copland, sending me to the land of Clint Eastwood, spaghetti Westerns and tumbleweed-infested saloons in a way only he can. I don't know how one composer can embody a spirit, a time, an imagery the way Copland does with the Western spirit, but if there is a quintessential American composer, one that brings forth barn-raisings, Conestoga wagons and Stetson hats in the mind of the listerner, it's him. (Horrible runon sentence, that. Sorry.)
Most people would know the particular piece as the "Beef! It's what's for dinner!" song, but I know it by its given name (Ballet Rodeo) and specifically by movement (#3: Hoedown).
Copland goes beyond "Rodeo" for me though. Appalachian Spring is a favorite, and its "Variations on a Shaker Hymn" (Simple Gifts) is a three minute journey to the ever-possible.
My dad loves Copland. I think I was inculcated by the time I was five. It hasn't left me. It's probably one of those things I don't mind having in common with him.
I've got the classical station on, because it's usually good to have as background music whilst delving into legal minutiae. The lounge is filling up with freshly minted 1L's, still hopelessly optimistic and just released from their 9:30 classes.
I am drawn from my Mozart-induced coma by a loud, brash combination of winds and strings, and am immediately drawn to the Old West. It's Copland, sending me to the land of Clint Eastwood, spaghetti Westerns and tumbleweed-infested saloons in a way only he can. I don't know how one composer can embody a spirit, a time, an imagery the way Copland does with the Western spirit, but if there is a quintessential American composer, one that brings forth barn-raisings, Conestoga wagons and Stetson hats in the mind of the listerner, it's him. (Horrible runon sentence, that. Sorry.)
Most people would know the particular piece as the "Beef! It's what's for dinner!" song, but I know it by its given name (Ballet Rodeo) and specifically by movement (#3: Hoedown).
Copland goes beyond "Rodeo" for me though. Appalachian Spring is a favorite, and its "Variations on a Shaker Hymn" (Simple Gifts) is a three minute journey to the ever-possible.
My dad loves Copland. I think I was inculcated by the time I was five. It hasn't left me. It's probably one of those things I don't mind having in common with him.
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