Happy Berfday to Me!

Thank God for Facebook because I pretty much entirely forgot today is my birthday.

I've been a wee bit busy.

But I logged on this morning and was floored by all the birthday wishes. Lots and lots of love. And yes, I cried a little. Are you surprised, really? I figure I can't listen to the radio, watch sappy commercials or any episodes of Glee or Extreme Home Makeover until my hormones stabilize.

What am I NOT teary over? Getting older. Today I'm 33. I don't want to be perpetually 29. And my early 20's? Fugeddaboutit. You couldn't pay me to do that again. Except for the sleeping in part. Yeah, that would be okay.

Right now is good. It's where I'm supposed to be, I can't imagine things differently. I don't lead a glamourous life. Things are most definitely not perfect. But I'm content. Content, for me, is way better than over the moon happy. Super happy makes me nervous. I walk around waiting for the other shoe to drop. Am I a pessimist? My preferred term is REALIST.

Today has been nice and mellow. It's sunny and beautiful outside. My husband is home and planting my vegetable garden (awesome gift, no?). Baby C had a newborn photo shoot this morning. G has been helping Daddy outside and is covered head to toe in dirt. I'm thinking we'll barbecue tonight.

To some, this may sound boring. But I think it sounds perfect.

Happy birthday to me, indeed.

On Blogging

When I try to explain to some of my 'in real life' friends (and family) about the friends I've made through blogging, I get blank stares back. Crickets. Maybe a 'that's nice'.

To be quite honest, before I got into blogging, I probably would have reacted the same. In fact, I KNOW I would have been skeptical.

Over the last two-ish years, I can honestly say I've made some of the greatest friends online. Many of whom I've gone on to meet in real life. I've actually gotten on a plane and flown away to stay with people that I know nothing about, save our email conversations and what I've read on their blogs.

Thankfully, they were not ax murderers.

In my former life - meaning the life I had when I worked out of the home from 9-5 and didn't have time to email, let alone blog - the whole concept of online community was foreign,. and let's face it, WEIRD to me.

But strange things start to happen in your head when you're suddenly laid off and a stay at home mom. You feel isolated. Adult conversations are few and far between. And in real life? I'm a little shy. So meeting other moms, or even women I could relate to at all, was difficult. I'd go to the playground and try to strike up conversation, but that would usually go nowhere. My son and I had fun at playgroups...but playgroups usually consisted of me running around like a madwoman after my child. So there's not a whole lot of opportunity for meaningful conversation.

Online? I'm free to jump around to different sites. Meet people that have common interests. Have long email exchanges that fill a bit of the void I sometimes feel socially. So now, what started out as a way to feel less lonely, has blossomed and grown into some true friendships. Real life friendships.

It's pretty awesome.

This week has been stressful. I've been struggling with being super uncomfortably pregnant, tired, stressed over being prepared for baby. Things were not coming together in a fashion that was making me happy - meaning, perfectly.

On Friday morning, I was running around like a madwoman and I got an email alert on my phone. I opened it up and started crying.

My girlfriends, my online girlfriends, had gotten together and sent me the BEST baby gift ever. A gift certificate to Dream Dinners.

Why was I crying (happy tears of course)? Because these women, some whom I've never laid eyes upon, know me so well that they knew WHAT I needed, even though I had no idea.

I needed something taken off my plate. I needed to be taken care of.

And more than that, I know they put a ton of thought into that gift.

More than the gift itself, can I just say that knowing I'm loved is the best? I needed that too, so much.

I am not discounting my wonderful, long time, real life friends in any way. Because I adore them more than anything. They are my family. My sisters.

But it is so beautiful adding to that family. And I truly believe that in the last few years, the love and the friendship in my life has expanded exponentially. And it's real.

So when I get the skeptical looks over blogging and 'online' friendships, do I get upset? No. Because I know what it means to me and how it's brought so much good to my life.

Hey Duff, Check It.

I think I have found my new vocation.

I'm going to go work at Charm City Cakes. I think Duff would totally hire me.


Okay, maybe not.

However, I did learn a few things from my foray into cake making.

1) The professional grade food coloring is the bomb. And it also will stain your skin for a very, very long time.

2) I need a spinny platform thingy to frost properly.

3) It does not take very long to get tired of eating frosting.

4) There are a bazillion different types of decorating tips. I have a headache just thinking about it. I did manage to find one that makes grass and then found one to edge the cake and a wee one for writing. Writing, by the way, was the hardest part, by far.

5) A homemade cake - you think it would save you money - um, no. Not after purchasing all the fancy decorating tools. But at least I have them in my arsenal. They'll pay for themselves....in about 15 years.

6) Worth it? Oh, heck yes!

Look at that face! I'll go elbow deep in frosting ANY DAY for a smile like that.

Two Years Ago Today: Part II

On January 22, 2008, I started the day (or VERY early morning) staggering into the maternity ward at the hospital. But not after getting lost because we did not know where we were supposed to check in.

Did I mention we didn't take a baby class or a hospital tour? Yeah. Whoops.

Luckily, I did manage to pre-register, so when I waddled up to the check in desk, in the midst of a mind bending contraction, B was able to tell them my name and I was admitted right away.

And as soon as I got into the room, I puked. Again. Tater tot casserole. Mmmm.

There really wasn't much of a question as to whether or not I wanted an epidural, especially since I was in so much pain at 4 centimeters. I had all intentions of seeing how far I could go without drugs. For reals. But between vomiting every time I had a contraction, and the fact that I didn't seem to have any lull BETWEEN contractions (I found out later I was having back labor), I was pretty much asking my husband to draw a target on my lower back with a sharpie.

Epidural. NOW. Ahhhh.

I could have made out with the anesthesiologist.

My doctor came about an hour later and since I wasn't really progressing, he ordered pitocin. The pitocin, well, it made my contractions worse. As in I could feel them through the drugs.

Four to five hours later, I had just finally made it to an eight. They broke my water, and I was supposed to get more pitocin. But the head nurse (who was a major pain in the ass, and treated my husband like he was an idiot) made the executive decision to hold off on the pit because I was 'non-emergent'. Meaning, my baby wasn't crowning. I guess the full moon had brought in laboring women in droves. Thirteen women were admitted after I was and their babies were born before I delivered.

So, my pitocin was put on hold. And I'm pretty sure she forgot about it. Another nurse helped me roll to my other side, and then the fetal monitor sounded funny. As in, it slowed way WAY down.

I was in a haze, between the epidural and sheer exhaustion, but the look on my husbands face and the fact that my sister in law had tears in her eyes, well, I knew something was wrong.

The baby's heart rate had dropped from 160 to 80. And it wasn't coming up.

The nurses flipped me back to my other side and his heart rate came back up, slowly. Whew. But, at this point, the doctor made the decision that the baby had to come out. Immediately.

I was prepped for surgery. My mom and sister-in-law helped B get dressed in his scrubs. Poor guy - he was terrified. As was I.

The doctor who was to perform the surgery was not my regular OB, but I had met with him. And I knew I liked him - and I discovered I liked him even better when he straight off started cracking jokes in the operating room and tried to put me at ease.

It worked. Well, I'm sure being numbed from the chest down didn't hurt either. Something about being completely numb was strangely comforting for me. I know some people don't like it, but after all the previous pain, I was relieved.

Within 45 minutes of the decision to perform a C-Section, we met our little boy for the first time.


Even though the birth was disappointing, nothing could take away from the magic of the moment. He came out screaming, and peed all over the doctor. My first glimpse of him told me that he looked JUST like his Daddy.

Our George.


I can still smell that delicious baby smell, and hear the little tiny baby coos.

Today, my baby turns TWO YEARS OLD.

The sweet baby smell has been replaced by little boy smells - not bad, just different - and the little coos are now full fledged words.

'No, Mommy.'
'Mommy, watchu doin'?'
'Are you kiddin' me?' (I kid you not, he said this last week).

He's a little boy who loves dancing to Jack's Big Music Show. He jumps more than he walks. He spends a lot of time coloring at his easel...and on the walls. He's slightly obsessed with Diego. He tries to hug and kiss his dogs. He gives his Daddy high fives and is a champion snuggler. He won't eat chicken nuggets, but devours avocado, green beans and tofu with gusto.


He's the G-Rex. He's ours. He's two (Sob!).

Happy Birthday to my little man!

Two Years Ago Today: Part I

Two years ago today, I was very pregnant.

I told you. VERY PREGNANT. Ouch. Just looking at that photo makes my lower back hurt and my feet swell up.

That morning, I had a doctor's appointment where I was told I was 1 centimeter and 50% effaced.

'When?' I practically begged.

To which my doctor cheerfully replied 'Could be up to one or two weeks. We will induce you in two weeks if you haven't delivered.'

I have never been so irrationally angry in my life. I had high hopes. I'd had a weird crampy stomachache all morning - the drive to the doctor was particularly uncomfortable. Since I'd had no Braxton Hicks the entire pregnancy, I wasn't sure if that's what I was experiencing.

After getting dressed in my horrid gray velour sweatsuit (the only thing that fit me), I stormed out to my car and proceeded to call my husband, sobbing.

He didn't seem phased. I think he was used to his crazy pregnant wife at this point.

I calmed down, went and got a latte and a scone, and started feeling a little better. And incredibly nesty.

First stop, Lowes. I picked up light bulbs because I remembered we had a bunch of lights that had burned out in the house.

Next, Fred Meyer, where I picked up some totally unnecessary jammies for the baby, and stuff for dinner. I was making tater tot casserole (don't judge!), one for that night and one to freeze.

Once home, I proceeded to act like a total freaking nutjob and, on a ladder, 10 months (YES, 40 weeks is TEN months) pregnant, changed out about 12 can lights. Stupid? Totally. Did I feel like if I didn't change the light bulbs, the world would come to an end? Yes.

My mom dropped by with a glider rocker she'd picked up off of Craigslist, which was the final piece of the nursery. We unpacked a bunch of baby gear, put it away and she took care of the mountain of cardboard for me - cause if she didn't, I would have been outside in the freezing cold breaking down the cardboard with a box knife.

The whole time she was there, I was whining and crying to her. So pleasant!

She left, I cooked dinner, and froze the extra casserole. B was home soon after, and we ate - it was about 8 pm.

I wasn't feeling so hot, so I decided to sit in the tub. I got in at about 8:30. At 10:30, B came in and woke me up. The water was cold. And I felt awful.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the worst, gripping pain I'd ever had in my life. And the casserole? Yeah, that was spewed all over the bathroom.

By midnight, I had called the doctor and confirmed I was in fact, in labor. B did not know how to time contractions (we never took classes, doh!), but we figured the hospital was a good place to be, so he packed up the car, and we were off ...

Scary how vivid that memory is - but then again, I was embarking on the most amazing, rewarding journey.

More tomorrow!

Gift

Since deciding my mother in law would stay with us for the duration of her cancer treatment (chemotherapy and radiation), I've gotten two reactions:

1) What a kind thing to do!

or

2) You are crazy. Do you know how this will affect your marriage?

And to be honest, I'm not entirely comfortable with either reaction.

As far as caring for a sick family member, I don't think that it is above and beyond. It is simply the right thing to do. We have room, I am not currently working, and IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO.

The end.

The second reaction? Well, it kind of scares me. Why? Because of course I've had the same thought. Things like money put stress on a marriage. A HEALTHY family member living with you puts stress on a marriage. Truly, caring for an unwell person in your home is a HUGE TEST. On anyone.

Treatment started Monday. It's super intense for about six weeks. So far, spirits have been high and we haven't seen any adverse effects.

But I'm realistic. I know they are coming. She is scared. We all are. Of what comes next. Of what doesn't.

A few weeks ago, I was discussing this with my stepmother-in-law. She went through a similar situation about five years ago.

This is what she said:

"Even in all the sadness, there are so many gifts to be had during these times."

Every single second my mother in law is here, I know more and more she is right. The gift of each story she tells us of her life. Watching her read to my son on the couch in his jammies with his hair still damp from his bath. Going through her treasured jewelry box and hearing the story of how each piece came to her. Seeing my husband so gentle and kind with his mother.

All these things, they are gifts. There is so much love. There is so much hope.

I just had to look.

Simple But Perfect

I got to sleep in this morning.

Did you hear that world? I SLEPT PAST 6 A.M. And I feel like a million bucks.

That was my first present for Mother's Day. The second, which I think is probably my favorite, was eavesdropping through the baby monitor as B pulled G from his crib.

A wee one year old's voice tinkling 'Hi Daddeeee!'. It's so delicious.

I lay there, savoring their sweet conversation as I drifted back to sleep.

Perfect. I really could not ask for anything more.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

The Men in My Life

I spent the first 12 summers of my life on a fishing boat in Southeast Alaska. My first boat trip to Alaska was when I was six weeks old. My Daddy was a commercial salmon fisherman.

Actually, he still is. And every May, he packs up his truck with nets, tons of supplies from Costco (especially coffee beans!) and his little schipperke dog, Roger, and they head up the Al-Can highway to Skagway, Alaska. That is where he keeps his boat, the Kindred Spirit. He built that boat when I was two years old. And it's still chugging along. They've only had one close call where they took on a lot of water and had to be towed back to port, using the bilge to pump as much water out as they could to stay afloat.

Luckily, my Daddy is a really good fisherman, and also very safe. He never goes too far away from other boats, should the need for help arise. He's often alone, he never has a crew member. My Mom goes up from time to time, but since G's been here, she's reluctant to spend an entire summer away. So it's just Dad and Roger. But this year, Roger is too old to go. So it's just Dad and his coffee.

Yesterday, G and I made the 90 minute trek up to my parents house to say good-bye to my Dad (who G calls Papa), who will be gone for FIVE MONTHS.

You think, after 31 years of this, I'd get used to it.

But I never, ever have, and probably never will. Every time I say bye to my Dad for the summer, I cry.

Not little sniffles, but hearty sobs.

I'm a Daddy's girl. In the best sense of the word. My Dad is awesome. He's a wonderful, gentle man. He can do anything. He can rebuild an engine, build furniture, and split firewood for the winter, but also has no qualms about cleaning the house and making dinner.

My husband is much the same way. Not so big on the cooking and cleaning (ha) but he is one of the most creative, intelligent people I've ever met. If he doesn't know how to do something, he'll figure it out. He questions everything and is always reading up on things he doesn't understand. He watches NOVA. He watches that channel that shows the space station in real time. He's interested in quantum physics. But he'll also sit down and watch Dumb & Dumber with me. And to top it off, he's an amazing father.

Yeah, he's a real renaissance man.

In raising a son, I can only hope we can teach G to be as self-sufficient and intelligent as his Daddy and Papa.

I think we'll do fine. He's got some good men to teach him.

Grateful.

Today we walked.

Today, G and I raised $360 for The March of Dimes in honor of Team James & Jake.

Today, we made a difference for a family with struggles we'll hopefully never have to experience.

Today, I look at my beautiful baby boy and am in awe of his perfection, his imperfection, HIM.

Today, I know how lucky I am in experiencing an uneventful, healthy pregnancy.

Today, I will hug my family a little tighter.

Today, I am grateful.

You Capture: Week One - I Love.

This week's You Capture challenge? Photograph something you love with no flash. I headed outside for this one, as my camera skills are a little wobbly. But I love these shots!

I love everything about my son. But, in particular, I love his profile. When he was born, he arrived with such defined features. No little button nose here!



Why do I love this face so much? Because he looks just like my other favorite person, his Daddy.



Head on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry to check out some other You Capture posts.

We Don't 'Do' Valentines Day...Or Do We?

I have been with B for almost 8 years. And in that time, we have never celebrated Valentines day. I've tried to force it on him, which usually did not end well. Valentine's Day is a 'Hallmark' holiday. And that's that.
Or is it...
This year, I honestly forgot it was Valentines Day. I don't know how - probably due to the fact I have more pressing issues. So I was floored when my darling B came home last night with a lovely card and some nice bath salts. A small gesture, but to me it meant the world.
And he even played Mario Kart with me and let me win a few times...
I think I'll keep him.

Reflections on Year One

My baby G turned one today. I am stunned at how quickly this first year has whizzed by. I'll admit, some days seemed inordinately long (see previous post and yes, he is sleeping again - whew!) but the weeks and months have flown.

One year ago I was lying in a hospital bed, completely doped up on morphine (I think), wearing god-awful things on my legs to make sure my circulation was good and I didn't get clots and holding my sweet little boy. Honestly, I was terrified. I had read every book I could get my hands on, and I felt so unprepared. My labor was disappointing - I felt like an utter failure for my inability to deliver naturally (by naturally I mean vaginally, not without drugs - I'm not that crazy!). They crammed me in the smallest room on the ward and I felt like everyone was crawling over me constantly. The nurses woke us up every hour or two to poke and prod.

G had a rough first week. He kept spiking a temperature - we found out later he was just dehydrated. My milk didn't come in for almost a week. Then when it did - boy did it! Poor little guy choked every time he nursed.

Eventually (and it took a while), little dude and I got into a routine. Then I had to go back to work. That was heartbreaking. I cried at the drop of a pin for week leading up to it, and for the week after I returned. But, like everything, you learn to adjust and now I think we're doing a pretty good job.

So, I like lists. Here's some of what I've learned in year one:

1. That a person can survive on very little sleep (though it is not pleasant).
2. I can go without a shower for longer than I ever thought possible.
3. That breast feeding does not 'make the baby weight melt away'.
4. That I get more excited about poop than is probably normal.
5. I can sing out loud in front of others and not be embarrassed.
6. Never leave a wee wee uncovered during diaper changing. NEVER.
7. Even if you say you will treat your pets the same after baby arrives, you won't. Trust me on this.
8. I always cry when G gets shots. I can't help it.
9. That being a mommy makes me want my mommy a lot more.
10. And this is completely cliche, but there is no love like the fierce love of a mother for her child. It is innate, primal and all consuming.

I have a lot of friends who are becoming mommies for the first time this year and also adding to their families. I am so excited for them and I can't believe what a bunch of breeders we've become. It's awesome!

So G, here's to you. You've made me a better person - I forgive easier, I love harder and I am even getting better at cleaning. I love you my little man!