sueeeus

I’ve got loads of work to do, but am so, so tired.  I just can’t bear it right now.  I end up feeling anxious because the load is looming, but I have to remind myself that in the grand scheme of things, it will get done, and the world will keep on spinning.  It doesn’t have to get done this instant.

I’m referring to the day job.   I don’t have nearly as much trouble procrastinating when it comes to the rest- of- the- day- job.  I’ve got back-burner projects that have been on simmer for ages now.  I get the important things done.  The clothes get washed, the meals get prepared, the dishes get washed.  The boys get tucked in to bed.  I get a shower every now and then.

I had a three day exercise streak last week in which I managed to drop by the gym on my way home from the office.  Then Gadget got called out of town so I had to give up the gym in order to pick up the kids in time from daycare.  Late fees are very steep.

Gadget’s dad passed away a few weeks ago.  He was 87 and ready to go.  There was a flurry of coordinating family gatherings and preparing for the memorial.  He was a neat man, and we will miss him.  LB is named in part after him, and I’m proud of that.  The circumstances were sad, but the family gatherings were so nice.  I got to meet Gadget’s twin brother, who lives in New York and hasn’t seen his sibs for 15 years, and hadn’t seen some of the older sibs for 25 years!  It was sort of intriguing to observe the (fraternal) twin and get a chuckle out of the similar looks, expressions and mannerisms.  There were late nights with a room full of brothers playing guitars and singing, and they had good appetites and gobbled everything down that I made, which made me feel very happy.  Gadget says things like, “What in God’s green earth prompted you to buy pulled pork?” instead of, “Wow, pulled pork is quite delicious in tacos.”  His brothers were always thanking me and complimenting me on the delicious food.  Of course, their respective domestic partnerships may have contributed to their level of gratitude.  And similarly Gadget’s level of take- it- for- grantedness.  It felt great to feel appreciated, while it lasted.

My niece had her son at 31 weeks, the day before LB’s birthday, due to toxemia.  He was 2lbs 4oz.  Both mama and baby are fine, thank God, and the baby is breathing on his own!  He’ll be in the NICU for a while, but he’s growing and putting on weight.

I finally got to meet another niece’s son last week, who is now 2.  He’s a miracle boy, born with hydrocephalus.  He’s amazing to see, really.  He’s doing SO WELL!  He is a trooper.  Cognitively, he seems fine.  Physically, he’s a bit delayed, but everything works, and he’s figuring it out.  Truly, he’s a miracle boy.  His sister is BB’s age, and is as sharp as a tack.  She talks circles around BB.  She’s got an amazing vocabulary.  Granted, BB’s a brute, but he seems to be a smart boy, so she’s a super-duper smarty.   They were playing a game where one was supposed to cover their eyes while the other hid an object.  When the item was hidden, the hider would say, ” Ready or not, here I come, peekaboo!”  How cute is that?  BB had a hard time not peeking, and when he was the hider, he would tell her where to look.  Suspense is not his thing.  Silly goose.  Bless his heart.

I seem to have pulled a back muscle in my sleep.  If I turn or move just right, it takes my breath away.  Hrumph.

LB has developed separation anxiety.  When I drop him off at daycare, he flails his body and screams and spouts tears.  I remember BB did this also, but don’t remember how long it lasted.  Hopefully not long.

In the world of corporate takeovers, Gadget and his boss did such a good job shutting down the last warehouse that they’ve been asked to take care of the rest of the warehouse closures across the country.  That’s good for him, in that it helps elevate him in the eyes of the new company (which hopefully means he will get to keep his job), and gives him some bachelor time, but bad for me in that it leaves me a single mom.  Although, somehow I managed to take care of everything and then some, while he was gone.  Go figure.  Maybe I’ll take a couple of days off the next time leaves, and go visit my sister.

Lordy, I need a vacation.

I was all ‘Bah Humbug’ over the Easter basket thing this year, but caved at the last minute and whipped something together.  I’ve only just started attempting to introduce BB to the concept of God, and it’s confusing enough for a four year old, let alone anybody.  Add to that bunnies and eggs and a special basket full of surprises — I can’t even begin to imagine how he puts all those together.

It’s funny to eavesdrop on his play conversations with his toys.  He was explaining to one that another was God, and that he was red, and had special powers.  I don’t know where he got the red part, unless it was because he was playing with stuffed animals, and the one designated as God was the red bear. He also punctuates the end of self-dialog chatter with Amen, now.  La dee da dee da dee da, la dee da dee da, Amen.  Oh to be four.

I don’t really get the whole Easter basket thing, but my heart softens when I reminisce about how magical it was for me as a child to find that basket hidden somewhere in my room, filled with sugary goodness.  I think a lot of that has to do with being so poor and the only occasions in life to ever get candy (i.e., untold wealth) were Christmas, Easter, Halloween, and birthdays.  These days, so many kids seem to grow up getting goodies and things all the time, which dilutes the special occasion experience, so that magical joy is missing.

I’d like my children to experience that feeling of wondrous joy and delight, but am not so keen to load them up with gobs of candy.  I happened to be looking for clothes for BB at WalMart* when my heart softened, so I compromised and found some storage totes in a relatively spring color, and grabbed a couple of low dollar toys and a bag of Reese’s peanut butter eggs.  I filled the totes with the new clothes and toys, and tossed in a small handful of the candy.  I hid BB’s near his bed, and I ‘hid’ LB’s under his hammock.  I think BB will be delighted.

We’re also having an Easter egg hunt for the kiddos at my SIL’s this afternoon.  I bought two big bags of pre-decorated and pre-filled plastic eggs to scatter around, so the kids will have plenty of candy when it’s all said and done.  And then I’ll stealthily confiscate most of it, when the opportunity presents itself.

~*~*~*~

*I think it’s bordering on criminal that one can buy a complete ensemble of shorts, shirt and t-shirt for $7, but at the same time, am thankful.  Hyppocrite.  BB is growing like a weed, though.  The size 6 things I gave him for Christmas are too small, and if clothes will only fit for 3-4 months, I’m thankful that I can find new ones for so little.

• Perhaps I’ll start weaning at 6 months.  EPing is a one-day-at-a-time thing.  Perhaps by six months I’ll be in some kind of a groove where I’ll be happy to continue.  Perhaps not.  The wake up at midnight sessions are brutal, especially when I have to get up for real at 5:30.  Every day I run through mental calculations of how much I need, how much I can store, how long it will last, how much it will take to just sustain, and so on and so forth.  Luckily I’ve found a forum/community of other EPers; women who are just as, if not more, neurotic than I am over this whole lactation gig.  If I do continue the current rate of production, and the current rate of consumption remains the same as well, I can go until 8 months and have enough stash to coast through the remaining 4 months.  That’s my lofty goal, and it’s 4 months less pumping than I went through with BB, so surely I can do this.  Surely?  Except I may not have enough freezer space.  In which case I go back to recalculating.  As I do.  Every. Single. Day.
• I’m thinking more and more of that Zoloft, waiting patiently in my pantry, calling to me ever so softly.
• Part of my problem, I’m nearly certain, is the lack of sunshine in my neck of the woods.  According to climateZONE , we have 308 cloudy and partly cloudy days a year, and 155 days with precipitation.  Oi.  Recently, way too much precipitation.  The flooding has been crazy.  So many people have lost their homes and possessions.  So many roads are damaged.  It’s awful.  Why do I live here?  Oh.  My job.  And those 57 sunny days, that are simply stunning.
• Last week was very hard on me.
• I’m doing much better this week.  I’m handling the daycare-wrenching-my-children-from-my-loving-embrace thing, and thankful for a little autonomy, even.
• I’ve lost a blanket.  I don’t know HOW I could have managed such a feat, but I have.  I’ve looked everywhere (except of course where it is, wherever that may be).  Of course it’s my favorite.
• Tonight I plan to make pork chops, and cook enough to last for the next three days, as I will be too tired from the office and commute to cook.  By Thursday, or even Wednesday, Gadget will probably be making excuses not to partake.
• If it weren’t up to me, we’d live on pizza, pasta, and enchiladas.  I really should not give in so much, and just make what I like and tell them to “like it or lump it.”  That’s what my mother told us when we made complaints about the menu.
• I love love LOVE those donation trucks that come by and take away all the crappe I don’t want anymore stuff I leave on my front porch.  (It’s not all junk.  A lot is almost new, maybe worn only once, such as my ‘nursing’ clothes — the mama pajamas with matching baby jammies, and all the nursing-friendly tops.  I had high hopes.  At least I didn’t spend a fortune on nursing bras.)  BB is very lucky that the toys I confiscated yesterday didn’t end up in that truck.  They’re in purgatory, for the time being.  If he doesn’t notice they’ve gone, then they will shortly disappear for good, but if he does notice, then he will have to earn them back.  I was SO tempted to put them out on the porch with the other things, though.
• LB’s hair has grown long enough to overcome its natural tendency to spike, so he looks completely different.  He’s not my fuzzy monkey any more.  But he’s still my snugglebear.  My snugglebear with what looks like the beginning of a molar protruding from the side of his upper left gum.  My slobber-faced snugglebear.
• I am still plagued by the phantom and nearly constant smell of second-hand smoke.  I’m the only one affected, and it’s driving me batty.
• In an effort to assuage the above, I’ve just pumped two reservoirs full of saline solution through my sinuses, using my Grossan tip thingy.  Now I feel dizzy, as one does, when one is not accustomed to having clear sinuses.
• Why is dinner time such a struggle with a 4-yr old?  Oh.  Because he’s four.  Where is that Zoloft?

Two Thousand and Eight has been oh, so great!
A little bit of lovin’ put a bun in the oven
I took a trip to Oz, just me, just because
I got a promotion without much commotion
Later that year the baby appeared
My beautiful boy has brought infinite joy
Then there’s his brother, a boy like no other
He’s nearly four so I shouldn’t expect more
Our family is complete; this sweet life can’t be beat
As for Two Thousand and Nine, it’s looking just fine!

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

I’m through with the domperidone, and not sure whether the milk supply has taken a hit yet, but am hoping that having the drug out of my system will improve my hormonal outlook.

Post partum hair loss has set in.  If only weight loss were as easy as hair loss.

I hit the jackpot with this bundle of babyliciousness.  He has the best disposition.  When he’s hungry, he kicks  his legs a certain way –alternating, like running or cycling.  When he’s playing in his bouncy seat, he kicks his legs another way, in unison, to get the seat bouncing.  He can really get it going.  Such a smartie!  When our eyes meet he bursts into a giant radiant slobbery smile that melts me to the core.  When he’s tired he flails and squirms until I give him his pacifier, then he contendedly burrows his face to one side or the other, settles in and goes to sleep.  Lately he’s been studying his hands; he’s figuring out that they’re attached to his arms, and trying to make them do his will.  It’s amazing, really, to watch this learning take place.  He’s discovering his voice, which has the most gorgeous resonance.  I hope he will be interested in music!

It is a winter nightmare wonderland around here.  While the snow is quite pretty, and there is a glorious bite to the crisp crisp air, I simply can’t bring myself to drive on the icy roads if it’s not absolutely necessary.  So I’m holed up in my house, still, and feeling a bit gypped with this so-called vacation.  Whine, whine, whine.  We’re nearly out of milk, so I have to decide whether it’s worth a venture out.  I could get out of the driveway without sliding the van into the truck, but getting the van safely back in the garage is another story.  Our cul-de-sac is very short on actual curb space, so street parking is almost impossible.

Snow is great fun for those who don’t have to drive in it, though!

I’m the world’s worst cookie maker.  I followed the recipes, and instructions, for both gingerbread and sugar cookies, but the dough didn’t roll properly, so I had a heck of a time making shapes.  I used the food processor, as directed by the instructions.  I may make another attempt before Christmas, if I can muster the wherewithall, but will use the stand mixer instead. I’m the only one who likes gingerbread, though, so won’t be making any more of that.

In the interest of home-made Christmas gifts, I made some posters for my 8 going on 12 year old nephew using the raster tool.  I like how they turned out and I think he will be pleased.

For my 12 going on 24 niece, I made an Audrey collection.  These are 8.5×11 glossy photos in 10×13 frameless frames (the photo shows their protective styrofoam), and should fill up quite a bit of her wall space.  She’s very inspired by the beautiful Ms. H, and I think she will be delighted.

Next up, therapeutic bath salts.  That is, if the peppermint oil I bought on eBay arrives in time.

• For 32 weeks, I’m larger than life. My last fundal measurement was 40. Already. And I’m stretched tight. It’s a sort of odd, numb feeling, being stretched that far. My boobs don’t even look big any more. In comparison.
• I have a tentative birth date set.  August 28, 2008.  I know, it’s almost two weeks early, but seriously, it’s hard to imagine how massive this child could get, by 40 weeks.  Who knows, anyway, when one might actually go into labor.  My sister’s baby came that early, on his own.  I’ll be getting that amnio test for lung development, just to be sure he’s ready.  Because of the GD, it’s required.  I think that it’s not generally required after 38 weeks under normal circumstances.  I still have time to change my mind and wait until 39 weeks, but I’m having a hard time imagining how well my body’s going to hold up, if I go that long.  I can barely move as is.  I LOVE this giant belly, but I could do without the aching hips, legs, and feet.  And the walnut sized bladder capacity.  And the inability to breathe.  When there’s so much child inside, everything else gets squished.  And I have nearly 8 official weeks more of rapid growth, because now is when the growth really starts taking off.  Yikes!
• My swanky new serger is on the blink.  The needle fell out during coverstitch operation and now it isn’t working.  I took it to the dealer and they found even more things wrong with it than I did – they would know, since they are familiar with sergers.  This is my first, and I have no prior knowledge to compare it to, so I’m actually relieved that they found other problems.  It’s all under warranty, so off for repair it goes, and hopefully it will be smooth, sweet, and deeeeeeeluxe when it returns.  Meanwhile, my nesting mode sewing projects are on hold.
• I cleaned BB’s room today.  I asked him if we could give some of his toys away, and he actually agreed!  So I took advantage of his magnanimity and filled two huge bins with giveaways.  It’s one of the mysteries of the universe, how I can go through every single toy, from the smallest lego, and go through every corner and every inch of his room, and yet things are still missing.  The bottom tray of the Boggle game.  Nearly all the pieces of the superheroes memory game.  The shoes for his doll.  I don’t throw anything away, and when I go through his things, I go through them meticulously.  So where are these things?  Hopefully not down the air vents.  Or the toilet.  BB could have thrown things away, I suppose.
• I put his bed back in his room.  Positive thinking.  We’ll see how that goes.  He was all for it this morning, but I imagine once sleepy time rolls around, the tune may change.
• Less than six weeks!  It’s just around the corner, and it seems like the next days will fly by in a whir and a blur.  And then the next chapter will begin, a whir and blur of its own.
• I already bought a case of size 1 diapers.  It makes me smile.

• I love the donation trucks that make their rounds. Simply leave a pile of stuff on the front step, and vamoose! It’s gone. Now, if only I could get the pack rat Mr. Gadget to go through his clothes and donate things he doesn’t use. If only.
• A word of caution to anybody who might try to locate plastic pants or vinyl pants or diaper covers via Google. Ummmmm, there are some interesting people out there. And I have yet to find any smaller than adult x-small and larger than 4T (I bought a truckload of the latter, and squeezed Mr. Peebody in to one pair, one time, several months ago). Hello, are there not people who weigh over 50lbs* and under 100lbs who need some night time moisture leakage assistance? I am about to embark on a DIY project, and make my own.
• Same Mr. Peebody is going through some sort of a phase. He’s 3-1/3rd now, and is behaving in a ‘clingy’ way, whining, insisting on sleeping in the big bed with us (to which I’ve caved all weekend, bad mama, bad, bad mama), and this morning the tears and anguish at being left at daycare. Oh, the drama. I haven’t seen that drama for months. So why now?**
• The smell of tooth being ground away by the dentist’s drill is eerie and awful, if smells can be eerie. Not having searing shooting spasms when making contact with food or beverage, hot or cold, sweet or savory, makes it all worth it. One can hope.
• Mother’s Day is convenient for coercing husbands to help pull weeds from the garden.
• Relaxin’ when in the context of chillin’ and kickin’ back is a good thing. Relaxin, in the context of that hormone that helps loosen ligaments and joints in order to prepare for a journey through the birth canal, when produced in over-abundance, is not the most pleasant of things. Only 23 weeks in and already saddled (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) with pelvic pain. When I stand, I have to be still for a moment before I can actually walk. At only 23 weeks. I’m fairly certain I’ll be a waddler this time too. Oh, the joy.***

*The average 3-1/3rd year old is not over 50lbs, does not wear size 5 –not 5T–, going on size 6, and does not wear size 12 shoes.

**Of course, it seldom helps that MIL somehow ALWAYS manages to make a comment about him being ‘left’ in the care of others. Without fail. I ignore it as though I don’t hear it, but I do hear it. Every. Single. Time. Loud. And. Clear. And now I wonder if he happened to hear it to. Thank you so much, dear MIL.

***NOT COMPLAINING!!! In the greater context of life and thankfulness, I’m embracing all there is to being pregnant, and endeavoring to enjoy and savor every moment of the journey. All of it!

I love potato chips because they are salty, crispy, and oh so satisfying.  Duh.  Now, as to why I love engineers, or rather, working with engineers.  If I didn’t work with engineers, what is the likelihood that I would have viewed Mercury in its path across the sun on this very day   Would anybody have brought a solarscope in to the office   Methinks the chances are slim.  How fascinating!  This experience has made my day!

I hope my little one becomes interested in astronomy.  I recently went on a quest for a planetarium of sorts.  I wanted a night light that projects a night sky on his ceiling, so we could look up and talk about it while he drifts off to sleep.  I didn’t find much of anything with any sort of decent customer reviews.  There was a turtle toy with a shell that had little perforations in it, that supposedly projected a night sky when lit, but it seemed a little meh.  Instead, I gave up the quest and got a multicolored LED nightlight that slowly changes colors, from red to green to blue to violet and back again.  It’s a hit, but it casts an eery shape on the wall, reminiscent of a horned devil, and nearly no imagination at all is needed to get spooked during the red rotation.  I’m not so fond of this night light.

Oh yes.  I nearly forgot.  Another reason why I love working with engineers.  Some of the old timers were wondering about the new person we are getting this week.  New to their group, not new to the company. 

I wonder how old she is, said one. 

(What does it matter )  About my age, says I.  (I know of her, from days gone by.  There aren’t so many women engineers around, so the names are easily remembered.) 

Twenties, then   said they. 

God BLESS them! 

Forties, said I. 

I love them dearly, yes I do.

The first trick-or-treaters have arrived! The Boo Boy enjoyed holding the candy bowl for the first wave of costumed visitors. He was very brave when it came time to open the door, but the skeletons and goblins that soon followed proved to be too scary for this little one to handle. Not having seen skeletons and goblins and scary things like that before, and all. Poor little guy, whimpering and giving me that look. The furrowed brow. Deep concern etched all over that sweet little face.
We had fun carving the pumpkins. Mine projects a shadow of a cat looming over a pair of rats in the foreground. Mr. Gadget chose a grim reaper skeleton with a scythe projection in back, but he decided to light his with a strobe light rather than a candle, so the background shadow effect is lost. Ingenious technique, though! I’ve never ventured into such creative pumpkin carving territories before. The patterns and techniques came from a book I found on clearance last year at JoAnn’s. Fun fun!

I’ve had five days off.  Five!  Sadly, I feel as though I need many many more.  The first was necessarily spent cleaning in a sanity-restoring fervor.  Errands, preparations for a wedding, a road trip, a wedding, and a return trip consumed the next three.  The last day I wasted, mainly on the computer, although I did run some errands.  In retrospect, I should have relaxed and regrouped.  But I didn’t, and today, it’s back to the grind.  I managed well for most of the day, but the anxiety wormed its way back in, temporarily.  Luckily, it didn’t take hold.  I’ve kept it at bay, but am distraught that it could so swiftly rear its ugly head.  I wonder if I’m on the verge of a mid-life crisis, or in the midst of one, or if I’m simply tumbling on the waves of hormones gone awry.  Perhaps I’m just full up.  Tired.  I need to find more restorative things to do.  A schedule.  A plan.  Order.  I feel better when there is order in my universe.

On a more positive note, what a beautiful wedding!  The bride arrived by horse drawn carriage.

  The ever-faithful ring bearer stole the show. 

Solemn vows were made.  The bride was a vision in cream fairy tale silk.  The groom emanated love for his bride.

A dapper young man was mostly well-behaved.  For a one and three quarter year old on a beautiful fall day.

There was dancing     and champagne.

A fabulous time was had by all.  My youngest sister.  Married.  It’s a beautiful thing.