In this post I will begin the details of actual labor. For days I've wrestled with how to write this story in a discrete but honest fashion. My goal is not to gross anyone out, but I can't leave out the messy stuff or it won't be the whole story. Therefore, this is a faint warning... gore and very personal information is ahead.
Our wedding anniversary is on December 17th. While pregnant with Melody, Chad and I celebrated being married four years. He surprised me with a grand celebration. We stayed in a nearby hotel. Dinner was at a nice steakhouse. I still remember that meal. My taste buds were on steroids, everything tasted so good. After dinner we returned to the hotel to exchange gifts. Chad gave me a beautiful robe. It was light blue, thick, soft as a cloud, and luxurious. Surprisingly, I was able to wrap it around my massive middle. I wore it over my maternity swimsuit to the pool. Many endearing looks were cast my way as I waddled through the hotel. It looked like I was hiding a beach ball under there.
The day ended with intimacy enhanced by a hotel room, a great gift and a special occasion. That night I was not able to sleep a wink. I tossed and turned and peed every 30 to 45 minutes. I woke up exhausted and frustrated. I blamed the sleepless night on the unfamiliar firm bed. My hips and shoulders ached. I did not realize my body was entering the early stages of labor.
Two days went by. Small things were happening. I was loosing enough stuff to have to wear a pad all the time. My back began aching to the point of major discomfort and sleeping was impossible. In my head, I still had three weeks to go, so I tried to have positive thoughts. I focused on the baby inside me. I thought of her all the time and wondered what she looked like. Did she have hair? How big would she be? I could feel her knobby knees and pointy heels under my ribs. Occasionally it felt like she was trying to fully stretch out inside of me. Her movements did not cause pain. My stomach jumped and bumped at her command. I let these things make me happy even though my discomfort was monumental. If I had known I was actually in the early stages of labor, my attitude would not have been so good. But I thought we had weeks to go and I did not want to be negative about my baby.
Tuesday (December 21st) a friend and I went to the mall to do some last minute Christmas shopping. We ate pizza and I barely fit in the booth. On the way out of the restaurant a stranger said something like, "When was your due date?" implying that I was overdue. As nicely as I could I replied, "Not for three more weeks." I was completely annoyed. I turned to my friend in the parking lot and said, "Do I really look that big!?" She sheepishly, carefully replied, "Yes, honey. You do." I shrugged and thought once again, "But I have THREE WEEKS left!"
Later that same evening I finished shopping first. I stood on the outskirts of the food court, scanning the crowds for my friend. Suddenly I felt flushed, exhausted and weak. I hobbled to the nearest chair and lowered myself down to rest. Never in my life had I been too weak to stand up. Looking back, I don't know why it didn't cross my mind that I was in labor. I guess my mind was just set on January, not December, for the birth.
That night, when I finally arrived at home, I collapsed into bed and slept like a baby all night long. Wednesday, the 22nd, I woke up to mildly icy roads. I took my time getting ready for work in order to let the roads clear. For some reason I decided to do a load of baby clothes laundry before leaving the house. It was the first of the baby clothes for me to wash. I had to get gas on my way to work. I remember standing by the car, pumping the gas, in the freezing cold wind. My hair was slightly damp and I was wearing a light-weight jacket. Despite all of this I was still warm!
During the 40 minute commute to work, I had my first strong contraction. It took me by surprise. I had to concentrate to keep the car on the road. The seat belt felt horrible; it was so tight around my stomach. I shrugged it all off, and focused on other things. Three weeks. Three weeks. Three more weeks.
I got to work at 10:30. It was a relaxed day in the office; everyone was happy and looking forward to Christmas. We goofed off and talked about silly things; I laughed really hard and felt very happy. For lunch I was in the mood for A&W root beer on tap. (Normally I don't care for root beer. I'm a coke girl.) Scot and Melissa and I went to Long John Silvers / A&W. I ordered a three plank chicken meal with my root beer. They each got smaller meals. I felt slightly embarrassed to be eating so much. While at the table I repeatedly got up to get things like ketchup, a straw, napkins, etc. Each movement was a monumental task. I was growing very uncomfortable and things were beginning to hurt.
I asked my friends if they minded going to the nearby health food store on the way back to work. I felt an urgent need to buy vitamin C powder and calcium citrate powder. These were ingredients for Teresa's labor smoothie. They help provide the laboring mama with extra energy and reduce muscle cramping. Typically I would not have bothered my friends with an errand like this, but the roads were suppose to get more icy and I felt an urgency. I still did not realize I was in labor. Every five minutes I reminded myself I had at least three weeks left to go.
On the 10 drive back to work I experienced two strong contractions. Each bump in the road made me grimace and close my eyes. Scot and Melissa did not notice. I mentioned the contractions to them and they got excited. I remained calm, still not believe this was it.
Once back at the office I began timing the contractions. They were five minutes apart and each lasted between 30 and 45 seconds. It was difficult to concentrate on anything else. I was unable to get comfortable in my expensive posh Herman Miller chair. I went to the bathroom; sitting on the toilet felt good. I did some pelvic rocks; they brought on more contractions.
Back at my desk I frantically worked on a list for Ellen. I felt responsible to leave her with clear directions for my projects incase this was it. I wished with all my heart the list was already made. It should have been a 20 minute task; instead it took me one and a half hours! The contractions continued, but no one in the office noticed my frequent breathing breaks. I squirmed through each one; leaning back and leaning forward. I never found a way to relax in that stupid chair.
Around 2:30 I realized I could not drive myself home. Liz immediately came to mind. She was a longtime friend from college who also worked at DaySpring. I walked to the other building to ask her to drive me home. Walking felt good. The cold air was refreshing. I walked slowly and paused when contractions came. Liz was on the phone with a mutual friend when I arrived at her desk. They chatted while I waited. I masked my way through two more contractions. Then Liz handed me the phone. I chatted through a couple more contractions; it was very difficult.
Finally, I told Liz I needed her to take me home. She was awesome. On the drive she panicked a little. I calmly told her to drive slow on the curvy highway. The curves were painful for me. Once we almost veered off the road when she looked at me instead of keeping her eyes on the road. I surprised myself by remaining relaxed and telling her not to worry. With each contraction I'd rest my head on the headrest, close my eyes, fully relax my arms, and slowly breath in and out with my mouth slightly open. I think this sight scared her a little. Also, she realized the magnitude of the situation more than I did. I was STILL not convinced this was it! Liz's actions reminded me of the classic sitcom husband who gets hysterical when it's time to go to the hospital. She told me later that she was coaching herself to not talk too much or be loud.
I called Crystal on the drive to tell her about the contractions. At this point they were three minutes apart. Our conversation ended abruptly when a pain began. I said shortly and weakly, "I have to breathe now. Bye." and hung up the phone. Later she told me that it was then she knew I was in active labor.
2/08/2006
2/07/2006
melody's birth story, part 2
As we entered the third trimester of the pregnancy, I was calm and excited about labor. I felt prepared and equipped. Chad and I talked about it often. One night, as we walked around our neighborhood, I said, "I hope I don't throw up during transition." Looking back, I can't believe throwing up was one of my concerns. I did throw up, but it paled in comparison to the rest of the experience. This is an example of the contrast between my expectations and the reality of my labor.
From about week 30, I measured larger than normal. Each week I was 3 to 5 centimeters larger than expected. One is suppose to measure 30cm when she is 30 weeks, 32cm when she is 32 weeks, 35cm when she is 35 weeks, etc. The doctor was more concerned about this discrepancy than the midwife. The doctor looked at individual things -- my weight was too high, my measurement too big, my ankles too swollen, etc. Jennifer looked at the whole picture. Most of Jennifer's patients gain more weight than the average. Also, most of the babies she delivers are around 9 lbs, instead of the hospital's average of 6 lbs. With this type of knowledge, she eased my mind about my weight and my measurements.
My due date was January 6th. I tried to manage my expectations because I knew that a lot of first timers go past their due date. As I approached my 35th week, my maternity pants got too tight. I couldn't believe it. One morning I sat on the floor to put on my shoes. This was already a monumental task because reaching my feet was nearly impossible. As I sat down and bent over, my too tight pants dug into my enormous belly. I sat back, gasping for breath and sighed, "What am I going to do??! I have five weeks left and my pants are too tight!!" Chad was sympathetic and told me to buy some new pants. This made me feel better. I went to Motherhood Maternity, a store I grew to hate. (Literally.) I felt like their clothes were Walmart quality at Mall prices. I found the largest, cheapest pair of jeans and wore them every single day even though we were not suppose to wear jeans to work. I didn't care.
December arrived and it became increasingly difficult to sleep and walk. I woke up to pee every single hour at night. I did pelvic rocks nonstop (including in the bathroom at work) to relieve my aching lower back. I don't know how I would have made it without those pelvic rocks. They felt so good.
My plan was to begin my maternity leave on December 26th, the day after Christmas. This would give me a little over a week at home to prepare myself and the house for labor. I had heard stories of women going into labor at work. I could not fathom working until the day the baby came. I wanted time at home first. Little did I know, that would not be the case at all!
From about week 30, I measured larger than normal. Each week I was 3 to 5 centimeters larger than expected. One is suppose to measure 30cm when she is 30 weeks, 32cm when she is 32 weeks, 35cm when she is 35 weeks, etc. The doctor was more concerned about this discrepancy than the midwife. The doctor looked at individual things -- my weight was too high, my measurement too big, my ankles too swollen, etc. Jennifer looked at the whole picture. Most of Jennifer's patients gain more weight than the average. Also, most of the babies she delivers are around 9 lbs, instead of the hospital's average of 6 lbs. With this type of knowledge, she eased my mind about my weight and my measurements.
My due date was January 6th. I tried to manage my expectations because I knew that a lot of first timers go past their due date. As I approached my 35th week, my maternity pants got too tight. I couldn't believe it. One morning I sat on the floor to put on my shoes. This was already a monumental task because reaching my feet was nearly impossible. As I sat down and bent over, my too tight pants dug into my enormous belly. I sat back, gasping for breath and sighed, "What am I going to do??! I have five weeks left and my pants are too tight!!" Chad was sympathetic and told me to buy some new pants. This made me feel better. I went to Motherhood Maternity, a store I grew to hate. (Literally.) I felt like their clothes were Walmart quality at Mall prices. I found the largest, cheapest pair of jeans and wore them every single day even though we were not suppose to wear jeans to work. I didn't care.
December arrived and it became increasingly difficult to sleep and walk. I woke up to pee every single hour at night. I did pelvic rocks nonstop (including in the bathroom at work) to relieve my aching lower back. I don't know how I would have made it without those pelvic rocks. They felt so good.
My plan was to begin my maternity leave on December 26th, the day after Christmas. This would give me a little over a week at home to prepare myself and the house for labor. I had heard stories of women going into labor at work. I could not fathom working until the day the baby came. I wanted time at home first. Little did I know, that would not be the case at all!
2/04/2006
melody's birth story, part 1
I have decided to tell Melody's birth story. I'm finally ready.
It took many months for me to be able to think about her birth in a positive light. For a long time it was a bundle of painful memories. Anger and resentment simmered inside when I thought about it. When Melody was 7 months old I reached a turning point. I began to remember her birthday with a happy heart. I began to see the good things. Now she is almost 14 months. When people ask, "Would you do it again?" I respond with a small quiet, "Yes, I would."
I'll preface the actual birth with some background information. I grew up in a family that benefited from alternative medicine. My mom used homeopathy for her chronic fatigue, allergies, and general weakness. While she has never been as strong as a typical person, these remedies helped her immensely. She always believed in vitamins, supplements, and health food. I did not have a coca-cola until I was five. (Maybe that's why I love it so much now.)
I have always been comfortable with the idea of natural medicine. As a girl who wanted to be a mom someday, I had it in the back of my head that I'd probably choose to attempt an unmedicated birth. My good friend, Crystal, had her first baby three years before Melody came along. She learned something called The Bradley Method. I liked what I heard from her, so when I found out I was pregnant I looked into it.
I found there were two women in our area that teach The Bradley Method. I called one and was not impressed or comfortable with the conversation. I called the second, and liked her immediately. Her name was Teresa. Chad and I made an appointment to meet her and joined her small class shortly after. There were two other couples in our class, both in their 3rd trimester. I, on the other hand, was merely 10 weeks along. I remember looking down at my flat middle and wondering with all my might what it would be like when the baby grew and stretched me out like a beach ball. Each week I stared at a large picture book portraying the growing baby. I'd look ahead to see how big my baby would get in the next few weeks. I was full of anticipation.
We learned a myriad of exercises including squatting, pelvic rocks, tailor sitting, the butterfly, kegels, and relaxation. Nutrition was also a weekly topic. We learned that consuming 80 to 100 grams of protein each day would drastically reduce the chance of toxemia / pre-eclampsia. I kept record of what I ate and learned that a tuna melt with cheese and tomato was an easy way to get a lot of protein in one meal. Many evenings before bed, I'd drink 8 ounces of milk in order to top off my protein count for the day. The Bradley group was a source of accountability and encouragement in the area of nutrition. I would not have eaten as well without their support.
Through the childbirth class I met several new friends who introduced me to different books about natural childbirth. I read several of them including, Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, Husband Coached Childbirth, and The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth. The more I read, the more excited and sure I became about having an unmedicated birth. I began to think it would be easy to do it the natural way if: I ate well, exercised, learned how to relax, and listened to everything my Bradley teacher said. I hung on her every word during class, asked tons of questions, and listened intensely. I tried to be the model student. Each day I grew more confident in myself and my ability to have a baby without drugs. (Ha!) Chad was equally excited about the information we were learning.
As Chad and I learned about these things, we also learned about our local hospitals. Northwest Arkansas is not as progressive as other areas of the country. This stunted element applies to the medical field as well. We had trouble finding a doctor / hospital combination that pleased us. Some doctors were okay with non-intervention, but their hospital policies scared us. Other hospitals had a good reputation for a friendly natural childbirth environment, but we were unable to find a doctor we were comfortable with. I entered my fourth month of the pregnancy still unsure of which doctor / hospital to use. It was at this point that Chad started talking about having a home birth. At first I was very closed to the idea because of fear. What if something went wrong? How would I forgive myself?
Some reasons we didn't want to be in the hospital included:
I did not want an IV in my arm or a fetal monitor strapped to my belly. I wanted to be able to eat / drink during labor and I didn't want a timeline attached to my labor. After the birth, we wanted the baby to room-in with us. I didn't know if I'd be able to trust a doctor and the nurses to listen to me during the labor. What if I got a mean nurse? What if the doctor insisted on breaking my water or on doing an episiotomy? Basically, Chad and I just didn't want to have to fight the system. We wanted to be fully supported in our birth plan wishes from the get-go. We didn't want to enter the labor process unsure of what kind of birth team we'd have. As we struggled to find a doctor and hospital, I became anxious. Each prenatal visit consisted of fear, uncertainty, and stress.
Sometime in the fifth month of the pregnancy, we met a midwife named Jennifer. I liked her immediately. She was only a few years older than me and had a calm demeanor. She answered our questions with poise and confidence. As we talked and became acquainted, I started feeling hopeful about the idea of a home birth. She practiced out of her home, which was a 100+ year old, two story, cedar sided house on a large shaded lot in the historic part of town. The house had a bedroom / bathroom on the first floor that was her prenatal quarters. Each month we'd have an appointment. Instead of feeling like I was going to the doctor, it was more like visiting a friend. She made us hot tea and sat on the edge of the full size bed while we sat in rocking chairs. We asked questions. She told stories. She listened to our fears and replaced them with knowledge. She gave me confidence in myself as well as in her ability and experience.
After meeting with Jennifer twice, we decided to have our baby at home. Three short months before I had had a casual conversation with an acquaintance who was also pregnant. She told me she was planning to have her baby at home and I remember thinking, "Wow. That's extreme. I wouldn't do that." Chad and I continued seeing an OB incase there were complications that landed us in the hospital after all. The comparison between my OB appointments and my monthly visits to Jennifer's were remarkable. Each time I left the doctor's office I was anxious, irritated, and slightly scared. When I left Jennifer's I felt calm, excited, and uplifted. My OB appointments consisted of waiting a total of around 30 minutes and spending about 10-15 minutes with the doctor / nurse. Appointments with Jennifer lasted at least a hour and centered on conversations and stories. We developed a trusting relationship that I have never felt with a doctor.
It took many months for me to be able to think about her birth in a positive light. For a long time it was a bundle of painful memories. Anger and resentment simmered inside when I thought about it. When Melody was 7 months old I reached a turning point. I began to remember her birthday with a happy heart. I began to see the good things. Now she is almost 14 months. When people ask, "Would you do it again?" I respond with a small quiet, "Yes, I would."
I'll preface the actual birth with some background information. I grew up in a family that benefited from alternative medicine. My mom used homeopathy for her chronic fatigue, allergies, and general weakness. While she has never been as strong as a typical person, these remedies helped her immensely. She always believed in vitamins, supplements, and health food. I did not have a coca-cola until I was five. (Maybe that's why I love it so much now.)
I have always been comfortable with the idea of natural medicine. As a girl who wanted to be a mom someday, I had it in the back of my head that I'd probably choose to attempt an unmedicated birth. My good friend, Crystal, had her first baby three years before Melody came along. She learned something called The Bradley Method. I liked what I heard from her, so when I found out I was pregnant I looked into it.
I found there were two women in our area that teach The Bradley Method. I called one and was not impressed or comfortable with the conversation. I called the second, and liked her immediately. Her name was Teresa. Chad and I made an appointment to meet her and joined her small class shortly after. There were two other couples in our class, both in their 3rd trimester. I, on the other hand, was merely 10 weeks along. I remember looking down at my flat middle and wondering with all my might what it would be like when the baby grew and stretched me out like a beach ball. Each week I stared at a large picture book portraying the growing baby. I'd look ahead to see how big my baby would get in the next few weeks. I was full of anticipation.
We learned a myriad of exercises including squatting, pelvic rocks, tailor sitting, the butterfly, kegels, and relaxation. Nutrition was also a weekly topic. We learned that consuming 80 to 100 grams of protein each day would drastically reduce the chance of toxemia / pre-eclampsia. I kept record of what I ate and learned that a tuna melt with cheese and tomato was an easy way to get a lot of protein in one meal. Many evenings before bed, I'd drink 8 ounces of milk in order to top off my protein count for the day. The Bradley group was a source of accountability and encouragement in the area of nutrition. I would not have eaten as well without their support.
Through the childbirth class I met several new friends who introduced me to different books about natural childbirth. I read several of them including, Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, Husband Coached Childbirth, and The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth. The more I read, the more excited and sure I became about having an unmedicated birth. I began to think it would be easy to do it the natural way if: I ate well, exercised, learned how to relax, and listened to everything my Bradley teacher said. I hung on her every word during class, asked tons of questions, and listened intensely. I tried to be the model student. Each day I grew more confident in myself and my ability to have a baby without drugs. (Ha!) Chad was equally excited about the information we were learning.
As Chad and I learned about these things, we also learned about our local hospitals. Northwest Arkansas is not as progressive as other areas of the country. This stunted element applies to the medical field as well. We had trouble finding a doctor / hospital combination that pleased us. Some doctors were okay with non-intervention, but their hospital policies scared us. Other hospitals had a good reputation for a friendly natural childbirth environment, but we were unable to find a doctor we were comfortable with. I entered my fourth month of the pregnancy still unsure of which doctor / hospital to use. It was at this point that Chad started talking about having a home birth. At first I was very closed to the idea because of fear. What if something went wrong? How would I forgive myself?
Some reasons we didn't want to be in the hospital included:
I did not want an IV in my arm or a fetal monitor strapped to my belly. I wanted to be able to eat / drink during labor and I didn't want a timeline attached to my labor. After the birth, we wanted the baby to room-in with us. I didn't know if I'd be able to trust a doctor and the nurses to listen to me during the labor. What if I got a mean nurse? What if the doctor insisted on breaking my water or on doing an episiotomy? Basically, Chad and I just didn't want to have to fight the system. We wanted to be fully supported in our birth plan wishes from the get-go. We didn't want to enter the labor process unsure of what kind of birth team we'd have. As we struggled to find a doctor and hospital, I became anxious. Each prenatal visit consisted of fear, uncertainty, and stress.
Sometime in the fifth month of the pregnancy, we met a midwife named Jennifer. I liked her immediately. She was only a few years older than me and had a calm demeanor. She answered our questions with poise and confidence. As we talked and became acquainted, I started feeling hopeful about the idea of a home birth. She practiced out of her home, which was a 100+ year old, two story, cedar sided house on a large shaded lot in the historic part of town. The house had a bedroom / bathroom on the first floor that was her prenatal quarters. Each month we'd have an appointment. Instead of feeling like I was going to the doctor, it was more like visiting a friend. She made us hot tea and sat on the edge of the full size bed while we sat in rocking chairs. We asked questions. She told stories. She listened to our fears and replaced them with knowledge. She gave me confidence in myself as well as in her ability and experience.
After meeting with Jennifer twice, we decided to have our baby at home. Three short months before I had had a casual conversation with an acquaintance who was also pregnant. She told me she was planning to have her baby at home and I remember thinking, "Wow. That's extreme. I wouldn't do that." Chad and I continued seeing an OB incase there were complications that landed us in the hospital after all. The comparison between my OB appointments and my monthly visits to Jennifer's were remarkable. Each time I left the doctor's office I was anxious, irritated, and slightly scared. When I left Jennifer's I felt calm, excited, and uplifted. My OB appointments consisted of waiting a total of around 30 minutes and spending about 10-15 minutes with the doctor / nurse. Appointments with Jennifer lasted at least a hour and centered on conversations and stories. We developed a trusting relationship that I have never felt with a doctor.
2/03/2006
tiny duplex = happy times
Last night Chad and I started the massive project of reorganizing our papers. I created new files, while he purged the old ones. We threw away TONS of stuff. We ran across things that made us laugh. He found his driving learner's permit from when he was 15 years old. He didn't want to part with it, so we moved it to the sentiments box. This is a box I have on a book shelve. It is full of sweet things that we don't want to let go. One item is the list of 10 things Chad loves about me, which he gave me when we he proposed. Aww. So now, his learner's permit is amoung the treasures.
We also ran across receipts from all our previous apartments. We sighed when we found record of our very first duplex. We payed $280 a month and the electric bill for that February was under $30. When we compare that to our current mortgage and utility situation we're dumbfounded. We never expected to have this much in five short years. We're thankful, but we also miss the simplicity of that tiny duplex with its 35 year old cinderblock construction. We used to climb onto the roof and drink Mikes Hard Lemonade underneath a huge oak tree that shaded our side of the unit. We watched DVDs with a tiny laptop because we didn't have a tv. The kitchen was so small that the oven and fridge could not be open at the same time. It totally didn't matter though. We were blissfully happy there and when the day came to move out, we were sad.
We also ran across receipts from all our previous apartments. We sighed when we found record of our very first duplex. We payed $280 a month and the electric bill for that February was under $30. When we compare that to our current mortgage and utility situation we're dumbfounded. We never expected to have this much in five short years. We're thankful, but we also miss the simplicity of that tiny duplex with its 35 year old cinderblock construction. We used to climb onto the roof and drink Mikes Hard Lemonade underneath a huge oak tree that shaded our side of the unit. We watched DVDs with a tiny laptop because we didn't have a tv. The kitchen was so small that the oven and fridge could not be open at the same time. It totally didn't matter though. We were blissfully happy there and when the day came to move out, we were sad.
2/02/2006
time, snot & exercise
---warning---
Very boring post ahead. I've vowed to stop trying make each post a masterpiece, in hopes of writing on a more daily basis. Therefore, you're about to embark on a boring, regular, everyday encounter of my life....
I can't believe it is already February. For that matter, I can't believe it is 2006. The older I get the faster time goes by. Sometimes I panic because the days flip by so quickly. But I guess that means life is good. It is in pain that days drag on and on.
Melody has had a runny nose for over two weeks. She's not sick in any other way. She is definitely teething. Evidence is buckets of drool and constant hand chewing. We've been isolated from our social circle because of the snot. This group of moms is really good about staying away when sick or borderline sick. I apprecaite this and want to respect in the same way. But, I miss the interaction! I think Melody misses it too. Her 7th and 8th tooth just broke through yesterday, so hopefully the snot will stop now.
Yesterday I exercised for the first time in about two months. My friend, Laura, and I went for a brisk walk. Then we did crunches and fire hydrants. (Ouch) It felt really good. Chad found out yesterday that it looks like we'll be going on a four day cruise with his company in mid March. Of course this is great motivation for exercising. The question is... is it enough motivation to actually DO something on a regular basis? I hope so.
Very boring post ahead. I've vowed to stop trying make each post a masterpiece, in hopes of writing on a more daily basis. Therefore, you're about to embark on a boring, regular, everyday encounter of my life....
I can't believe it is already February. For that matter, I can't believe it is 2006. The older I get the faster time goes by. Sometimes I panic because the days flip by so quickly. But I guess that means life is good. It is in pain that days drag on and on.
Melody has had a runny nose for over two weeks. She's not sick in any other way. She is definitely teething. Evidence is buckets of drool and constant hand chewing. We've been isolated from our social circle because of the snot. This group of moms is really good about staying away when sick or borderline sick. I apprecaite this and want to respect in the same way. But, I miss the interaction! I think Melody misses it too. Her 7th and 8th tooth just broke through yesterday, so hopefully the snot will stop now.
Yesterday I exercised for the first time in about two months. My friend, Laura, and I went for a brisk walk. Then we did crunches and fire hydrants. (Ouch) It felt really good. Chad found out yesterday that it looks like we'll be going on a four day cruise with his company in mid March. Of course this is great motivation for exercising. The question is... is it enough motivation to actually DO something on a regular basis? I hope so.
2/01/2006
paper pile plea
I'm making slow progress in The Land of the Paper Piles. One wouldn't know it by looking in our office room, but there is a method to the chaos. First of all, I've created files for the monthly bills. Credit card, phones, utilities, bank statements, and freelance info. These categories take care of about 75% of the incoming papers. So from here on out, the paper pile should be smaller.
The thing that stumps me is what to do with all the misc papers. Random receipts, EOBs, car repairs, geez, I don't even know what they all are. All I know is, there is a HUGE pile at my feet that I have no idea what to do with. Maybe we're just saving too many documents. What do you save? What do you throw away? How do you file it? How do you keep up? I desperately want to be on top of this area of our lives, and I am closer than ever before, but I still need ideas for the overall system.
Help me... any suggestions?
The thing that stumps me is what to do with all the misc papers. Random receipts, EOBs, car repairs, geez, I don't even know what they all are. All I know is, there is a HUGE pile at my feet that I have no idea what to do with. Maybe we're just saving too many documents. What do you save? What do you throw away? How do you file it? How do you keep up? I desperately want to be on top of this area of our lives, and I am closer than ever before, but I still need ideas for the overall system.
Help me... any suggestions?
1/31/2006
baby gear goodbyes
Today I gave away several baby items. A lady at church sent an email to the congregation, asking if anyone had baby gear. I guess she's expecting a grandson in a month or so, and they don't have much yet. I gave Melody's swing, bouncy seat and infant car seat. I found the swing at a garage sale, and the other items were given to us. I figured we might as well give it away if someone else needs it, and we can find good deals again when we have another baby someday. (The car seat is already four years old, so it will "expire" in one year.)
As I loaded my station wagon with the stuff, a wave of sentimental memories came over me. I thought back to three hour swing naps, showers with the bouncy seat nearby, and miles and miles of car time with the red & black used car seat. I ran inside the house, grabbed the phone, and called Chad.
"All of the sudden I'm not sure if we should give this stuff away. Do you think we should keep it? Or am I just being sentimental?"
"You didn't like the bouncy seat, remember? Next time we'll buy one that bounces better." With sweet reasoning, Chad suggested we give it away because others need it right now and we won't use it again anytime soon. At least that's the plan.
It seems like everyone around me is having their second baby. I posted about this a few days ago. Since that post, two more people have popped up pregnant. Part of me worries that I'll get left in the dust and be the only mama with just one baby. This is silly, I know... maybe it has do with fear of being left out? But when I truly consider having another baby, I'm not ready. I am enjoying this time with Melody so much. I don't want anything to distract from it. Of course, if we turned up surprise pregnant again, I'd be ecstatic. There's something really different about planning out an event and God just handing it to you unexpectedly.
As I loaded my station wagon with the stuff, a wave of sentimental memories came over me. I thought back to three hour swing naps, showers with the bouncy seat nearby, and miles and miles of car time with the red & black used car seat. I ran inside the house, grabbed the phone, and called Chad.
"All of the sudden I'm not sure if we should give this stuff away. Do you think we should keep it? Or am I just being sentimental?"
"You didn't like the bouncy seat, remember? Next time we'll buy one that bounces better." With sweet reasoning, Chad suggested we give it away because others need it right now and we won't use it again anytime soon. At least that's the plan.
It seems like everyone around me is having their second baby. I posted about this a few days ago. Since that post, two more people have popped up pregnant. Part of me worries that I'll get left in the dust and be the only mama with just one baby. This is silly, I know... maybe it has do with fear of being left out? But when I truly consider having another baby, I'm not ready. I am enjoying this time with Melody so much. I don't want anything to distract from it. Of course, if we turned up surprise pregnant again, I'd be ecstatic. There's something really different about planning out an event and God just handing it to you unexpectedly.
1/30/2006
laptop and headboard
My coffee turned out weak today. I'm drinking from a fun striped starbucks mug from my sister-in-law. She is a good gift-giver. She recently got a job at Starbucks, so we'll be getting free coffee every now and then. (Starbucks employees get a pound of free coffee a week.)
Last week was one of big purchases for me. First I ordered a new Mac!! For months we've been ready to buy a new laptop. When we moved in October we decided to keep our other house as a rental. It took four long months to find a renter. (Lesson: don't put a house on the market in October.) Paying two mortgages was not fun. We waited until we had renters to buy the computer, just to be safe. (Sidenote: our tenants are expecting their first baby. It was hard for me to leave Melody's first nursery, so this news made me happy. I hope they enjoy her aqua blue room.)
I decided to get a 14" iBook. I wanted a laptop because we are limited to dialup internet access at our house. This way, if I have to do heavy duty web photo searching or something like that, I can take the laptop to a wireless place and go crazy. It's also just so fun to have a laptop. For travel, for convenience, and for feeling cool. (Like Carrie Bradshaw.)
The other big purchase was a queen size headboard!!! Chad and I have been very slow in aquiring furniture. It's a foreign world to him. We have a bed. What's the purpose of a headboard? Well, on Saturday we decided to move our bed to a different spot in the room. (He likes to mix things up every few months. I prefer to find the right placement and keep it there, but whatever.) As we were deciding which wall to put the bed on, I sighed and said, "It doesn't matter. Let's just keep it away from the doorway so people in the hallway don't see it. It's ugly."
This is the point when he changed into a different person than my husband. He said, "We can get a headboard if you want."
"Really...?"
"Yea, why don't you go buy one today?"
"Really?!"
Less than five minutes later I was in my car, on the highway, heading toward Pier 1, with a huge smile plastered to my face. In the midst of my happy dancing thoughts came a question, "What happened to my husband?" I'd never seen this impulsive, nonchalant side of him before. I embraced it, obviously. (It's a good thing he doesn't tell me to buy things more often, because you can see that we'd be in trouble.)
At Pier 1 I picked a dark wood, asain inspired, queen size headboard. It was on sale for $229. It took us over five years to drop $229 on a headboard when we spend that kind of money on other things all the time. For instance, traveling. Three years ago we spent $1200 EACH on plane tickets to Africa. (That was actually a really good deal too.) It's also easy for us to spend money to help others. It feels good and right to send monthly help to the orphans we met in Africa. I'm glad we have deep pockets when it comes to giving.
It was such a different thrill to buy something for myself. As we set up the bed in our room last night I felt like a little girl. Afterward, I spent 2 hours folding laundry, vacuuming dust bunnies, putting away piles of random things, and hanging things on the walls. Typically, our room the one that goes unnoticed. This morning, it was fun to wake up to a clean, happy, furnished room. I made the bed right after I got up. (Unheard of.)
Back to the shopping day. On my drive home from the store, the question returned, "What happened to my husband?" I called him to say I was on my way. He said, "You'll need to use your 5% from the next few freelance jobs to pay for the headboard." Upon hearing his words a smile danced on my lips and contentedly thought, "Ah-ha. There's my husband."
(I use 5% of my freelance income for ME, whether that be toward furniture, decor, clothes, or mochas. It's a great incentive to get more work.)
Last week was one of big purchases for me. First I ordered a new Mac!! For months we've been ready to buy a new laptop. When we moved in October we decided to keep our other house as a rental. It took four long months to find a renter. (Lesson: don't put a house on the market in October.) Paying two mortgages was not fun. We waited until we had renters to buy the computer, just to be safe. (Sidenote: our tenants are expecting their first baby. It was hard for me to leave Melody's first nursery, so this news made me happy. I hope they enjoy her aqua blue room.)
I decided to get a 14" iBook. I wanted a laptop because we are limited to dialup internet access at our house. This way, if I have to do heavy duty web photo searching or something like that, I can take the laptop to a wireless place and go crazy. It's also just so fun to have a laptop. For travel, for convenience, and for feeling cool. (Like Carrie Bradshaw.)
The other big purchase was a queen size headboard!!! Chad and I have been very slow in aquiring furniture. It's a foreign world to him. We have a bed. What's the purpose of a headboard? Well, on Saturday we decided to move our bed to a different spot in the room. (He likes to mix things up every few months. I prefer to find the right placement and keep it there, but whatever.) As we were deciding which wall to put the bed on, I sighed and said, "It doesn't matter. Let's just keep it away from the doorway so people in the hallway don't see it. It's ugly."
This is the point when he changed into a different person than my husband. He said, "We can get a headboard if you want."
"Really...?"
"Yea, why don't you go buy one today?"
"Really?!"
Less than five minutes later I was in my car, on the highway, heading toward Pier 1, with a huge smile plastered to my face. In the midst of my happy dancing thoughts came a question, "What happened to my husband?" I'd never seen this impulsive, nonchalant side of him before. I embraced it, obviously. (It's a good thing he doesn't tell me to buy things more often, because you can see that we'd be in trouble.)
At Pier 1 I picked a dark wood, asain inspired, queen size headboard. It was on sale for $229. It took us over five years to drop $229 on a headboard when we spend that kind of money on other things all the time. For instance, traveling. Three years ago we spent $1200 EACH on plane tickets to Africa. (That was actually a really good deal too.) It's also easy for us to spend money to help others. It feels good and right to send monthly help to the orphans we met in Africa. I'm glad we have deep pockets when it comes to giving.
It was such a different thrill to buy something for myself. As we set up the bed in our room last night I felt like a little girl. Afterward, I spent 2 hours folding laundry, vacuuming dust bunnies, putting away piles of random things, and hanging things on the walls. Typically, our room the one that goes unnoticed. This morning, it was fun to wake up to a clean, happy, furnished room. I made the bed right after I got up. (Unheard of.)
Back to the shopping day. On my drive home from the store, the question returned, "What happened to my husband?" I called him to say I was on my way. He said, "You'll need to use your 5% from the next few freelance jobs to pay for the headboard." Upon hearing his words a smile danced on my lips and contentedly thought, "Ah-ha. There's my husband."
(I use 5% of my freelance income for ME, whether that be toward furniture, decor, clothes, or mochas. It's a great incentive to get more work.)
1/26/2006
about being home
We moved four months ago. I'm finally feeling settled in our new house. It takes me forever to get established in a new place. I am not one of those people who has stuff on the walls three days after moving. Try more like a year. It's bad, and I don't know why I'm this way. My mom and her mom are the same though. Those darn genes!
Awhile back I read an article in Real Simple magazine about organization and cleaning. I was mesmerized. The article made so much sense; I don't know why I can't think that way on my own. For instance, it said to keep things in the room where you will use them. So if I'm going to iron in my bedroom, store the iron in that room. Duh. As I unpacked, I followed this rule. Now the packaging tape, craft paper, wrapping paper, gift bags, are all together in the office. I put things together on my desk. It works like a charm.
I'm also figuring out a way to keep things tidy. I realized that Mondays are a good day for me to clean. I've had social interaction all weekend because Chad is home and we hang out with our friends. This makes me content to be home all day on Mondays. (Most weekdays I get stir crazy around 12:30, and I bolt outta the house like it's on fire. It's the curse of being an extrovert.)
So, last Monday I stayed home all day, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. It felt so good. The rest of the week I simply tidied up each day. I love the way the kitchen/breakfast area looks when everything is put away. I have a lone square candle on the round kitchen table. When the room clean, I like the light the candle and enjoy the ambiance. I know, I know... what a thrill. I'm not positive I've found the secret to a clean home, but I think I'm on the right track, and I'm excited about it. When things are clean I have more creative ideas for life in general.
Another thing I'm excited about these days is my new babysitter. She's a college student and she comes over for two hours on Mondays and Wednesdays. I am paying her $6 a hour, plus $3 per trip, because we live about 20 minutes from the campus.
I look forward to this four hours of solace with all my heart. So far, I've been home each time she has been here. I go into the office, close the french doors, and get busy. I pay bills. prepare for my class, email, and get a grip on non-mom stuff. Even paying bills is fun when I can focus. My next huge task is to organize all the papers that have mounded up since 2004. I might have to have a babysitting marathon to get a handle on that project.
Aftering becoming a stay at home mom, I didn't have many problems adjusting to the mom part of the task. I love taking care of Melody's needs. The home part of the job has been harder for me to master. It's been 13 months and I'm finding my groove. It feels good.
Awhile back I read an article in Real Simple magazine about organization and cleaning. I was mesmerized. The article made so much sense; I don't know why I can't think that way on my own. For instance, it said to keep things in the room where you will use them. So if I'm going to iron in my bedroom, store the iron in that room. Duh. As I unpacked, I followed this rule. Now the packaging tape, craft paper, wrapping paper, gift bags, are all together in the office. I put things together on my desk. It works like a charm.
I'm also figuring out a way to keep things tidy. I realized that Mondays are a good day for me to clean. I've had social interaction all weekend because Chad is home and we hang out with our friends. This makes me content to be home all day on Mondays. (Most weekdays I get stir crazy around 12:30, and I bolt outta the house like it's on fire. It's the curse of being an extrovert.)
So, last Monday I stayed home all day, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. It felt so good. The rest of the week I simply tidied up each day. I love the way the kitchen/breakfast area looks when everything is put away. I have a lone square candle on the round kitchen table. When the room clean, I like the light the candle and enjoy the ambiance. I know, I know... what a thrill. I'm not positive I've found the secret to a clean home, but I think I'm on the right track, and I'm excited about it. When things are clean I have more creative ideas for life in general.
Another thing I'm excited about these days is my new babysitter. She's a college student and she comes over for two hours on Mondays and Wednesdays. I am paying her $6 a hour, plus $3 per trip, because we live about 20 minutes from the campus.
I look forward to this four hours of solace with all my heart. So far, I've been home each time she has been here. I go into the office, close the french doors, and get busy. I pay bills. prepare for my class, email, and get a grip on non-mom stuff. Even paying bills is fun when I can focus. My next huge task is to organize all the papers that have mounded up since 2004. I might have to have a babysitting marathon to get a handle on that project.
Aftering becoming a stay at home mom, I didn't have many problems adjusting to the mom part of the task. I love taking care of Melody's needs. The home part of the job has been harder for me to master. It's been 13 months and I'm finding my groove. It feels good.
1/22/2006
my first rainbow
Three of my friends had babies recently. All of them gave birth to their second-borns. Seeing these newbies reminds me of so much. Memories of Melody's first year blur together, forming a colorful timeline in my mind.
When she was brand new I'd panic at the end of each day. Being up with her in the night was tedious. I dreaded the solitary task. The minutes clicked by so slowly as her needs kept my heavy eyelids from rest. Those difficult nights are the blue and purple memories.
Complementing them are brighter colors. These times are numerous and hold angelic hues of yellow and orange. Each day around 10:00am I'd marvel at how wonderful it was to be at home with my baby instead of at work. After working full time for 6 years, being home each day was a surreal change. We would lay side-by-side on the queen size bed. She nursed and I stared at her tiny body so close and warm and light. Occasionally I'd wake up to realize we'd both been asleep for hours, perhaps after one of the hard nights mentioned above. We shared baths, read Jane Austen, went for walks, danced slowly to Sinead O'Connor's, Thank You For Hearing Me, and stared at each other all the time.
I cannot leave out the vague grey memories. These come from foggy, tearful hours of confusion and unrest. It took four months for me to fully accept and realize I was depressed. The magnitude didn't dawn on me until an antidepressant began working. Here is where the greenest, happiest memory lies. Melody was late in her fourth month. One morning I bathed and dressed her. Then, as I held my clean fresh baby close, I sang to her. Somewhere in the middle of the song it came to me; it was the first time I'd ever sung to her. It was in that bright green moment that I knew taking the antidepressant was the right thing to do.
When Melody was nine months, we stopped breast feeding. Although I had misgivings about weaning before 12 months, it was a relief to stop wondering if my milk was enough for her. With this relief, came times of red and pink. I had new energy. My cycle returned and I lost the rest of the pregnancy weight. Melody and I played together more as she grew into an active infant. She loved the bucket swings at the park. String cheese became her favorite snack. She learned to say, "boo!" just like I did. It was also in during this time that I began to rock her to sleep each night. I'd sing and she'd nuzzle close, her head under my chin and her fingers in her mouth. I'd sing, Were You There. At the end of the song I'd add a stanza and sing,
Were you there when He gave me Melody?
Were you there when He gave me Melody?
Oh-oh-oh-oh, sometimes...
It causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when He gave me Melody?
Now she is 13 months old. The other day I started putting sparkly clips in her wispy hair. She wears regular shirts instead of onsies. She shows us news personality traits everyday. Sometimes sneaky. Other times shy. She's even been known to flirt on occasion!
As I am introduced to my friends' newborns, something inside me stirs. I think, "Ahh, so tiny and amazing and perfect," and I wonder if I'm ready for another. I remember the rainbow of Melody's first year. Part of me wants to remain with only one child for another year; to spend each day fully with her. Another part longs and hopes for a new baby to come and bring a new rainbow to my life.
When she was brand new I'd panic at the end of each day. Being up with her in the night was tedious. I dreaded the solitary task. The minutes clicked by so slowly as her needs kept my heavy eyelids from rest. Those difficult nights are the blue and purple memories.
Complementing them are brighter colors. These times are numerous and hold angelic hues of yellow and orange. Each day around 10:00am I'd marvel at how wonderful it was to be at home with my baby instead of at work. After working full time for 6 years, being home each day was a surreal change. We would lay side-by-side on the queen size bed. She nursed and I stared at her tiny body so close and warm and light. Occasionally I'd wake up to realize we'd both been asleep for hours, perhaps after one of the hard nights mentioned above. We shared baths, read Jane Austen, went for walks, danced slowly to Sinead O'Connor's, Thank You For Hearing Me, and stared at each other all the time.
I cannot leave out the vague grey memories. These come from foggy, tearful hours of confusion and unrest. It took four months for me to fully accept and realize I was depressed. The magnitude didn't dawn on me until an antidepressant began working. Here is where the greenest, happiest memory lies. Melody was late in her fourth month. One morning I bathed and dressed her. Then, as I held my clean fresh baby close, I sang to her. Somewhere in the middle of the song it came to me; it was the first time I'd ever sung to her. It was in that bright green moment that I knew taking the antidepressant was the right thing to do.
When Melody was nine months, we stopped breast feeding. Although I had misgivings about weaning before 12 months, it was a relief to stop wondering if my milk was enough for her. With this relief, came times of red and pink. I had new energy. My cycle returned and I lost the rest of the pregnancy weight. Melody and I played together more as she grew into an active infant. She loved the bucket swings at the park. String cheese became her favorite snack. She learned to say, "boo!" just like I did. It was also in during this time that I began to rock her to sleep each night. I'd sing and she'd nuzzle close, her head under my chin and her fingers in her mouth. I'd sing, Were You There. At the end of the song I'd add a stanza and sing,
Were you there when He gave me Melody?
Were you there when He gave me Melody?
Oh-oh-oh-oh, sometimes...
It causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when He gave me Melody?
Now she is 13 months old. The other day I started putting sparkly clips in her wispy hair. She wears regular shirts instead of onsies. She shows us news personality traits everyday. Sometimes sneaky. Other times shy. She's even been known to flirt on occasion!
As I am introduced to my friends' newborns, something inside me stirs. I think, "Ahh, so tiny and amazing and perfect," and I wonder if I'm ready for another. I remember the rainbow of Melody's first year. Part of me wants to remain with only one child for another year; to spend each day fully with her. Another part longs and hopes for a new baby to come and bring a new rainbow to my life.
1/16/2006
milk talk
I've never purchased so much milk in my life. Lately, we've been going through about 2 gallons a week. Chad and I are not big milk drinkers. We used to have a hard time finishing half a gallon before the date expired. Now I don't even look at the date because it's gone in less than three days! I give Melody soy milk half the time and cow milk the other half. As a child I had problems with cows milk, so I'm nervous about flooding her system with it. When Melody started drinking milk a few weeks ago, I began to buy organic. I do not want her ingesting unnecessary hormones, namely estrogen. Excess estrogen is linked to many health problems, like endometriosis. Also, the organic milk tastes so much better! I've begun buying it for Chad and myself as well. So Melody gets the whole milk and we get the skim milk. In theory, that is. I find myself sneaking whole milk for coffee, mashed potatoes, oreo snacks, and many other "just this once" instances. I have a feeling Chad is doing the same since the skim milk container remains heavy days longer than the other. There is just something about the consistency and taste of the creamy, heavy, smooth, cold, whole milk. I sound like a commercial.
1/11/2006
inspired
I've been reviewing some design stuff this week as I prepare for my next class. While looking through some old issues of Communication Arts, I found inspiration in articles about Paul Rand and Herb Lubalin. I stared at their logos and posters with fascination. Then I perused Michael Schwab's website as well as a few Charles S Anderson sites. I love the simple work of these designers. I like the bold, flat color used in Michael Schwab's stuff. He's the one who did the series of posters for Northern California sites.
Today my mom and I walked on the trail in Siloam. The day was bright and clear, the air cool and crisp; perfect weather for a brisk walk. Melody loved it. By the end of the walk she was jabbering excitedly. She moved her arms around as if she were a queen commanding the grass and the trees from her stroller throne.
One the way home she feel asleep and is still napping. I need to take her outside more often.
Today my mom and I walked on the trail in Siloam. The day was bright and clear, the air cool and crisp; perfect weather for a brisk walk. Melody loved it. By the end of the walk she was jabbering excitedly. She moved her arms around as if she were a queen commanding the grass and the trees from her stroller throne.
One the way home she feel asleep and is still napping. I need to take her outside more often.
1/10/2006
feeling good
This morning I feel good. Melody's napping. I'm wrapped up in my warm baby blue robe. I'm in the middle of a mug of hot chocolate made of Ghirardelli mocha chocolate powder. I didn't feel like coffee this morning.
Last night I taught my first class of the semester. I introduced the students to Illustrator. I was pleased to discover only a couple of them have worked in the program before. I think the kids will learn well though as they kept up well with the basics. Teaching them to use the Pen Tool is the most challenging. Those bezier control handles are just counter-intuitive. I didn't know how to explain it to them. I had them practice by trying to write their name in cursive with it. They did pretty good.
I have assignments lined up for the next four weeks, but I'm not happy with them. The idea is to give them a pdf or a jpeg file of an Illustrator document and have them recreate the artwork on their own. The current ones are outdated logos and illustrations. I think they'd be more motivated about learning the software techniques if I were having them create something more exciting. I plan to go to Barnes and Noble today. I will skim the new design publications, looking for inspiration.
I felt good after the class. Of course there are things I wish I'd done a little differently, but overall I was pleased. I slept really good last night, having it behind me.
Melody is so much fun these days. She shows us affection by leaning toward us with her head down. She touches us with her forehead this way. It is so sweet. She calls everyone, including me, daa-dee. She only says ma-ma when she's hurt, scared, or tired. She also says doggie and bear. While in San Francisco, we saw a huge horse in the street. She pointed and said excitedly, "Doggie!"
Her hair is long and wispy around her ears and at the nape of her neck. She has six teeth -- four on top and two on bottom. The front two are very large with a big space inbetween them. Her eyes continue to mystify us. The best way to describe them is dark green... almost hunter. She looks very much like her daddy, who also has green eyes.
I'm feeling good these days. I often forget to take my antidepressant. I don't know how much longer I'll stay on it. I think springtime would be a good time to try going off it. I am curious to see if I'm "better."
I'd better go use the rest of Melody's nap time to take a quick shower.
Last night I taught my first class of the semester. I introduced the students to Illustrator. I was pleased to discover only a couple of them have worked in the program before. I think the kids will learn well though as they kept up well with the basics. Teaching them to use the Pen Tool is the most challenging. Those bezier control handles are just counter-intuitive. I didn't know how to explain it to them. I had them practice by trying to write their name in cursive with it. They did pretty good.
I have assignments lined up for the next four weeks, but I'm not happy with them. The idea is to give them a pdf or a jpeg file of an Illustrator document and have them recreate the artwork on their own. The current ones are outdated logos and illustrations. I think they'd be more motivated about learning the software techniques if I were having them create something more exciting. I plan to go to Barnes and Noble today. I will skim the new design publications, looking for inspiration.
I felt good after the class. Of course there are things I wish I'd done a little differently, but overall I was pleased. I slept really good last night, having it behind me.
Melody is so much fun these days. She shows us affection by leaning toward us with her head down. She touches us with her forehead this way. It is so sweet. She calls everyone, including me, daa-dee. She only says ma-ma when she's hurt, scared, or tired. She also says doggie and bear. While in San Francisco, we saw a huge horse in the street. She pointed and said excitedly, "Doggie!"
Her hair is long and wispy around her ears and at the nape of her neck. She has six teeth -- four on top and two on bottom. The front two are very large with a big space inbetween them. Her eyes continue to mystify us. The best way to describe them is dark green... almost hunter. She looks very much like her daddy, who also has green eyes.
I'm feeling good these days. I often forget to take my antidepressant. I don't know how much longer I'll stay on it. I think springtime would be a good time to try going off it. I am curious to see if I'm "better."
I'd better go use the rest of Melody's nap time to take a quick shower.
1/09/2006
finally finally finally
Hi everyone! I'm blogging from HOME. Today we finally got our internet connection up and running. It's been an insane process as slow as dial-up itself. Turns out, we're 400 feet outside of the telephone service for the town we live in. This means we have our phone service through a itty bitty town that is 25 minutes away, making calls to all our friends and businesses long distance.
But let me stop boring you with that right now!
It's going to take some time to get back in the swing of things with blogging. Before the move I was doing so well... it was in a groove. Now I'm kinda stuck again. What do people wanna hear? Here is a rundown of recent and present stuff in my life:
• Melody turned one a couple weeks ago. (!) It's weird to say that I have a one-year-old. She is close to walking, but does not seem to want it very badly.
• We spent a week in northern California for the holidays. Chad and I were in a wedding. Melody did awesome on the flights, but it wore us all out.
• I start teaching a software class at JBU tonight. It will be every Monday evening from 6:30 to 9:00. I taught the same class a couple years ago. I'm nervous and barely prepared, which I hate. I think I could really enjoy this teaching stuff if I'd stop putting prep off to the last minute.
• I've been doing more freelance work for DaySpring lately. It is also a love-hate thing. I love the challenge, the interaction and the money. The stress and the juggling of everything makes is hard to enjoy though.
• I found a babysitter! She is a JBU student and has taken care of Melody twice so far. Both times I've been working in the house simotaneously. She plays with Melody well. Today Melody was laughing hysterically as she learned how to kick a plastic walmart bag.
• Living in the country is nice. Now it is strange to drive through neighborhoods. After only three months, the country feels normal. (Although I'm still bitter about dialup and I'm still freaked about ticks.)
• Our house is still very unfinished. Chad tries, but is not able to make fast progress because of his work, lack of evening daylight, and general busyness. It does not help that I'm usually beckoning him to watch a tv with me when he gets off work.
• I'm happy to report that I am now two pounds BELOW my pre-pregnancy weight. Yayyyyyy.
That's all for now. I will try come up with something fun to read tomorrow.
But let me stop boring you with that right now!
It's going to take some time to get back in the swing of things with blogging. Before the move I was doing so well... it was in a groove. Now I'm kinda stuck again. What do people wanna hear? Here is a rundown of recent and present stuff in my life:
• Melody turned one a couple weeks ago. (!) It's weird to say that I have a one-year-old. She is close to walking, but does not seem to want it very badly.
• We spent a week in northern California for the holidays. Chad and I were in a wedding. Melody did awesome on the flights, but it wore us all out.
• I start teaching a software class at JBU tonight. It will be every Monday evening from 6:30 to 9:00. I taught the same class a couple years ago. I'm nervous and barely prepared, which I hate. I think I could really enjoy this teaching stuff if I'd stop putting prep off to the last minute.
• I've been doing more freelance work for DaySpring lately. It is also a love-hate thing. I love the challenge, the interaction and the money. The stress and the juggling of everything makes is hard to enjoy though.
• I found a babysitter! She is a JBU student and has taken care of Melody twice so far. Both times I've been working in the house simotaneously. She plays with Melody well. Today Melody was laughing hysterically as she learned how to kick a plastic walmart bag.
• Living in the country is nice. Now it is strange to drive through neighborhoods. After only three months, the country feels normal. (Although I'm still bitter about dialup and I'm still freaked about ticks.)
• Our house is still very unfinished. Chad tries, but is not able to make fast progress because of his work, lack of evening daylight, and general busyness. It does not help that I'm usually beckoning him to watch a tv with me when he gets off work.
• I'm happy to report that I am now two pounds BELOW my pre-pregnancy weight. Yayyyyyy.
That's all for now. I will try come up with something fun to read tomorrow.
11/26/2005
the midwest and the sisters
Our week vacation with the inlaws is coming to a close. Later today we'll head back to Arkansas. Spending time in the midwest is always strange for me. The flat wavy land. The crop fields. The lone farmhouses. Barns and silos. Straight highways. These characteristics are different from the places I've lived in Texas, California, and Arkansas. The thing that gets to me the most is the feeling of isolation. Some people find solice in this midwestern landscape, but for me is it is strange.
I've had a good time with Chad's sisters. Holly, the younger one, and I have spent the most time together. We've been to Starbucks several times. She always get a white chocolate mocha. I've discovered lattes; I like how simple and smooth they are. With all the holiday pie and cookies, I've been in the mood for coffee without chocolate, thus I tried something besides my usual cafe mocha.
Chelsea is engaged. She and her man are trying to figure out when to get married. Short engagment or long engagement? I always vote for short, but maybe in their case a long one is okay. Chad and I had a 3 month engagement and if we were to do it again, we'd make it even shorter. My philosophy is if you know you're going to get married, just do it. But circumstances make things different sometimes.
I'm starting to understand that my own life experiences are not always applicable to others. For instance, Holly has decided to go to a community college and live at home next semester instead of continuing on at the four year liberal arts Christian university where she's been. My heart sunk when I heard her plan. I had such a wonderful time at JBU and I wanted her to experience the same. She is leary of acquiring so much debt and she can get a nursing degree both ways, so she's coming home. After seeing the situation close up, I feel she's making a good decision, even though it's very different from my own.
Once we get home I will not be able to blog for awhile longer. I'm looking forward to the day when I can email and blog from my home office while sitting next to a window viewing trees and birds. Country living is wearing off on me. I'm looking forward to going home today.
I've had a good time with Chad's sisters. Holly, the younger one, and I have spent the most time together. We've been to Starbucks several times. She always get a white chocolate mocha. I've discovered lattes; I like how simple and smooth they are. With all the holiday pie and cookies, I've been in the mood for coffee without chocolate, thus I tried something besides my usual cafe mocha.
Chelsea is engaged. She and her man are trying to figure out when to get married. Short engagment or long engagement? I always vote for short, but maybe in their case a long one is okay. Chad and I had a 3 month engagement and if we were to do it again, we'd make it even shorter. My philosophy is if you know you're going to get married, just do it. But circumstances make things different sometimes.
I'm starting to understand that my own life experiences are not always applicable to others. For instance, Holly has decided to go to a community college and live at home next semester instead of continuing on at the four year liberal arts Christian university where she's been. My heart sunk when I heard her plan. I had such a wonderful time at JBU and I wanted her to experience the same. She is leary of acquiring so much debt and she can get a nursing degree both ways, so she's coming home. After seeing the situation close up, I feel she's making a good decision, even though it's very different from my own.
Once we get home I will not be able to blog for awhile longer. I'm looking forward to the day when I can email and blog from my home office while sitting next to a window viewing trees and birds. Country living is wearing off on me. I'm looking forward to going home today.
11/24/2005
turkey day
Happy Thanksgiving! The day is winding up. Everyone is awake now. (Typically, this is a family of sleeper-inners.) Monkey bread is baking and coffee is brewing. Large homemade apple and pumpkin pies are on the counter; evidence of late night work. Later we'll have the full fledged meal including turkey, dressing, mashed potatos, green bean casserole, rolls, gravy, etc. You get the picture.
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. This could have something to do with the fact that we did not celebrate Christmas when I was a child, leaving T-Day alone in the holiday season. (More on that another time.) Thanksgiving is such a straight-forward celebration. There are no presents, which makes it less stressful. I love the whole idea of simply being grateful, too. Whether the graditude is for country, family, loved ones, a home, community, or just a hot meal... it's good to give thanks.
Have a great day!
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. This could have something to do with the fact that we did not celebrate Christmas when I was a child, leaving T-Day alone in the holiday season. (More on that another time.) Thanksgiving is such a straight-forward celebration. There are no presents, which makes it less stressful. I love the whole idea of simply being grateful, too. Whether the graditude is for country, family, loved ones, a home, community, or just a hot meal... it's good to give thanks.
Have a great day!
11/23/2005
pms talk & more on country living
The new house is coming along. Each week Chad checks things off his unending To-Do List. We now have towel racks, closet rods, doorknobs, light fixtures, and windows. Yes, when we moved in these things were not complete. (!) Having the inside of the house complete makes me very happy. I've adjusted to being in country. I enjoy it each day now.
I think my difficulty in adjusting had more to do with PMS than with the actual move. The old familiar symptoms hit me like a ton of bricks. Restlessness, desperation, irritability, and discontentment rolled in like fog, surrounding everything I did. I struggled to understand and then, Voila... the sun broke through. Cramps, backache, and numb legs replaced the end-of-the-world state of mind.
I was surprisingly delighted as my body kicked back into fertile mode. I guess I was worried it would take years instead of months, making it impossible to have another baby. This surprised me because I don't even want another baby yet. But knowing that it is possible is a good thing.
Melody is 11 months old now! In less than a month she'll be eating her first birthday cake. I can't wait to see her pointer finger discover frosting and crumbs for the first time. Her wispy hair is getting long around the nap of her neck, making her look more like a toddler than a baby. She has four large teeth now; all different lengths. Her new nickname is Snaggle Tooth.
We are still without a phone line and internet access. It seems we're on the border of two tiny podunk towns and they can't figure out who is responsible to provide our phone service. Lovely. Maybe by 2007 they will figure out how to give us the oldest, slowest dial-up service in the country. An old man actually knocked on our door last week to talk to me about the situation. I would have been ticked off about it except, I have this thing for old men. They absolutely melt my heart because I think they're so cute. This old guy had a bright smile and twinkling eyes. He reminded me of Clint Eastwood. How can I get mad at that?
One of my life goals is to compile a photo album with snapshots of old men.
I think my difficulty in adjusting had more to do with PMS than with the actual move. The old familiar symptoms hit me like a ton of bricks. Restlessness, desperation, irritability, and discontentment rolled in like fog, surrounding everything I did. I struggled to understand and then, Voila... the sun broke through. Cramps, backache, and numb legs replaced the end-of-the-world state of mind.
I was surprisingly delighted as my body kicked back into fertile mode. I guess I was worried it would take years instead of months, making it impossible to have another baby. This surprised me because I don't even want another baby yet. But knowing that it is possible is a good thing.
Melody is 11 months old now! In less than a month she'll be eating her first birthday cake. I can't wait to see her pointer finger discover frosting and crumbs for the first time. Her wispy hair is getting long around the nap of her neck, making her look more like a toddler than a baby. She has four large teeth now; all different lengths. Her new nickname is Snaggle Tooth.
We are still without a phone line and internet access. It seems we're on the border of two tiny podunk towns and they can't figure out who is responsible to provide our phone service. Lovely. Maybe by 2007 they will figure out how to give us the oldest, slowest dial-up service in the country. An old man actually knocked on our door last week to talk to me about the situation. I would have been ticked off about it except, I have this thing for old men. They absolutely melt my heart because I think they're so cute. This old guy had a bright smile and twinkling eyes. He reminded me of Clint Eastwood. How can I get mad at that?
One of my life goals is to compile a photo album with snapshots of old men.
10/19/2005
adjusting
I have differing reactions to being in the country at our new home. First, I have to say, I love the house. Although it isn't complete, I love it. The colors turned out great. The butter yellow kitchen is the best room of the house with stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and can lighting. I like the galley layout and the attached breakfast area is small and cozy. It is the perfect size for our little family.
The living room is also great. The walls are a muted blue creating a restful and soothing atmosphere. (The name of the blue is actually, Atmosphere!) The simple vaulted ceiling leads one's eyes to the Mission Style fan at the peak of the room. Our furniture works in the new house much better than it did in the previous one. The orange and khaki slipcovers blend into the color scheme with ease.
Even though I love the house, I don't feel at home yet. We've moved multiple times and this is the first time I haven't been able to settle into the new surrounding with ease. I have not slept well yet, and during the day I wander around the house as if it isn't my own. I am happy in the mornings, but by early afternoon, I begin to feel closed in and isolated. We're located 15 minutes from tiny Siloam and 25 minutes from beloved Fayetteville. Chad and I went to college in Siloam. I worked there for 4 years before Melody was born. To return now feels like taking a step backward. I often read magazines like Real Simple and daydream about big city living. Being in the country reinforces the fact that I'm far away from this big city dream.
I thought I was doing well hiding my slight misgivings about the country until yesterday when Chad said, "I feel like you don't want to be out here with me." He has intentionally included me in the house-building process. He said multiple times, "The inside of the house is yours. You can do whatever you want." He's given me this freedom so I will be happy living on his 22 acre dreamland. I am trying, but it is a fight.
There are things I love, though. The area surrounding the house is beautiful. Trees are all around, creating scattered sunlight and shade. Leaves continually fall in the autumn breeze. Am I crazy for feeling strange in such a pefect setting? I hope this new place feels like home soon.
The living room is also great. The walls are a muted blue creating a restful and soothing atmosphere. (The name of the blue is actually, Atmosphere!) The simple vaulted ceiling leads one's eyes to the Mission Style fan at the peak of the room. Our furniture works in the new house much better than it did in the previous one. The orange and khaki slipcovers blend into the color scheme with ease.
Even though I love the house, I don't feel at home yet. We've moved multiple times and this is the first time I haven't been able to settle into the new surrounding with ease. I have not slept well yet, and during the day I wander around the house as if it isn't my own. I am happy in the mornings, but by early afternoon, I begin to feel closed in and isolated. We're located 15 minutes from tiny Siloam and 25 minutes from beloved Fayetteville. Chad and I went to college in Siloam. I worked there for 4 years before Melody was born. To return now feels like taking a step backward. I often read magazines like Real Simple and daydream about big city living. Being in the country reinforces the fact that I'm far away from this big city dream.
I thought I was doing well hiding my slight misgivings about the country until yesterday when Chad said, "I feel like you don't want to be out here with me." He has intentionally included me in the house-building process. He said multiple times, "The inside of the house is yours. You can do whatever you want." He's given me this freedom so I will be happy living on his 22 acre dreamland. I am trying, but it is a fight.
There are things I love, though. The area surrounding the house is beautiful. Trees are all around, creating scattered sunlight and shade. Leaves continually fall in the autumn breeze. Am I crazy for feeling strange in such a pefect setting? I hope this new place feels like home soon.
duvet insanity solved
A couple days ago Laura walked into the house through the garage. She had a large, square, white item in her arms. I eyed her curiously with a question on my face. She smiled and said, "For you, Loca."
"What...huh?" My mind was occupied with moving plans.
"I read your blog. This was a wedding gift, but it's too hot for us so we can't use it. It's 86 x 86, just the size you need! It's yours."
How cool is that!!? The down comforter is fluffy, new, white, cloud-like, and the PERFECT size for my duvet cover. The first room I put together at our new house was the guest bedroom, because I was so excited to assemble the bed coverings. It looks awesome!
The walls are yellow. Two windows allow light to pour in, making the room bright and happy. Two bright blue-turquoise chair pads are tied to wooden chairs in the corner. On the bed, the fluffy comforter is smooth and inviting, with orange accent pillows piled atop the shams. The duvet is light blue with a mod orange pin-wheel pattern. A tan run sits askew on the rust concrete floor. It could be a beach house room.
Thanks Laura!
"What...huh?" My mind was occupied with moving plans.
"I read your blog. This was a wedding gift, but it's too hot for us so we can't use it. It's 86 x 86, just the size you need! It's yours."
How cool is that!!? The down comforter is fluffy, new, white, cloud-like, and the PERFECT size for my duvet cover. The first room I put together at our new house was the guest bedroom, because I was so excited to assemble the bed coverings. It looks awesome!
The walls are yellow. Two windows allow light to pour in, making the room bright and happy. Two bright blue-turquoise chair pads are tied to wooden chairs in the corner. On the bed, the fluffy comforter is smooth and inviting, with orange accent pillows piled atop the shams. The duvet is light blue with a mod orange pin-wheel pattern. A tan run sits askew on the rust concrete floor. It could be a beach house room.
Thanks Laura!
the move
We are in our new house. The move went remarkably smooth; we ended up with TONS of help. Three friends came from out of town and about 12 others from the area were present for the occasion. I was astounded at the turnout. Not only did they move all our boxes and furniture, they also cleaned the entire old house and unpacked most of the new one!
Laura and Sarah worked tirelessly on the new kitchen, unloading plates, appliances, cans, fridge food, etc. Brian put the crib and bed frames together. Todd packed and drove the Uhaul. Heather arranged the slipcovers superbly (a job I abhore). Liz put Melody's room together. (She is baby crazy these days.) Lauren dusted doors, mop board, and light fixtures at the old house. Traci cleaned the showers. Charlie moved the heavy, 20+ year old, orange, hide-a-bed for the 6th time. (He has helped us move every single time since we got married five years ago. This time he drove 7 hours from Nebraska!) Vance, Chris, Josh, Matt, Jared, Casey and Neil delivered boxes to assigned rooms until the truck was EMPTY.
Needless to say, I was dumbfounded by the help we received. I couldn't believe it. It was easy and fun with all of us together. By the end of the day we were exhausted. We sank onto couches, chairs, floor space and ate Eureka Pizza and drank Pale Ale and October Fest beer. I think I said Thank You over a hundred times. I had no idea it was even possible to accomplish so much in one day.
Laura and Sarah worked tirelessly on the new kitchen, unloading plates, appliances, cans, fridge food, etc. Brian put the crib and bed frames together. Todd packed and drove the Uhaul. Heather arranged the slipcovers superbly (a job I abhore). Liz put Melody's room together. (She is baby crazy these days.) Lauren dusted doors, mop board, and light fixtures at the old house. Traci cleaned the showers. Charlie moved the heavy, 20+ year old, orange, hide-a-bed for the 6th time. (He has helped us move every single time since we got married five years ago. This time he drove 7 hours from Nebraska!) Vance, Chris, Josh, Matt, Jared, Casey and Neil delivered boxes to assigned rooms until the truck was EMPTY.
Needless to say, I was dumbfounded by the help we received. I couldn't believe it. It was easy and fun with all of us together. By the end of the day we were exhausted. We sank onto couches, chairs, floor space and ate Eureka Pizza and drank Pale Ale and October Fest beer. I think I said Thank You over a hundred times. I had no idea it was even possible to accomplish so much in one day.
10/12/2005
hello, my name is rebekah. i am a nag.
Being in a marriage relationship gets tricky sometimes. Recently, I saw myself in a new light. I am a nag. (Gasp.) This is something I have desperately tried NOT to be. Growing up, there was nagging in my home. I entered marriage thinking it an unnecessary form of communication. I likened it to yelling. If one resorts to yelling in order to get attention, then the opposing party will wait for yelling before he/she responds. Yada, yada, yada. This all made total sense in theory.
Chad and I started our relationship on strictly no nagging terms. I was careful to let him do what he pleased. This pertained to facial hair, clothing style, driving techniques, eating habits, and a myriad of other personal things. If we were talking in the car and his favorite song came on the radio, I'd carefully stop talking so he could listen to his song. Once it was over, we'd resume. He didn't require this behavior; but showed appreciation for it. I took pride in the fact that I was not one of "those" girlfriends. You know, the kind that are controlling and clingy. Looking back, I think much of this was a facade.
I was trying hard to be the right type of girlfriend. Maybe because I was insecure? Maybe because I hadn't dated anyone else? I think I just really really liked him, and I wanted him to like me, too.
Fastforward five years. We're married with a baby, building a house, and about to move. It's a Saturday morning. I'm running a garage sale in our driveway. Chad is bustling around, trying to get things together for a day of work at the new house. I remind Chad that he needs to put a For Rent sign in the front yard. He stops what he's doing and spends 15 or 20 minutes on the task. I am mildly aware of his actions. The next thing I know, there is a sign in the yard. Sticking out from underneath the small For Rent sign is a long narrow section of signage from a previous sign. It shows on either side of the Rent sign. It is visually distracting and ugly (to me).
"Baaabe... that's not going to work. It looks horrible. It's not readable. LOOK at it."
He squints at me from across garage, the morning sun in his eyes. Locals are rummaging through our junk in the driveway. He replies, "Well, that is the only way it'll stay stuck to the stake. Sorry." His tone indicates that he's finished working on it, despite my verdict of unacceptability. I push harder:
"Usually you come up with better solutions than that."
He remains silent and disappears into the house as I deal with a yard sale customer. The next thing I know, he briskly walks to his truck, which is parked at the curb. He gets in and speeds away. He's obviously angry. He never leaves without saying goodbye. I walk to the end of the driveway, watching in disbelief, wondering if he'll really leave the neighborhood. He's gone. I had no idea my words would have that kind of an effect. I began to replay them in my head. Oh no. I was horrible.
Less than five minutes later, Chad's black Tundra reappeard on our street. As he got our of the truck, I stood up from my camping chair station and took two little steps toward him. He walked the rest of the way to me, his eyes steady on mine. As he neared he said, "I don't want to be like that." I apologized for my harsh words. In the five minutes of his absense I had fixed the sign with a creative solution: I taped white index cards over the offending extra signage and drew large bold arrows pointing in toward the sign. It looked like a cute little custom sign.
After making up, we said goodbye and he left again. A few minutes later I came inside the house. My mom was here; I told her we had had a tiff. I said it was due to my nagging him. She paused and chose her words carefully. "Bekah, I've noticed that you nag Chad often. He takes it and says nothing." I gulped and asked for more details. She could not give me an example. She tried to be sweet and sensitive, but honest. My phone rang and I stumbled out of the half packed bedroom to get away, tears brimming in my eyes.
Once alone, I cried. I felt so blind. Why couldn't I see myself the way others did? I hated myself and the blindness. I closed the garage sale with tears spilling down my cheeks. Neighboors eyed me with curiousity. I shut the garage door, and went to my bathroom. As I stepped into the hot shower, I wondered, "Is Chad as happy as I am in our marriage?"
I spent the rest of the day thinking about us. I remembered the way I intentionally tried not to nag him in the early days of our relationship. What changed? Was it that I was secure and comfortable with us? Maybe. But I still want him to enjoy being around me. If we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, it should be pleasant for both of us.
By the end of the day, I was exhuasted from self-introspection. The following morning the three of us went out to breakfast. Melody was an angel and we were able to talk one-on-one. I told him about the day before. I apologized for being a Nag. We discussed how we felt. He told me that I'm unpleasant when in a bad mood. Other than that, he didn't have anything to complain about. Whew. I was relieved to hear he is still happy with us.
I want to be a good wife. I want to make him happy. I want to make him smile on a daily basis. In our wedding vows we spoke of making our home a place of refuge. A place of safety, warmth, and comfort. I want with all my heart for this to be the case. I am trying to remember to ask God for strength, sensitivity, grace, and self control. It is when I try to do these things myself that I fail. I need help.
Chad and I started our relationship on strictly no nagging terms. I was careful to let him do what he pleased. This pertained to facial hair, clothing style, driving techniques, eating habits, and a myriad of other personal things. If we were talking in the car and his favorite song came on the radio, I'd carefully stop talking so he could listen to his song. Once it was over, we'd resume. He didn't require this behavior; but showed appreciation for it. I took pride in the fact that I was not one of "those" girlfriends. You know, the kind that are controlling and clingy. Looking back, I think much of this was a facade.
I was trying hard to be the right type of girlfriend. Maybe because I was insecure? Maybe because I hadn't dated anyone else? I think I just really really liked him, and I wanted him to like me, too.
Fastforward five years. We're married with a baby, building a house, and about to move. It's a Saturday morning. I'm running a garage sale in our driveway. Chad is bustling around, trying to get things together for a day of work at the new house. I remind Chad that he needs to put a For Rent sign in the front yard. He stops what he's doing and spends 15 or 20 minutes on the task. I am mildly aware of his actions. The next thing I know, there is a sign in the yard. Sticking out from underneath the small For Rent sign is a long narrow section of signage from a previous sign. It shows on either side of the Rent sign. It is visually distracting and ugly (to me).
"Baaabe... that's not going to work. It looks horrible. It's not readable. LOOK at it."
He squints at me from across garage, the morning sun in his eyes. Locals are rummaging through our junk in the driveway. He replies, "Well, that is the only way it'll stay stuck to the stake. Sorry." His tone indicates that he's finished working on it, despite my verdict of unacceptability. I push harder:
"Usually you come up with better solutions than that."
He remains silent and disappears into the house as I deal with a yard sale customer. The next thing I know, he briskly walks to his truck, which is parked at the curb. He gets in and speeds away. He's obviously angry. He never leaves without saying goodbye. I walk to the end of the driveway, watching in disbelief, wondering if he'll really leave the neighborhood. He's gone. I had no idea my words would have that kind of an effect. I began to replay them in my head. Oh no. I was horrible.
Less than five minutes later, Chad's black Tundra reappeard on our street. As he got our of the truck, I stood up from my camping chair station and took two little steps toward him. He walked the rest of the way to me, his eyes steady on mine. As he neared he said, "I don't want to be like that." I apologized for my harsh words. In the five minutes of his absense I had fixed the sign with a creative solution: I taped white index cards over the offending extra signage and drew large bold arrows pointing in toward the sign. It looked like a cute little custom sign.
After making up, we said goodbye and he left again. A few minutes later I came inside the house. My mom was here; I told her we had had a tiff. I said it was due to my nagging him. She paused and chose her words carefully. "Bekah, I've noticed that you nag Chad often. He takes it and says nothing." I gulped and asked for more details. She could not give me an example. She tried to be sweet and sensitive, but honest. My phone rang and I stumbled out of the half packed bedroom to get away, tears brimming in my eyes.
Once alone, I cried. I felt so blind. Why couldn't I see myself the way others did? I hated myself and the blindness. I closed the garage sale with tears spilling down my cheeks. Neighboors eyed me with curiousity. I shut the garage door, and went to my bathroom. As I stepped into the hot shower, I wondered, "Is Chad as happy as I am in our marriage?"
I spent the rest of the day thinking about us. I remembered the way I intentionally tried not to nag him in the early days of our relationship. What changed? Was it that I was secure and comfortable with us? Maybe. But I still want him to enjoy being around me. If we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, it should be pleasant for both of us.
By the end of the day, I was exhuasted from self-introspection. The following morning the three of us went out to breakfast. Melody was an angel and we were able to talk one-on-one. I told him about the day before. I apologized for being a Nag. We discussed how we felt. He told me that I'm unpleasant when in a bad mood. Other than that, he didn't have anything to complain about. Whew. I was relieved to hear he is still happy with us.
I want to be a good wife. I want to make him happy. I want to make him smile on a daily basis. In our wedding vows we spoke of making our home a place of refuge. A place of safety, warmth, and comfort. I want with all my heart for this to be the case. I am trying to remember to ask God for strength, sensitivity, grace, and self control. It is when I try to do these things myself that I fail. I need help.
10/11/2005
duvet insanity
What's the deal with Duvet Covers? I recently bought one at Target. It is labeled as a size full/queen. It was on clearance for $15, so I purchased it for our guest room. After arriving home with it, I realized I don't have a comforter to put inside it. Argh. For the past few weeks I've been searching for an inexpensive comforter to use with the blasted duvet cover. Here's the catch... full/queen sizes differ! The duvet I have is 86 x 86. I have yet to find a comforter this exact size. What am I suppose to do?? Who thought of duvet covers anyway? It's like the equivalant to a slipcover. Everyone knows that for a slipcover to look GOOD, it costs as much as an actual couch. What's the point in that? Why not just buy a new couch?
Here's my question... can I make my own filler for this new duvet cover I have? If so, what should I use? The thing with going this route is, I know I'll end up spending more money on the insides than I did on the cover! Not to mention my time. Simple projects never turn out simple.
For instance, when I was pregnant I made a ribbon mobile for Melody's room. I saw the idea in a Martha Stewart Kids magazine (very cool publication, by the way). I bought a medium size embroidery hoop and tons of ribbon. I cut the ribbon into 20" strips. Then I draped the strips over the hoop, creating a ring of dangling colorful ribbon. I used double stick tape and glue to make it all stick together. I had to return to Hobby Lobby three times to buy more ribbon in order to make the thing look right. I ended up spending over $20 on it. Looking back, I don't regret it because it turned out really cool and Melody loves it. But when I started the project I thought it would be a fun way to make an inexpensive mobile. (My parents ended up getting her a Winnie the Pooh mobile, so the ribbon creation hangs over the changing table.)
With that said, are there any duvet suggestions for me? Thanks!
Here's my question... can I make my own filler for this new duvet cover I have? If so, what should I use? The thing with going this route is, I know I'll end up spending more money on the insides than I did on the cover! Not to mention my time. Simple projects never turn out simple.
For instance, when I was pregnant I made a ribbon mobile for Melody's room. I saw the idea in a Martha Stewart Kids magazine (very cool publication, by the way). I bought a medium size embroidery hoop and tons of ribbon. I cut the ribbon into 20" strips. Then I draped the strips over the hoop, creating a ring of dangling colorful ribbon. I used double stick tape and glue to make it all stick together. I had to return to Hobby Lobby three times to buy more ribbon in order to make the thing look right. I ended up spending over $20 on it. Looking back, I don't regret it because it turned out really cool and Melody loves it. But when I started the project I thought it would be a fun way to make an inexpensive mobile. (My parents ended up getting her a Winnie the Pooh mobile, so the ribbon creation hangs over the changing table.)
With that said, are there any duvet suggestions for me? Thanks!
10/10/2005
catch all
The move is looming. Six days. We have a rent sign in the front yard. So far, we've received two inquiring calls. We're nervous because we've never rented to anyone before. We thought about having a Property Management Service take care of it for the first year. They charge 10% of the rent price. We had two services come look at the house. Neither of them impressed us. After their visits we were left with the feeling, "We can do this ourselves." We hope to have the house occupied by November. Any advice?
The garage has turned into Box Land. One side is piled high with heavy, labeled, sealed boxes. The other side has lopsided stacks of empty boxes, waiting for me to get busy. Today I'm tackling the Laundry. We usually have a steady basket of dirties waiting. I am the type who does a load here and there, never getting to the bottom of the basket. (Proof that we have too many clothes.) Today I decided it would be nice to have everything clean for the move. That way I can forget about laundry for a couple weeks and focus on unpacking the new house. Do you see why the house is a backsliding scenerio for me?
In other news I'm now five little pounds away from my pre-pregnancy weight. For me, the saying will be more like, "Nine months on, 11 months off." I'm wearing my old clothes, which is awesome. They don't fit quite like they used to, but I'm happy nonetheless. I am delighted to not be wearing the DD bomb bras anymore.
Melody is nine and a half months old. She scurries around the house, crawling army-style. She proudly cruises alongside the couch and coffee table. I see lots of bumps and bruises in the immediate future. Each day she is stronger and more coordinated. She grabs handfulls of cheerios (3) with vigor instead of apprehension. I think she tries to say "bear" when holding her stuffed animals. Is sounds like, "Baaa." I've been video-taping her more lately.
The garage has turned into Box Land. One side is piled high with heavy, labeled, sealed boxes. The other side has lopsided stacks of empty boxes, waiting for me to get busy. Today I'm tackling the Laundry. We usually have a steady basket of dirties waiting. I am the type who does a load here and there, never getting to the bottom of the basket. (Proof that we have too many clothes.) Today I decided it would be nice to have everything clean for the move. That way I can forget about laundry for a couple weeks and focus on unpacking the new house. Do you see why the house is a backsliding scenerio for me?
In other news I'm now five little pounds away from my pre-pregnancy weight. For me, the saying will be more like, "Nine months on, 11 months off." I'm wearing my old clothes, which is awesome. They don't fit quite like they used to, but I'm happy nonetheless. I am delighted to not be wearing the DD bomb bras anymore.
Melody is nine and a half months old. She scurries around the house, crawling army-style. She proudly cruises alongside the couch and coffee table. I see lots of bumps and bruises in the immediate future. Each day she is stronger and more coordinated. She grabs handfulls of cheerios (3) with vigor instead of apprehension. I think she tries to say "bear" when holding her stuffed animals. Is sounds like, "Baaa." I've been video-taping her more lately.
10/06/2005
thoughts on moving
We plan to move in 9 days. I am feeling overwhelmed. I'm at the point with packing where I've boxed up the easy stuff. Now I keep turning in circles, eyeing different objects, wondering if they should be boxed up yet. Linen closet? What about the people coming from out of town to help us move? They'll need towels. I've done about 3/4 of the kitchen.
Melody's room is untouched because I want to take pictures of it before dismantling everything. Her walls, furniture, and decor are the most intentional and finished of the whole house. Right now I have black and white film in my camera. I need to finish this roll before I'm able to take color photos of her bedroom. Such are the things on my mind.
I had planned to host playgroup at my house tomorrow. It felt nostalgic about this being the last opportunity to have Playgroup here. Turns out, there's just too much going on. I bailed and will skip the get-together. I'm desperately hoping my friends will make the 30+ minute drive to the now house. Perhaps the posibility of these friendships waning is the reason for my melancoly today.
I'm also a bit sad about leaving this house. We've been here for three years -- the longest place of residence in our 5 year marriage. Chad and I walked these sidewalks often during my pregnancy. Melody was born in this house. I always have trouble leaving things behind.
Melody's room is untouched because I want to take pictures of it before dismantling everything. Her walls, furniture, and decor are the most intentional and finished of the whole house. Right now I have black and white film in my camera. I need to finish this roll before I'm able to take color photos of her bedroom. Such are the things on my mind.
I had planned to host playgroup at my house tomorrow. It felt nostalgic about this being the last opportunity to have Playgroup here. Turns out, there's just too much going on. I bailed and will skip the get-together. I'm desperately hoping my friends will make the 30+ minute drive to the now house. Perhaps the posibility of these friendships waning is the reason for my melancoly today.
I'm also a bit sad about leaving this house. We've been here for three years -- the longest place of residence in our 5 year marriage. Chad and I walked these sidewalks often during my pregnancy. Melody was born in this house. I always have trouble leaving things behind.
10/03/2005
kitchen woes
We are moving in 12 short days and I'm feeling pressure to be organized. I've packed the spare bedroom (camping gear, books, computer stuff) and most of the kitchen. A fraction of our dishes, spices, canned food, and baking items is left. It feels good to have bare cabinets. Clean and simple. Usually I have to move multiple items to get to the flour or sugar.
Our new kitchen will be smaller than the current one. But it will have a pantry, which we don't have right now. So maybe it will even out? I would love to have completely bare countertops. I think that would look so nice. But I use the blender almost every day to make fruit smoothies for breakfast. The toaster oven is used once or twice a week. A utensil holder sits next to the stove, holding everyday spatulas, spoons, and such. Then there's the salt, pepper, jar of clothspins (used for keeping opened packages tightly closed), multi vitamin (that I won't take unless I SEE it everyday), coffee maker (used everyday), and two colorful fire king mugs (holding the silverware).
I use these things all the time. So how can I avoid keeping them on the countertop? I love pictures of Ikea kitchens; sparse with lots of flat shiny surfaces. Lately I've been reading quite a bit of the magazine, Real Simple. I like the photography in the publication; it puts a fire in me to have clean and simple rooms.
There is one thing on the kitchen counter that I love... that's my cobalt blue Kitchen Aid mixer. It's one of my favorite possessions. Chad surprised me with it for my birthday about a year ago. I like having it out in the open, because it reminds me that Chad loves me. Also, because it's so pretty.
Does anyone have any kitchen tips for me?
Our new kitchen will be smaller than the current one. But it will have a pantry, which we don't have right now. So maybe it will even out? I would love to have completely bare countertops. I think that would look so nice. But I use the blender almost every day to make fruit smoothies for breakfast. The toaster oven is used once or twice a week. A utensil holder sits next to the stove, holding everyday spatulas, spoons, and such. Then there's the salt, pepper, jar of clothspins (used for keeping opened packages tightly closed), multi vitamin (that I won't take unless I SEE it everyday), coffee maker (used everyday), and two colorful fire king mugs (holding the silverware).
I use these things all the time. So how can I avoid keeping them on the countertop? I love pictures of Ikea kitchens; sparse with lots of flat shiny surfaces. Lately I've been reading quite a bit of the magazine, Real Simple. I like the photography in the publication; it puts a fire in me to have clean and simple rooms.
There is one thing on the kitchen counter that I love... that's my cobalt blue Kitchen Aid mixer. It's one of my favorite possessions. Chad surprised me with it for my birthday about a year ago. I like having it out in the open, because it reminds me that Chad loves me. Also, because it's so pretty.
Does anyone have any kitchen tips for me?
9/27/2005
my brother, part 4
Back to my brother's story.
Christoper always excelled in school. He liked being in competition with the smart kids. He quickly outgrew the high school environment and decided to do his junior and senior year together, enabling him to graduate a year early. He impressed us all with his perseverance and hard work. He took two english classes, several hard science classes, and a speech class at a local university. He studied late into the night more than a couple times a week. By the time May arrived, he had earned the right to say goodbye to Clarksville High early. We were all very proud of him. At the graduation ceremony the principle had each student stand to be recognized for college scholarships received. My chest swelled with pride as the principle said, "Chris Kotter. John Brown University. Excellence in Engineering Scholarship." I felt like standing up and saying, "That's MY brother!"
He decided to attend John Brown University after considering many state schools. This decision made us all happy. Chad and I had awesome experiences at the small Christian school. I can't help but think that our positive stories impacted his decision to go there.
About a month ago, he moved into the dorm. He was giddy, a little self conscious, and all smiles. His roomate is a missionary kid from Brazil. So far, they get along. Once a week or so, I call Christopher to see if he needs anything. He's without a car, and Walmart is not in walking distance from the campus. He usually turns down my offer for Walmart runs, but he always receives invitations for meals out or a weekend afternoon at our house.
When I see him, I can't help but smile inside. He's so grown up. His chest, neck and arms are filling in. (He lifts weights with a buddy.) His voice seems more mature. He laughs like a man -- deeply and with light in his eyes. He is more alive than ever before. His major is Construction Management, which is the same thing Chad studied. They compare stories of profs, projects, and classes. By the time Chris graduates they'll have a lot more in common.
I guess this is the end of my series on my little bro. As I write Part 4, I think of many stories I've left out. In the future I'll revisit the topic and tell stories of him taking a rental car for a hush-hush 100 mph spin around town, band camp girlfriends and other typical little brother stuff.
Christoper always excelled in school. He liked being in competition with the smart kids. He quickly outgrew the high school environment and decided to do his junior and senior year together, enabling him to graduate a year early. He impressed us all with his perseverance and hard work. He took two english classes, several hard science classes, and a speech class at a local university. He studied late into the night more than a couple times a week. By the time May arrived, he had earned the right to say goodbye to Clarksville High early. We were all very proud of him. At the graduation ceremony the principle had each student stand to be recognized for college scholarships received. My chest swelled with pride as the principle said, "Chris Kotter. John Brown University. Excellence in Engineering Scholarship." I felt like standing up and saying, "That's MY brother!"
He decided to attend John Brown University after considering many state schools. This decision made us all happy. Chad and I had awesome experiences at the small Christian school. I can't help but think that our positive stories impacted his decision to go there.
About a month ago, he moved into the dorm. He was giddy, a little self conscious, and all smiles. His roomate is a missionary kid from Brazil. So far, they get along. Once a week or so, I call Christopher to see if he needs anything. He's without a car, and Walmart is not in walking distance from the campus. He usually turns down my offer for Walmart runs, but he always receives invitations for meals out or a weekend afternoon at our house.
When I see him, I can't help but smile inside. He's so grown up. His chest, neck and arms are filling in. (He lifts weights with a buddy.) His voice seems more mature. He laughs like a man -- deeply and with light in his eyes. He is more alive than ever before. His major is Construction Management, which is the same thing Chad studied. They compare stories of profs, projects, and classes. By the time Chris graduates they'll have a lot more in common.
I guess this is the end of my series on my little bro. As I write Part 4, I think of many stories I've left out. In the future I'll revisit the topic and tell stories of him taking a rental car for a hush-hush 100 mph spin around town, band camp girlfriends and other typical little brother stuff.
9/26/2005
clothes talk
I am tired of all my clothes. I keep buying the same stuff over and over again. I have this desire to dress funky and unique. Something between skater-chick, hippie, and prep. I know; those are opposites. That is one of my problems.
Another problem is that I like simplicity too much. I am drawn to the Favorite-Ts at the Gap. If they are on sale, I buy them every time. My closet has various colors of the long-sleeve and short-sleeve versions. Sometimes I layer them with the short-sleeved ones on top. That is about the extent of my "style."
I see girls wearing layered lacy tanks with sparkly shoes. I like that look, but I'd feel like an alien if I wore it. Which leads to another one of my problems. Confidence. I second guess myself when I try new things. One time in aerobics I tried to be cool and wore something out of the ordinary. I could barely do the steps right, because I was so self-consious with all the mirrors. After that I stuck to grey shorts and big white t-shirts. Borrrrring.
Maybe another one of my problems is that I live in Arkansas. This might be a cop-out, but really... we only have a few places to get stuff. Yeah, yeah, I could order from the internet, but that just isn't the same as REALLY shopping.
Today I ventured to the mall and made myself go into a store other than the Gap. I entered Express, determined to find something different. A nice clerk began talking to me. She was five months pregnanct. We exchanged baby pleasantries and then I began the search. I found several shirts with cute sleeves, a little sparkle and slinky material. Fun stuff. Each time I found an item to consider, there were only Smalls and X-Smalls available. What the hell?! Here I am, excited that my boobs are finally on their way down from a DD. I'm feeling good because MIGHT be able to fit into a Large instead of an XL. Good grief. Are there really THAT MANY tiny people out there? Obviously not, because all the big sizes are gone. Errr. (This is a different subject for a different post... sorry.)
I ended up buying a long-sleeve black v-neck. (50% off for $12.50. Not bad.) Along the neckline are understated sparklies and lace. I plan to wear a black tank underneath for added support and coverage. Soon, when I can fit my wide bootie into my date jeans, I'll have a fun, new outfit to show off. If only there were a store in the mall where we could buy Confidence to finish off the new look.
Another problem is that I like simplicity too much. I am drawn to the Favorite-Ts at the Gap. If they are on sale, I buy them every time. My closet has various colors of the long-sleeve and short-sleeve versions. Sometimes I layer them with the short-sleeved ones on top. That is about the extent of my "style."
I see girls wearing layered lacy tanks with sparkly shoes. I like that look, but I'd feel like an alien if I wore it. Which leads to another one of my problems. Confidence. I second guess myself when I try new things. One time in aerobics I tried to be cool and wore something out of the ordinary. I could barely do the steps right, because I was so self-consious with all the mirrors. After that I stuck to grey shorts and big white t-shirts. Borrrrring.
Maybe another one of my problems is that I live in Arkansas. This might be a cop-out, but really... we only have a few places to get stuff. Yeah, yeah, I could order from the internet, but that just isn't the same as REALLY shopping.
Today I ventured to the mall and made myself go into a store other than the Gap. I entered Express, determined to find something different. A nice clerk began talking to me. She was five months pregnanct. We exchanged baby pleasantries and then I began the search. I found several shirts with cute sleeves, a little sparkle and slinky material. Fun stuff. Each time I found an item to consider, there were only Smalls and X-Smalls available. What the hell?! Here I am, excited that my boobs are finally on their way down from a DD. I'm feeling good because MIGHT be able to fit into a Large instead of an XL. Good grief. Are there really THAT MANY tiny people out there? Obviously not, because all the big sizes are gone. Errr. (This is a different subject for a different post... sorry.)
I ended up buying a long-sleeve black v-neck. (50% off for $12.50. Not bad.) Along the neckline are understated sparklies and lace. I plan to wear a black tank underneath for added support and coverage. Soon, when I can fit my wide bootie into my date jeans, I'll have a fun, new outfit to show off. If only there were a store in the mall where we could buy Confidence to finish off the new look.
9/24/2005
garage sale tidbits
Today I participated in a garage sale with two friends. All three of us are moving within the next three weeks. We each have babies. We wanted to get rid of junk, make some cash, and hang out. I dragged myself from bed at 6am and managed to stumble out the door with a blurry-eyed baby at 6:35. I got a dozen Krispy Kremes on the way (as well as coffee for myself) and arrived just at 7:00. Buyers steadily came and went until 1:00. During these six hours we juggled babies, bartered dollars, and told stories about our rejected possesions. We laughed at people (nicely) and made sure the kids didn't get too close to the street.
By noon, I was zonked. Melody had taken two naps in a $1 leopard print umbrella stroller. I sold two video game chairs, Chad's metal weights, an array of kitchen glassware, full size duvet cover with shams, and two little girl play strollers. I also sold an anitque high chair that I purchased a few weeks ago at a flea market. I snatched it up with high hopes of having a CUTE high chair instead of the monster ones on the market these days. It ended up being ricketty with slick chipped paint and no straps. I'm still looking for the right solution.
Items I was not sucessful at getting rid of where my husband's weight bench and one of those monster high chairs I mentioned already. It came from a neighbor several months ago. It had a cracked vinyl seat. By the end of the sale I had a $1 sticker on it. One lady did consider it for awhile. She said her brother needed a high chair for his restaurant. The girls and I laughed like banchees after she left. I could picture it in a dingy corner of some greasy waffle joint. Just the kind of public chair I'd love to use for my baby!
All in all, I made $65. (Of course if you subtract money from the donuts, coffee, lunch, poster board, huge black marker, and gas, I probably only made about $45. It was worth it for the social time.) Now it's early afternoon. Melody is sleeping and I'm heading to Nap Land myself. Chad is working on the house until dark, so I have the rest of the afternoon to rest, pack a little, clean up things, and perhaps make some banana bread.
By noon, I was zonked. Melody had taken two naps in a $1 leopard print umbrella stroller. I sold two video game chairs, Chad's metal weights, an array of kitchen glassware, full size duvet cover with shams, and two little girl play strollers. I also sold an anitque high chair that I purchased a few weeks ago at a flea market. I snatched it up with high hopes of having a CUTE high chair instead of the monster ones on the market these days. It ended up being ricketty with slick chipped paint and no straps. I'm still looking for the right solution.
Items I was not sucessful at getting rid of where my husband's weight bench and one of those monster high chairs I mentioned already. It came from a neighbor several months ago. It had a cracked vinyl seat. By the end of the sale I had a $1 sticker on it. One lady did consider it for awhile. She said her brother needed a high chair for his restaurant. The girls and I laughed like banchees after she left. I could picture it in a dingy corner of some greasy waffle joint. Just the kind of public chair I'd love to use for my baby!
All in all, I made $65. (Of course if you subtract money from the donuts, coffee, lunch, poster board, huge black marker, and gas, I probably only made about $45. It was worth it for the social time.) Now it's early afternoon. Melody is sleeping and I'm heading to Nap Land myself. Chad is working on the house until dark, so I have the rest of the afternoon to rest, pack a little, clean up things, and perhaps make some banana bread.
9/23/2005
update -- the house & melody
We have a lot going on right now. For one, we're building a house. That in itself is a lot. The house will be ready for interior paint in about a week. We've been busy picking colors, facets, lights, countertops, appliances, tubs, etc, etc, etc. The list is long! Now that I can see the house taking shape, I'm excited. Chad has been excited since before the footings were poured. It was hard for me to invision things until recently. Now I'm excited too.
Chad works for a residential construction company, so he knows about this stuff already. His job involves buying materials and scheduling. Thus, he's in his element when it comes to building our own house. He has scheduled things out to the day; of course there have been bumps and mishaps, but for the most part it has been a successful project. They say the devil is in the details, so we'll see how things pan out in the end. Chad plans on doing the trim himself as well as the cedar siding on the exterior of the house. I fear these two projects will take months. The other day I asked, "Have you estimated how much time your projects are going to take?" His facial expression showed me the answer. No. I try not to nag.
I took Melody to the doctor a couple days ago. She's been acting strange this week. Nights have been rough for 5 days in a row. She was sleeping 10 hour stretches with no problem until this week. It has been hard to be up with her again; it reminds me of the newborn days. I remember those first weeks with awe. How did I do it? I remember taking a 10 minute walk and then returning to the house and sleeping for two solid hours...
But back to the doctor visit... her ears, throat, and breathing checked out fine. At the end of the visit the doctor weighed her. She is 15 pounds / 9 ounces. She has gained only one pound in the past two months. (!) Her rank has slipped to the 5th percentile (from the 15th).
Of course I'm worried. I've talked to many people -- other moms, my mom, Chad, friends. They say nice things to ease my mind.
"You feed her often. She's fine."
"She's just petite. It's okay for girls to be little."
"Her motor skills and cognitive development are on track."
"Don't worry about it."
I've been trying to be brave; to not think about it; not let it get to me. But I'm distracted and tired and my mind keeps returning to the issue of her size. I love the way she looks. She has soft, round legs and a little ball tummy. When she's naked I squeal at the sight of her tiny proportions. I'm not alarmed by her appearance. I only worry after we've visited the doctor.
I make ongoing mental lists of high calorie baby food she can eat -- avocado, egg yolk, yogurt, flaxseed oil, banana. She eats all these foods without resisting. However, she only eats a tiny bit of each... maybe a 10th of an avocado or one ounce of yogurt at a time.
We've stopped breastfeeding. For awhile I nursed her at night and in the mornings. Then last week she began refusing. She still cuddles up to me as we lay side by side, in our nursing position. She holds onto my shirt, drawing it close to her face. With her other hand she sucks her fingers. This is the way she falls asleep now. I'm thankful we can still be so close even though she won't nurse. I have mixed feeling on her weaning. Part of me is sad because I planned to nurse until December. I am sad she won't get the nutrition of breastmilk anymore. Another part of me is relieved and happy. I'm feel free! My body belongs to ME again.
Chad works for a residential construction company, so he knows about this stuff already. His job involves buying materials and scheduling. Thus, he's in his element when it comes to building our own house. He has scheduled things out to the day; of course there have been bumps and mishaps, but for the most part it has been a successful project. They say the devil is in the details, so we'll see how things pan out in the end. Chad plans on doing the trim himself as well as the cedar siding on the exterior of the house. I fear these two projects will take months. The other day I asked, "Have you estimated how much time your projects are going to take?" His facial expression showed me the answer. No. I try not to nag.
I took Melody to the doctor a couple days ago. She's been acting strange this week. Nights have been rough for 5 days in a row. She was sleeping 10 hour stretches with no problem until this week. It has been hard to be up with her again; it reminds me of the newborn days. I remember those first weeks with awe. How did I do it? I remember taking a 10 minute walk and then returning to the house and sleeping for two solid hours...
But back to the doctor visit... her ears, throat, and breathing checked out fine. At the end of the visit the doctor weighed her. She is 15 pounds / 9 ounces. She has gained only one pound in the past two months. (!) Her rank has slipped to the 5th percentile (from the 15th).
Of course I'm worried. I've talked to many people -- other moms, my mom, Chad, friends. They say nice things to ease my mind.
"You feed her often. She's fine."
"She's just petite. It's okay for girls to be little."
"Her motor skills and cognitive development are on track."
"Don't worry about it."
I've been trying to be brave; to not think about it; not let it get to me. But I'm distracted and tired and my mind keeps returning to the issue of her size. I love the way she looks. She has soft, round legs and a little ball tummy. When she's naked I squeal at the sight of her tiny proportions. I'm not alarmed by her appearance. I only worry after we've visited the doctor.
I make ongoing mental lists of high calorie baby food she can eat -- avocado, egg yolk, yogurt, flaxseed oil, banana. She eats all these foods without resisting. However, she only eats a tiny bit of each... maybe a 10th of an avocado or one ounce of yogurt at a time.
We've stopped breastfeeding. For awhile I nursed her at night and in the mornings. Then last week she began refusing. She still cuddles up to me as we lay side by side, in our nursing position. She holds onto my shirt, drawing it close to her face. With her other hand she sucks her fingers. This is the way she falls asleep now. I'm thankful we can still be so close even though she won't nurse. I have mixed feeling on her weaning. Part of me is sad because I planned to nurse until December. I am sad she won't get the nutrition of breastmilk anymore. Another part of me is relieved and happy. I'm feel free! My body belongs to ME again.
9/22/2005
my brother, part 3
Back to the story of my little bro...
When my brother was three months old we moved from Texas to California. On the seven day drive he took up most of the car. In the backseat we had a baby car bed which occupied two-thirds of the bench seat. In the front seat a large rear facing carseat sat inbetween my parents. These items symbolized his presence in our family; he was the focus. I remember staring at him as he slept next to me in the back seat. He wore only his diaper as we drove through the desert on Hwy 10. He slept on his stomach; I traced lightly on his soft back, hoping he enjoyed my touch.
We lived in California for 4 years. They were heart-wrenching years of loneliness, isolation, adolescence, and bad clothes. I took comfort in my toddler companion who didn't see lack of style, bad hair, or dorky conversation. During the earthquake of 1989, I was the one who grabbed him as we fled to the hallway of the shaking house.
Christopher had a special way with old people. When we visited my grandpa in the nursing home I crumbled into my dad's arms at the sights and sounds of the ailing, bed-ridden elderly. My brother was three years old and he didn't see these things. He was oblivious to the smells and sadness. He walked the halls with my grandpa; small new hand wrapped in strong old wrinkled fingers. He hummed along in his high-little-boy-voice as my grandpa sang old hymns with his rummbling crackly deep voice. It was an endearing sight.
When Christopher was 4 and I was 15, we moved to Arkansas. A year later he started kindergarden and I made sure my mom bought him cute clothes so he'd fit in. We had more money at this point, so getting him nice things was easier. He named our black stray cat, Apple. He loved to ride in the front seat of the mini-van. Usually I made him sit in the backseat though. He was great at Monopoly at a young age. He had a coin collection. He loved doing outside projects with my dad and saving his money.
When he was eight years old I left for college. While moving into my female-only dorm, men had to yell "Man on the hall" when they entered. We all laughed when his high squeaky voice proclaimed, "Man on the hall!" On my visits home from college I would take Christopher to school in the mornings. On the way, we'd get donuts and eat them quickly as to finish before arriving at the school.
When he was ten I brought lots of friends home from college. We'd spend weekends eating real food, sleeping on floors all over the house, and playing video games, legos, and outside games. He joined in with the big kids and had a blast. My friend Matt told him about cool bands and Christopher immediately spent his money on their CDs.
He was twelve when I graduated from college. Fourteen when I got married. And 18 when Melody came along. Shortly after her birth he called our dear Uncle Jerry and said, "Tell me how to be a good uncle." Jerry's response, "Take her to 7-11 and buy her candy." So far Christopher has been an awesome uncle.
When my brother was three months old we moved from Texas to California. On the seven day drive he took up most of the car. In the backseat we had a baby car bed which occupied two-thirds of the bench seat. In the front seat a large rear facing carseat sat inbetween my parents. These items symbolized his presence in our family; he was the focus. I remember staring at him as he slept next to me in the back seat. He wore only his diaper as we drove through the desert on Hwy 10. He slept on his stomach; I traced lightly on his soft back, hoping he enjoyed my touch.
We lived in California for 4 years. They were heart-wrenching years of loneliness, isolation, adolescence, and bad clothes. I took comfort in my toddler companion who didn't see lack of style, bad hair, or dorky conversation. During the earthquake of 1989, I was the one who grabbed him as we fled to the hallway of the shaking house.
Christopher had a special way with old people. When we visited my grandpa in the nursing home I crumbled into my dad's arms at the sights and sounds of the ailing, bed-ridden elderly. My brother was three years old and he didn't see these things. He was oblivious to the smells and sadness. He walked the halls with my grandpa; small new hand wrapped in strong old wrinkled fingers. He hummed along in his high-little-boy-voice as my grandpa sang old hymns with his rummbling crackly deep voice. It was an endearing sight.
When Christopher was 4 and I was 15, we moved to Arkansas. A year later he started kindergarden and I made sure my mom bought him cute clothes so he'd fit in. We had more money at this point, so getting him nice things was easier. He named our black stray cat, Apple. He loved to ride in the front seat of the mini-van. Usually I made him sit in the backseat though. He was great at Monopoly at a young age. He had a coin collection. He loved doing outside projects with my dad and saving his money.
When he was eight years old I left for college. While moving into my female-only dorm, men had to yell "Man on the hall" when they entered. We all laughed when his high squeaky voice proclaimed, "Man on the hall!" On my visits home from college I would take Christopher to school in the mornings. On the way, we'd get donuts and eat them quickly as to finish before arriving at the school.
When he was ten I brought lots of friends home from college. We'd spend weekends eating real food, sleeping on floors all over the house, and playing video games, legos, and outside games. He joined in with the big kids and had a blast. My friend Matt told him about cool bands and Christopher immediately spent his money on their CDs.
He was twelve when I graduated from college. Fourteen when I got married. And 18 when Melody came along. Shortly after her birth he called our dear Uncle Jerry and said, "Tell me how to be a good uncle." Jerry's response, "Take her to 7-11 and buy her candy." So far Christopher has been an awesome uncle.
9/12/2005
the juggling game
I am not finished posting about my brother, but I am going to write about other stuff today. One of the reasons I've been absent is because I felt constrained to post about him again, and the inspiration wasn't there.
Today has been strange. I woke up early at 6:00. Melody was still asleep and I enjoyed the darkness of the quiet morning. I took care of paperwork while my brain was fresh. I think best in the morning. My motor skills are a different story. As I attempted to make a smoothie, frozen peaches went flying, clattering loudy on the tile floor.
Melody woke around 7:00. We nursed and then walked for a hour. She slouched to one side of her stroller with a duh face as the cracks in the sidewalk rhymically passed. I felt strong and sturdy and walked briskly. The air was cool, evidence that summer is finally saying goodbye.
The rest of the day has been a struggle. I've been on a mission to take care of things. Send my bro-in-law and sis-in law letters with snapshots of Melody. They are both in college and need contact from the outside world. Make bean soup. I've had a bag of dry red beans for over a year. I found them on Saturday as I began packing the kitchen for our upcoming move. I vowed to cook them before we move; today is the day. They are simmering on the stove with brown rice, tomatoes, green onions, corn, and ranch seasoning. I hope it's good, because there's a lot of it.
The reason these things have been a struggle is because I ignore Melody while I work. She watches Einstein, plays on her blanket, claps her hands, and watches me walk back and forth through the living room over and over again. After awhile she gets bored and wants my attention. Most days I gladly quit my chore to be with her. Here is my question: Is it possible to be a good mom AND a good homemaker? I feel like I have to choose. And inbetween these two, I long to find a tiny bit of time for just ME. To read, write, email, whatever.
I'm not complaining... I love being at home. I'm just wondering how to juggle it all. How do you do it?
Today has been strange. I woke up early at 6:00. Melody was still asleep and I enjoyed the darkness of the quiet morning. I took care of paperwork while my brain was fresh. I think best in the morning. My motor skills are a different story. As I attempted to make a smoothie, frozen peaches went flying, clattering loudy on the tile floor.
Melody woke around 7:00. We nursed and then walked for a hour. She slouched to one side of her stroller with a duh face as the cracks in the sidewalk rhymically passed. I felt strong and sturdy and walked briskly. The air was cool, evidence that summer is finally saying goodbye.
The rest of the day has been a struggle. I've been on a mission to take care of things. Send my bro-in-law and sis-in law letters with snapshots of Melody. They are both in college and need contact from the outside world. Make bean soup. I've had a bag of dry red beans for over a year. I found them on Saturday as I began packing the kitchen for our upcoming move. I vowed to cook them before we move; today is the day. They are simmering on the stove with brown rice, tomatoes, green onions, corn, and ranch seasoning. I hope it's good, because there's a lot of it.
The reason these things have been a struggle is because I ignore Melody while I work. She watches Einstein, plays on her blanket, claps her hands, and watches me walk back and forth through the living room over and over again. After awhile she gets bored and wants my attention. Most days I gladly quit my chore to be with her. Here is my question: Is it possible to be a good mom AND a good homemaker? I feel like I have to choose. And inbetween these two, I long to find a tiny bit of time for just ME. To read, write, email, whatever.
I'm not complaining... I love being at home. I'm just wondering how to juggle it all. How do you do it?
8/21/2005
my brother, part 2
The days after my brother's birth were awesome. All three of us - my mom, dad, and myself - were overjoyed. We smiled nonstop and gave him nonstop attention. My dad spent the first hours of Christopher's life holding him in a rocking chair as my mom slept in the recovery room. Hospital policy said I couldn't hold the baby for the first 24 hours, because I was under the age of 14. In fact, I had to stay at least a few feet AWAY from Christopher during this period. My dad's head hung low in front of his chest as he stared at the new bundle. I sat in a folding chair, about 5 feet away, bored to death, willing the hours to pass so I could hold him myself.
The first time I held Christopher was wonderful. We were in a tiny shared hospital room with multiple chairs and a large bed on wheels. My mom was sore and out-of-it. My dad watched intently as I carefully cradled Christopher. I was a lanky preadolescent; uncoordination is a dominant trait in our family. Slowly, I stood up to move to the other side of the room. My dad leaned in, hands ready, nervous as hell. My foot gingerly stepped forward and barely brushed against the bedside. My dad's arms flew out to catch the falling baby, even though nothing had happened. I sighed and said something like, "I'm FINE, dad. I'm fine."
Christopher was a fantastic baby. My mom nursed him every hour and a half to make sure he was "thriving." He began sleeping ten hour stretches at an early age. He rarely cried and was prone to staring contentedly into space for long spells. I enjoyed being a big sister to the uttermost. My first day back at school was fun. The principle announced that I had a new brother on the intercom. Hugh Simpson was my heart throb that year (and the year before -- it was a long crush) and we sat next to each other. Thanks to Christopher, we had our first real conversation:
Hugh: So. You have a baby brother?
Me: Yeah.
Hugh: What's his name?
Me: Christopher Daniel
Hugh: Cool.
Me: Yeah.
(Maybe that explains why I never had boyfriends?) Those of you who read Part 1 of Christopher's story know that his middle name is NOT Daniel; it is Milton. I was embarrassed to tell Hugh, so I made up a different name! It was a spur of the moment decision in the midst of sweaty palms and a wildly beating heart. Maybe if I'd used the real name, it's uniqueness would have sparked a longer conversation. Probably not.
The first time I held Christopher was wonderful. We were in a tiny shared hospital room with multiple chairs and a large bed on wheels. My mom was sore and out-of-it. My dad watched intently as I carefully cradled Christopher. I was a lanky preadolescent; uncoordination is a dominant trait in our family. Slowly, I stood up to move to the other side of the room. My dad leaned in, hands ready, nervous as hell. My foot gingerly stepped forward and barely brushed against the bedside. My dad's arms flew out to catch the falling baby, even though nothing had happened. I sighed and said something like, "I'm FINE, dad. I'm fine."
Christopher was a fantastic baby. My mom nursed him every hour and a half to make sure he was "thriving." He began sleeping ten hour stretches at an early age. He rarely cried and was prone to staring contentedly into space for long spells. I enjoyed being a big sister to the uttermost. My first day back at school was fun. The principle announced that I had a new brother on the intercom. Hugh Simpson was my heart throb that year (and the year before -- it was a long crush) and we sat next to each other. Thanks to Christopher, we had our first real conversation:
Hugh: So. You have a baby brother?
Me: Yeah.
Hugh: What's his name?
Me: Christopher Daniel
Hugh: Cool.
Me: Yeah.
(Maybe that explains why I never had boyfriends?) Those of you who read Part 1 of Christopher's story know that his middle name is NOT Daniel; it is Milton. I was embarrassed to tell Hugh, so I made up a different name! It was a spur of the moment decision in the midst of sweaty palms and a wildly beating heart. Maybe if I'd used the real name, it's uniqueness would have sparked a longer conversation. Probably not.
8/19/2005
my brother, part 1
I've decided to post about my brother. He is ten and a half years younger than me and is my only sibling. He means the world to me, so I thought I'd write about him for awhile.
I was an only child as a young girl and I hated it. Most of the families we were knew had at least 3 children. I was the only, only-child I knew. Each day I'd beg my mom to call a friend to play with me. She'd say, "But we called them yesterday. We can't call two days in a row." The extrovert in me suffered.
When I was five years old my mom got pregnant. She lost the baby girl at 37 weeks. Each March our family still feels the sadness of her absence. We never found out the cause of death. I do not remember anything about that pregnancy or loss. My mom says I came into the hospital room and crawled onto the bed with her. I was crying and said, "I want the baby." She replied, "We'll get you another baby." I shook my head, "No. I want THAT baby." The one thing I recall was being in a dark hospital hallway with my caring Uncle Jerry. He gave me a medium sized stuffed bunny that had a music box inside. I wonder if he bought it for the baby and gave it to me instead?
After the stillborn, my parents didn't know if they'd be able to get pregnant again. Five years passed. My mom suffered with severe chronic fatique during that time; many of her days were spent in bed. I longed for a brother or sister with all my heart.
One day she was sick in bed and I was moping around the house, bored. My dad was in the bedroom with her, and they called me to the room. I sat at the foot of the bed and waited to hear what they wanted to say. My dad said, "You know your mom is sick a lot of the time. Usually we don't know what the cause of her illness. But today we do: She is pregnant!" I gulped in disbelief. A smile spread across my shocked face. An involuntary laugh bubbled from my mouth. As I giggled with delight, tears spilled down my face. It was the first time I cried for happiness.
The pregnancy was long. At the beginning there was bleeding and fear. One of the first appointments was scary. The doctor thought my mom was about 12 weeks along. A nurse listened for a heartbeat and heard nothing. My parents nervously waited, knowing the odds were against them with my mom's history and weak health. The doctor came in to attempt to hear the heartbeat. Nothing. He said, "Let's do an ultrasound and see what happened." My mom and dad began to cry, assuming the baby was gone.
The tech put the ultrasound wand to her belly. Their eyes turned to the screen expecting to see a still figure. Instead, they were greeted with a jumping, moving, healthy baby. They exclaimed with joy and shock. The baby was only 8 weeks along, not 12, which explained the undetectable heartbeat.
I remember the rest of the pregnancy as a long spell of bedrest, nausea and never-ending hunger for my mom. The kitchen was continually dirty; one morning the smell of moldy oatmeal sent my dad into a angry frenzy when he couldn't take it anymore. One day in the fifth month I remember going somewhere with my mom. As I clicked my seatbelt in our massive green Mercury, I looked over at her and smiled. I was excited to be out of the house with her. Until then, she had been too sick to leave the house. In the third trimester I remember her reclining in my dad's big blue chair. He treated her like a queen during the pregnancy, taking care to keep the baby safe. We'd take turns sitting next to the chair on our knees with our ear against her belly, trying to hear the heartbeat. I loved seeing her stomach jump methodically when the baby had the hiccups.
February 24th arrived. I got up to go to school and noticed my dad was in the living room. Typically he would've left the house for work already. I walked to the end of the hallway with a question on my face. He said, "We think today might be the day." I shrugged and turned back toward my room thinking, "Yeah right. She's going to be pregnant forever." I really felt that way. A few hours later I was sitting on the gym floor in PE, waiting for my turn in a game. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a familiar person. I turned and looked up to find my best friend's mom. Her plump face was shining with joy as she said robustly, "It's time!!"
The drive to the hospital was surreal. There was road construction on the way and I wanted the car to go faster. My heart raced and my hands were sweaty as we neared the hospital. In the waiting room I saw familiar faces. Church people. Aunts and uncles. Everyone was jittery with excitement. My mom had a c-section because she'd already had two of them. Behind the doors to the operating room, my dad was dressed in scrubs, head to toe. He actually WATCHED the doctor do the surgery. Instead of being terrified to see his wife cut open, he was fascinated. The doctor even showed my mom's organs to my dad!!!! He saw her stomach, liver, etc. He still boasts that he know's her "inside and out." Ew. I hate that story.
We did not know if the baby was a boy or a girl. My mom was given general anesthetic because her epidural didn't take. The only thing she recalls from the surgery was my dad YELLING, "It's a boy, Alice! It's a boy!" For some reason they had assumed it would be a girl. The surprise boy came out healthy. His name: Christopher Milton.
I was the first one taken to see my mom and the baby. I was ushered into a tiny room where I stood beside a bed on wheels. It frightened me to see my mom half asleep, trying to wake up from the anesthetic. Her cheeks shook as she attempted to smile at me. She was trying to ease my fears, I think. At the other end of the room, my dad held up Chistopher, like Simba in the Lion King. His tiny body was wrinkled and he resembled a frog in shape and color. I felt shocked with awe. I finally had a sibling. My parents could now say phrases like, "the kids" and "both of them."
I was an only child as a young girl and I hated it. Most of the families we were knew had at least 3 children. I was the only, only-child I knew. Each day I'd beg my mom to call a friend to play with me. She'd say, "But we called them yesterday. We can't call two days in a row." The extrovert in me suffered.
When I was five years old my mom got pregnant. She lost the baby girl at 37 weeks. Each March our family still feels the sadness of her absence. We never found out the cause of death. I do not remember anything about that pregnancy or loss. My mom says I came into the hospital room and crawled onto the bed with her. I was crying and said, "I want the baby." She replied, "We'll get you another baby." I shook my head, "No. I want THAT baby." The one thing I recall was being in a dark hospital hallway with my caring Uncle Jerry. He gave me a medium sized stuffed bunny that had a music box inside. I wonder if he bought it for the baby and gave it to me instead?
After the stillborn, my parents didn't know if they'd be able to get pregnant again. Five years passed. My mom suffered with severe chronic fatique during that time; many of her days were spent in bed. I longed for a brother or sister with all my heart.
One day she was sick in bed and I was moping around the house, bored. My dad was in the bedroom with her, and they called me to the room. I sat at the foot of the bed and waited to hear what they wanted to say. My dad said, "You know your mom is sick a lot of the time. Usually we don't know what the cause of her illness. But today we do: She is pregnant!" I gulped in disbelief. A smile spread across my shocked face. An involuntary laugh bubbled from my mouth. As I giggled with delight, tears spilled down my face. It was the first time I cried for happiness.
The pregnancy was long. At the beginning there was bleeding and fear. One of the first appointments was scary. The doctor thought my mom was about 12 weeks along. A nurse listened for a heartbeat and heard nothing. My parents nervously waited, knowing the odds were against them with my mom's history and weak health. The doctor came in to attempt to hear the heartbeat. Nothing. He said, "Let's do an ultrasound and see what happened." My mom and dad began to cry, assuming the baby was gone.
The tech put the ultrasound wand to her belly. Their eyes turned to the screen expecting to see a still figure. Instead, they were greeted with a jumping, moving, healthy baby. They exclaimed with joy and shock. The baby was only 8 weeks along, not 12, which explained the undetectable heartbeat.
I remember the rest of the pregnancy as a long spell of bedrest, nausea and never-ending hunger for my mom. The kitchen was continually dirty; one morning the smell of moldy oatmeal sent my dad into a angry frenzy when he couldn't take it anymore. One day in the fifth month I remember going somewhere with my mom. As I clicked my seatbelt in our massive green Mercury, I looked over at her and smiled. I was excited to be out of the house with her. Until then, she had been too sick to leave the house. In the third trimester I remember her reclining in my dad's big blue chair. He treated her like a queen during the pregnancy, taking care to keep the baby safe. We'd take turns sitting next to the chair on our knees with our ear against her belly, trying to hear the heartbeat. I loved seeing her stomach jump methodically when the baby had the hiccups.
February 24th arrived. I got up to go to school and noticed my dad was in the living room. Typically he would've left the house for work already. I walked to the end of the hallway with a question on my face. He said, "We think today might be the day." I shrugged and turned back toward my room thinking, "Yeah right. She's going to be pregnant forever." I really felt that way. A few hours later I was sitting on the gym floor in PE, waiting for my turn in a game. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a familiar person. I turned and looked up to find my best friend's mom. Her plump face was shining with joy as she said robustly, "It's time!!"
The drive to the hospital was surreal. There was road construction on the way and I wanted the car to go faster. My heart raced and my hands were sweaty as we neared the hospital. In the waiting room I saw familiar faces. Church people. Aunts and uncles. Everyone was jittery with excitement. My mom had a c-section because she'd already had two of them. Behind the doors to the operating room, my dad was dressed in scrubs, head to toe. He actually WATCHED the doctor do the surgery. Instead of being terrified to see his wife cut open, he was fascinated. The doctor even showed my mom's organs to my dad!!!! He saw her stomach, liver, etc. He still boasts that he know's her "inside and out." Ew. I hate that story.
We did not know if the baby was a boy or a girl. My mom was given general anesthetic because her epidural didn't take. The only thing she recalls from the surgery was my dad YELLING, "It's a boy, Alice! It's a boy!" For some reason they had assumed it would be a girl. The surprise boy came out healthy. His name: Christopher Milton.
I was the first one taken to see my mom and the baby. I was ushered into a tiny room where I stood beside a bed on wheels. It frightened me to see my mom half asleep, trying to wake up from the anesthetic. Her cheeks shook as she attempted to smile at me. She was trying to ease my fears, I think. At the other end of the room, my dad held up Chistopher, like Simba in the Lion King. His tiny body was wrinkled and he resembled a frog in shape and color. I felt shocked with awe. I finally had a sibling. My parents could now say phrases like, "the kids" and "both of them."
8/18/2005
frustration turned to peace
We've had a rough week. Melody has been whiny, needy, and not herself. She tries to be happy, but cannot. I can see her pleasant nature being snuffed out by what I assume is teething symptoms. We've had long nights of crying, running nose and wakefulness. It is so sad to see her unable to get good breaths due to a stopped up nose. If only she's breath through her mouth... The problem is, her fingers are usually inside her mouth while she sleeps.
This morning I am dazed and tired. I am finally drinking my coffee. It sat on the kitchen counter for over a hour, ready with soy milk and sugar in the raw. Now it is room temperature. This would usually bug me, but since it's 79ยบ in our house, cooler coffee is okay.
I could not do anything right with Melody this morning. We finally did her two favorite things: an outdoor walk; then a bath. A few times around the block at 8:30am, and I'm already hot and sticky. I'm ready for fall. She calmed down on the walk and then enjoyed the bathtub, until she tried pulling up to a standing position on the side of the tub. Slippery, hard surfaces plus naked, wet baby are not a good combination. She got frustrated when I pulled her away from the edge. We had a full-on meltdown when I finally took her out of the tub.
All of this wouldn't phase me if it weren't for two things: I'm tired and I have a freelance project due soon. I finally got Melody down for a morning nap. I am hoping she's worn out enough to sleep a few hours. (Please. Please. Please.)
Despite my whining, I still think motherhood isn't as hard as I thought it would be. The crying, snot, slobber, poop, night-time care, pick-up-the-toy-a-million-times game, baby gear in every corner of the house, extra laundry, babyfood sneezes.... I used to worry I'd hate all these things. I'd see moms in restuarants unable to eat their food because of the baby, and I'd involuntarily shiver, wondering how I'd cope when it was my turn. The thing that makes all these things okay is the amount of LOVE I have for Melody. Taking care of her is a pleasure, even when it is in the middle of the night. I get frustrated often, but when I stop and really think about it all, I come to the same conclusion every time. It is a delight to take care of her. On our walk this morning I found myself breathing prayers of thanksgiving for such a gift. I am overwhelmed by the blessing and goodness that has come with our strong Melody.
I did not expect this post to end this way... when I started it I was super frustrated and ready to complain, complain, complain. I feel better now. I have a friend who once said, "Writing is like throwing up. I always feel better afterward." This quote applies to me this morning. (Although I'd choose writing over throwing up any day of the year.)
This morning I am dazed and tired. I am finally drinking my coffee. It sat on the kitchen counter for over a hour, ready with soy milk and sugar in the raw. Now it is room temperature. This would usually bug me, but since it's 79ยบ in our house, cooler coffee is okay.
I could not do anything right with Melody this morning. We finally did her two favorite things: an outdoor walk; then a bath. A few times around the block at 8:30am, and I'm already hot and sticky. I'm ready for fall. She calmed down on the walk and then enjoyed the bathtub, until she tried pulling up to a standing position on the side of the tub. Slippery, hard surfaces plus naked, wet baby are not a good combination. She got frustrated when I pulled her away from the edge. We had a full-on meltdown when I finally took her out of the tub.
All of this wouldn't phase me if it weren't for two things: I'm tired and I have a freelance project due soon. I finally got Melody down for a morning nap. I am hoping she's worn out enough to sleep a few hours. (Please. Please. Please.)
Despite my whining, I still think motherhood isn't as hard as I thought it would be. The crying, snot, slobber, poop, night-time care, pick-up-the-toy-a-million-times game, baby gear in every corner of the house, extra laundry, babyfood sneezes.... I used to worry I'd hate all these things. I'd see moms in restuarants unable to eat their food because of the baby, and I'd involuntarily shiver, wondering how I'd cope when it was my turn. The thing that makes all these things okay is the amount of LOVE I have for Melody. Taking care of her is a pleasure, even when it is in the middle of the night. I get frustrated often, but when I stop and really think about it all, I come to the same conclusion every time. It is a delight to take care of her. On our walk this morning I found myself breathing prayers of thanksgiving for such a gift. I am overwhelmed by the blessing and goodness that has come with our strong Melody.
I did not expect this post to end this way... when I started it I was super frustrated and ready to complain, complain, complain. I feel better now. I have a friend who once said, "Writing is like throwing up. I always feel better afterward." This quote applies to me this morning. (Although I'd choose writing over throwing up any day of the year.)
8/17/2005
font hell
I am in font hell. For weeks I've been trying to set up a computer work station at home. (That sounds really dumb.) I have a four year old G4 Powerbook. I love it. I also love designing. What I do not love is computer stuff. I do well with my limited software programs. I learn them well enough to work efficiently. I love key commands and shortcuts. I do not thrive on problem solving.
My latest problems surround the confusing world of fonts. Postscript. Open Type. True Type. Dfont. Unicode. &^#(@! What does these gibberish mean?! Why can't it be simplier? One of the things that is holding me back is I have to use the same exact fonts my vendors use. Even though there are thousands of versions of Caslon out there, I have to use the one and only one they use.
I dream of a day when I have a setup I fully understand. The projects I'm doing are simple, enjoyable, and routine IF I don't run into font hassles, printer problems, operating system glitches, internet woes and unexplainable mishaps. I guess these bumps in the road are what I'm really getting paid for -- I keep telling myself this is a GOOD thing. After all, the only way for me to learn hard stuff is to be forced into it. I will never in a million years say to myself, "Ohh. A computer problem. This is fascinating! Let me see... what is going on here?"
My latest problems surround the confusing world of fonts. Postscript. Open Type. True Type. Dfont. Unicode. &^#(@! What does these gibberish mean?! Why can't it be simplier? One of the things that is holding me back is I have to use the same exact fonts my vendors use. Even though there are thousands of versions of Caslon out there, I have to use the one and only one they use.
I dream of a day when I have a setup I fully understand. The projects I'm doing are simple, enjoyable, and routine IF I don't run into font hassles, printer problems, operating system glitches, internet woes and unexplainable mishaps. I guess these bumps in the road are what I'm really getting paid for -- I keep telling myself this is a GOOD thing. After all, the only way for me to learn hard stuff is to be forced into it. I will never in a million years say to myself, "Ohh. A computer problem. This is fascinating! Let me see... what is going on here?"
8/16/2005
weight watchers and biting
Tonight I went to my first Weight Watchers meeting. I've always considered Weight Watchers to be a good method of weightloss. For a long time I knew it would be my "diet of chioce" if ever I decided to do something like that. It's time.
I was surprised by the large number of people in attendence; there were about fifty people present. The teacher was energetic, informative, and positive. I arrived 10 minutes late and had to squeeze into a row near the front. I felt extremely self consious because compared to the others I am not very big. I was surprised by how much courage it took to simply sit through the meeting. For some reason tears threatened to accumulate throughout the 45 minute gathering. I did not expect this surge of emotion.
I think the points method will help me be aware of mindless eating and empty calories. The first goal is to loose ten percent of one's current weight. That is 16 pounds for me. (I weighed in at 165.) If I loose 16 pounds I'll be at 149, which is close to my ultimate goal of 145. As a nursing mom I am allowed more points. This makes perfect sense, but I find myself resenting the fact that I need to eat more in order to breastfeed. The longer I breastfeed the more I realize how much self sacrifice it requires.
My expectation was to love breastfeeding. Many mothers rant and rave about how awesome it is. Now that Melody has teeth I am tense and nervous the whole time she eats. She bites me about three times a day and it HURTS so much. I yelp a loud "NO" which makes her sad for about half a second. Then she smiles as if to say, "You aren't really mad a me, Mommy... you love me. Remember?" I can't help but gather her tiny body close and smile as if to say back, "Yes. You are right. I love you with all my heart." And that is the reason I keep nursing.
I was surprised by the large number of people in attendence; there were about fifty people present. The teacher was energetic, informative, and positive. I arrived 10 minutes late and had to squeeze into a row near the front. I felt extremely self consious because compared to the others I am not very big. I was surprised by how much courage it took to simply sit through the meeting. For some reason tears threatened to accumulate throughout the 45 minute gathering. I did not expect this surge of emotion.
I think the points method will help me be aware of mindless eating and empty calories. The first goal is to loose ten percent of one's current weight. That is 16 pounds for me. (I weighed in at 165.) If I loose 16 pounds I'll be at 149, which is close to my ultimate goal of 145. As a nursing mom I am allowed more points. This makes perfect sense, but I find myself resenting the fact that I need to eat more in order to breastfeed. The longer I breastfeed the more I realize how much self sacrifice it requires.
My expectation was to love breastfeeding. Many mothers rant and rave about how awesome it is. Now that Melody has teeth I am tense and nervous the whole time she eats. She bites me about three times a day and it HURTS so much. I yelp a loud "NO" which makes her sad for about half a second. Then she smiles as if to say, "You aren't really mad a me, Mommy... you love me. Remember?" I can't help but gather her tiny body close and smile as if to say back, "Yes. You are right. I love you with all my heart." And that is the reason I keep nursing.
8/15/2005
melody
I am realizing that feeling down doesn't necessarily mean I'm depressed. I am terrified of the depression coming back, so when ordinary sadness surfaces, I get scared. The death of my midwife's little girl has effected many people. When I mentioned my heartache to a friend, she said the day the little girl died set the stage for a dark and sad summer. I think she is right.
On a lighter note, I'll update you on Melody. We are still nursing. I received a new batch of domperidone in the mail yesterday. I ordered enough to last for several months. I came close to quitting, but decided to stick it out until she is a year old. To me it is more convenient to formula feed than breastfeed, but I can't deny the joy we share when nursing.
I love the way Melody calms down as soon as we're laying side by side. (We typically nurse laying down.) After she has eaten for awhile she pulls away and looks up at me. Her cheeks are flushed from our combined body heat. She grins with milk-glossed lips and my heart melts. Her eyes are bright with recognition as I talk to her.
Today we had a rough day. She cried a new cry. Shrill. Loud. Demanding. At first I wondered if it was a willful streak annoucing the arrival of a difficult stage. But as the day wore on, she seemed to be disturbed with pain. I cannot not tell if it is teething, growing pains, or stomach trouble. To ease her hard day I gave her two ice cubes worth of homemade peach babyfood. It is her favorite. Other foods she will tolerate are oatmeal, prunes, avocado, carrot, sweet potato and banana. She likes to clamp down onto the rubber spoon with her two tiny teeth. She grins as if it's a trick.
On a lighter note, I'll update you on Melody. We are still nursing. I received a new batch of domperidone in the mail yesterday. I ordered enough to last for several months. I came close to quitting, but decided to stick it out until she is a year old. To me it is more convenient to formula feed than breastfeed, but I can't deny the joy we share when nursing.
I love the way Melody calms down as soon as we're laying side by side. (We typically nurse laying down.) After she has eaten for awhile she pulls away and looks up at me. Her cheeks are flushed from our combined body heat. She grins with milk-glossed lips and my heart melts. Her eyes are bright with recognition as I talk to her.
Today we had a rough day. She cried a new cry. Shrill. Loud. Demanding. At first I wondered if it was a willful streak annoucing the arrival of a difficult stage. But as the day wore on, she seemed to be disturbed with pain. I cannot not tell if it is teething, growing pains, or stomach trouble. To ease her hard day I gave her two ice cubes worth of homemade peach babyfood. It is her favorite. Other foods she will tolerate are oatmeal, prunes, avocado, carrot, sweet potato and banana. She likes to clamp down onto the rubber spoon with her two tiny teeth. She grins as if it's a trick.
8/10/2005
more sadness
I am depressed again. I am still taking my anti-depressant but the past two weeks have been a blur. I do not have an explaination.
I know I'm depressed because I'm apathetic about things that usually matter. I don't care if I quit breastfeeding. The kitchen floor is sticky; I don't mop. I call people to chat thinking it might help. I stare into space instead of making conversation and end up feeling worse. Melody's mild fussiness gets on my nerves. I don't want to go swimming.
I think the sadness began in mid-July when a tragedy occured. One morning at 6:30 I got a call from one of my mom-friends. I immediately knew something was wrong. She told me our midwife's daughter, a five year old, had died the night before. The cause of death: a rare, unexplained reaction to a spider bite.
Our midwife is an amazing woman. She is a strong force of goodwill, kindness, and caregiving in our community. She's a best friend to all her patients. After the last postpartum appointment we're known to go through withdraw because we miss her so much. The news of her daughter's sudden death shocked us all. We immediately began cooking spaghetti, buying flowers, writing cards, praying, etc. Of course none of these things felt like enough. The mother's grief swallowed us because we love her so much.
Since then, I've felt lost and sad.
I know I'm depressed because I'm apathetic about things that usually matter. I don't care if I quit breastfeeding. The kitchen floor is sticky; I don't mop. I call people to chat thinking it might help. I stare into space instead of making conversation and end up feeling worse. Melody's mild fussiness gets on my nerves. I don't want to go swimming.
I think the sadness began in mid-July when a tragedy occured. One morning at 6:30 I got a call from one of my mom-friends. I immediately knew something was wrong. She told me our midwife's daughter, a five year old, had died the night before. The cause of death: a rare, unexplained reaction to a spider bite.
Our midwife is an amazing woman. She is a strong force of goodwill, kindness, and caregiving in our community. She's a best friend to all her patients. After the last postpartum appointment we're known to go through withdraw because we miss her so much. The news of her daughter's sudden death shocked us all. We immediately began cooking spaghetti, buying flowers, writing cards, praying, etc. Of course none of these things felt like enough. The mother's grief swallowed us because we love her so much.
Since then, I've felt lost and sad.
8/02/2005
a fast rundown
A lot has happened in recent weeks.
To summerize:
• I finished a huge freelance project. I feel FREE now. My sister-in-law visited for three weeks in order to help with the baby and the house while I worked. Having her here was spectacular. We got to know each other better than ever before. She was awesome with Melody.
• One of my best friends got married. The wedding was outside on a triple digit day. There were nine bridesmaids and eight groomsmen which made for a large affair. The poor boys melted in their black tuxes under a harsh Arkansas sun. Many friends from college were present. The reunion was fun, although I was awkwardly aware of my excess weight. No one else has had kids yet.
• I had a birthday. I am now one year away from the big 30 mark. Crazy. Chad and I had sushi together for the first time to celebrate. We liked it a lot; my favorite was the crab.
• Construction on our new house has begun. We're building a house in the country. It will be smaller than the one we're currently in. I'm happy about this because right now our meager furniture is swallowed up in this 1700 square feet. The new home will be around 1400. I'm envisioning a more cozy living area.
• I've been trying to spend on solid hour a day cleaning house. I'm excited about this plan. Things are looking more picked up than ever before. I like to do the hour of dirty work in the morning before I shower, if possible. This way I work like a mad woman and don't worry about getting grimmy.
• Melody is 7 months now and has two teeth. She sits up like a champ and loves to say da-da-da and ah-ba-ba. She weighs 14 lbs, 9 oz and is 26 inches long. I am having a blast with her.
Other very significant things have transpired during my blogging laspe. I am not able to list them in a piddly summary. I hope to expound, ask questions, and seek thoughts on the subjects soon.
To summerize:
• I finished a huge freelance project. I feel FREE now. My sister-in-law visited for three weeks in order to help with the baby and the house while I worked. Having her here was spectacular. We got to know each other better than ever before. She was awesome with Melody.
• One of my best friends got married. The wedding was outside on a triple digit day. There were nine bridesmaids and eight groomsmen which made for a large affair. The poor boys melted in their black tuxes under a harsh Arkansas sun. Many friends from college were present. The reunion was fun, although I was awkwardly aware of my excess weight. No one else has had kids yet.
• I had a birthday. I am now one year away from the big 30 mark. Crazy. Chad and I had sushi together for the first time to celebrate. We liked it a lot; my favorite was the crab.
• Construction on our new house has begun. We're building a house in the country. It will be smaller than the one we're currently in. I'm happy about this because right now our meager furniture is swallowed up in this 1700 square feet. The new home will be around 1400. I'm envisioning a more cozy living area.
• I've been trying to spend on solid hour a day cleaning house. I'm excited about this plan. Things are looking more picked up than ever before. I like to do the hour of dirty work in the morning before I shower, if possible. This way I work like a mad woman and don't worry about getting grimmy.
• Melody is 7 months now and has two teeth. She sits up like a champ and loves to say da-da-da and ah-ba-ba. She weighs 14 lbs, 9 oz and is 26 inches long. I am having a blast with her.
Other very significant things have transpired during my blogging laspe. I am not able to list them in a piddly summary. I hope to expound, ask questions, and seek thoughts on the subjects soon.
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