Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Bad Mommy Day

When Jason got home this afternoon for his brief 45-minute respite between afternoon work and his evening bible study class, I offered him $ 1,000 if he would stay home with the kids and let me go to church and teach his class.
He asked if I wrote him a check, could he deposit it. I said sure, but the bank might look at him a little funny as he tried to deposit a check into his account drawn on the same account.

Kids kicked my butt today, then cried when they had defeated me.
*sigh* I need to teach them to be better winners.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

Interchangeable Parts

The other night before bed Roslyn was having a rough time of it. Nothing she was trying to do was going well and she had been sent to her room (for the third time) with a stern voice about getting her pajamas on.
I went to her bedroom to get Sam's pj's and encouraged her to do what Daddy was telling her to do.
"Can you read me my story, mommy," she asked as she miserably began taking off her clothes saying, "I want to switch."
"You want to switch what, honey?"
"I want to switch people!"

Monday, December 07, 2009

I Just Read it for the Articles

As pointed out yesterday by my husband:

If this and this are my food porn, than Whole Foods must be my red light district.

Sunday, December 06, 2009

Landed Gentry

We bought a house ...
... a month ago!

So, if you had been wondering, this is a primary reason as to why we have dropped off the face of the earth (*temporarily*).
The additional reason would be three teeth. Specifically, three teeth since we moved at the end of October is Samuel's tally so far.
So, we've moved and I've had lots of feelings of loss and gain and have explored lots of things and unpacked many boxes and made adjustments now that I am home all day but, mainly, I've just needed a nap. So, if these things become important, we'll revisit this ground. In the meantime, let's move onward!

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Last Day

I think the liturgy for today says it all:

"The church of Jesus Christ is constantly changing. Our church is changing as well. Babies are born. Children grow up. People commit themselves to one another. Loved ones and friends die. Newcomers join our community and our church. Others leave, moving on to new places and new opportunities. It is important that we recognize these times of change. Today we say farewell to one who is leaving our fellowship.

"On May 11th, 2003, this congregation called Rev. Jason Carle to serve with us as pastor.

"Today that call comes to an end."


Such grace has abounded in our lives to have brought us to this place. It is hard to leave it, but with Thanksgiving we thank God for the opportunity to have served with these people and to have been a part of their lives.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Feathering a New Nest

As I imagine you've heard, we're moving.

I quit my job this week, Roslyn's last daycare day is Friday, Jason's last Sunday in this pulpit is this Sunday and on Saturday I am going to do my best to disencumber us from the accumulation of things that we have gathered here with a garage sale.

It feels good to look at the appropriation of our lives and say, oh, this is too much, I will get rid of you, and you, and you, and you. But, in the midst of all this, I find myself conflicted. I don't mind getting rid of the big desk or letting the extra mattress go for a song, I have even reconciled myself to selling our beautiful dining room table (too big for the new digs), but I am having trouble getting rid of my recliner.

This is no mere Homer Simpson-ish barcalounger. No, this well-used, separating from the frame, creaky, doesn't always rock right armchair has been my nest.

Before Roslyn was born I read that for the new, nursing mother, it was helpful to create a nursing station, a place where you could keep water, snacks, books, (in my case, the wireless mouse to the computer) your pillows, and other sundries of breastfeeding close at hand so that when it came time to settle in you were as snug as a rug; a nest is a common appellation.
So, while I was still pregnant, I decided that I wanted this recliner to be moved from the living room to the study, in front of the huge picture window looking out on the backyard, just across from the computer, next to a big end table. Here I knew I would spend hours and hours, reading mommy blogs, re-watching X-Files and working my way through BSG, and watching nature drift by outside, as I scarfed down my just for me snacks and people brought me water.
When Sam was born, it was all pretty much the same. I moved the end table between the chair and the window because I now knew how chilly the air off of the window could be, and I had shifted the CPU so it wasn't so noisy while I was watching the Big Bang Theory and Firefly for what must have been the twentieth time. And with Sam being the little wakeful guy that he is in the middle of the night, it is still our refuge at 1 or 3 (occasionally both) and where we retire to at 7:30 at night after Big Sister has been kissed and hugged and Daddy has been grinned at.

Sam and I tuck in to our chair, a blanket around each of us, and he drifts off while I zone out with whatever mindless frivolity the internets is offering up that evening. Every single night, just like I did with Roslyn while she was nursing.

Until tomorrow.

Tomorrow night, the recliner will be sitting in the garage, with a price tag on it, hoping that someone will pay me for them to take it away because, let's face it, it's not worth taking with us. I'm surprised it's lasted this long. But what I wouldn't give for the next week in this house, in this space, to also include this chair, because it's not just a place to park, it's been how we've created our life here.

So, if you're not doing anything on Saturday, come by and see if you want to make any of my old junk some of your new junk. All proceeds will go to, well, feathering our new nest in Kansas City.

But, if you walk by my old recliner, please don't turn up your nose too visibly at its shoddy condition or tsk-tsk over how much I've asked for it because I should pay you to load it up and take it away. Just smile politely and move on to something else. It may not be much to look at. But it has been such a home for me and my babies.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

We Are Family

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Welcoming our new member to the Family of God, October 11, 2009.

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Guess we won't be raising him as a heathen (or a girl; it's a gown, not a dress!).

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Holy Croup, Batman!

Croup. Really? Croup?

Well, crap. We've got croup.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Hippo, hippo, hippo, hippo

I now understand where this song came from. It was created because TMBG sat in a backseat between a three-year old and an eight-month old for several hours in a car on the way home after they had been driving all day. At that point in the day, it makes perfect sense.

Back from KC. Have more later (and I really mean it this time).

Saturday, August 01, 2009

All Aboard!

Well, we've done it.

We're on the Potty Train.

This is what Roslyn likes to call it and, since it's her accomplishment, who am I to argue? Last week she started wearing the big girl underpants and, consequently, has now sailed (I say this because I have mentally blocked the horrible few days where the accidents required OxiClean to cope, if you see what I mean) into several accident-free days in which she is asserting her readiness for her big day tomorrow: THREE YEARS OLD!
There is cake and a party and good fun happening tomorrow, and I will update on that after it has happened.

In the interim, we should chat about the last two weeks. It's been good. Jason had a birthday. He's 35. It was a good birthday, quiet here at home, but filled with the goodness that his birthday present would bring: ice cream.
I was lamenting at the beginning of the month that I didn't know what to get him, and then half jokingly offered to get him an ice cream maker. Not one to let grass grow, Jason pounced on this. But, I demurred because I have wanted an electric ice cream maker for the last three summers and have always put it off until the frost and then talked myself out of it. I felt guilty at the thought of getting Jason for his birthday a "gift" that was really something I wanted. But, I thought about it and proffered this:
An ice cream maker and 12 new ice cream flavors, one a week over the period of four months.
So, we've had chocolate flake mint (not green, thank you very much) ice cream, blueberry sorbet, and buttermilk ice cream (don't knock it until you've tried it). Plus, Jason has made maple ice cream with walnuts and last night we made cinnamon ice cream for company. It's all very good and has incited Jason to procure a bicycle.
That following weekend Roslyn and I went and picked blueberries and the four of us went to the Renaissance Faire (huzzah!) on Saturday. Also, we've been clipping right along with fresh veg and fruit and I've frozen blueberries and peaches and made raspberry jam and plum ginger preserves.
So, you see, I've been far too occupied at night to properly fill you in, dear internets. But, pictures will be taken tomorrow of the very first BIG birthday party. Come back and see how it went!

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Food, Glorious Food!



We have tried the rice cereal, and it is good.

Sunday, July 05, 2009

An Open Letter

Dear Sam,
You are six months old today.
I look at the time that has gone by this year and while I can't believe it is already July, I also do not have a firm grasp of what life was like when you weren't in our lives.
I am enamored with you. I see other lovely, delightful children, but then I come back to you and I am taken again and again with your sweet sunniness. I am filled with a delight I cannot fully describe that we get to be your family.
Your eyes are blue, and likely will stay that way by now. Your sister was a 1 in 4 chance that she would keep her blue eyes with her hazel-eyed parents; you were a 1 in 16, I believe. You look a shocking amount like you sister did at this age. It is eerie to an extent, but also very exciting to see how you and your sister will manifest looking alike as you both grow and mature.
We are getting ready to start food, and we have had a couple of forays into rice cereal. You were intrigued, but not entirely sold. I can't wait to start you on bananas, personally. I think you'll find them to be a real winner.
You are very close to sitting up, aren't really interested in turning over (though you have shown you can do it), and love, love, love blowing raspberries and spit bubbles. When the mood takes you, you can do this for long minutes on end with little or no encouragement.
When you sister walks into the room, your gaze gravitates toward her, like it is being inexplicably drawn on a tether. If you hear her from another room, you stop whatever it is you're doing and crane your neck to see if you can get a glimpse of her. When she comes up fully into your face, your delight radiates from your face and your limbs vibrate with pleasure. She loves you very much, as she tells me everyday. I hope that continues after you are able to grab for her Legos.
You sleep, well, like a baby. Which is to say, somewhat fitfully and not always with ease. But, I know this phenomenon now for the blip that it is in the developmental chart. At the moment, you wake yourself up with your flailing arms and cycling legs, so we have to keep swaddling even though your breaking out tells us you are getting tired of it. A little bit more neurological control, and I think we might end up in a completely different sleep place (at last).
There are not as many pictures of you in our house as there were of your sister. This lies firmly at my doorstep. It is not because, as I think many second children think, that you are not as well loved or that I take your experience for granted. More truthfully, it is because I am more present for your infancy. With your sister, I used the camera as a way to understand my own experience and to try to process it. With you, I am just enjoying it for what it has brought me: a remarkable sense of completion.
I recently heard the expression Le Choix du Roi, literally "the King's Choice." It is a French colloquialism used to express the satisfaction of having two children, one girl and one boy. It is so very fitting, for you and your sister are the stuff of delight.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

World Cup in 2031

Roslyn was working on her kicking skills this morning with her ball. However, she kept over-aiming for the ball and missing. Not to be deterred, she started methodically planting one of her feet in front of her, bending over and 'placing' the ball on her toes, and then standing up and kicking it before it rolled away.

We're in Farmshare heaven again! Last week featured baby beet greens, with the little beets still attached! I sauteed them with jalapenos, garlic scapes (also CSA), and white wine vinegar. Mmmmmm.
I've also decided this may be the summer of the Risotto. To start us off, I tried this Fresh Herb Risotto from the New York Times last week with some of our young CSA arugula (or Rocket for you Midwestern farmers out there).
Oh, and some of the things we've eaten the last few weeks in our family dinner project:
Turkey Slammers with Potato Vinaigrette Salad
Asparagus, Snap Pea & Avocado Pasta
Shrimp, Tomato & Basil Pasta
Pan-Seared Salmon with Gingered Sugar Snap Peas
Say what you want about Martha, the food is yummy!

Sunday, May 24, 2009

The Arm Bone's Connected to the Wrist Bone

We're in Kansas City for the weekend to see my sister graduate from High School. Ah, sweet alma mater. I may actually enjoy this :)

In the meantime, a brief anecdote to tide you over.

Baby Boy has gotten very good at sitting up with a little bit of support. So much so, that he will contentedly sit in his high chair, with a little bit of prop support, while we eat dinner. This has given me a new lease on life as I can now eat with two hands as opposed to trying to negotiate everything with one hand (every tried to pick up the last few peas from your plate with a spoon and no leverage? Think of it as a Zen activity). This was also made necessary as he had taken to grabbing for my plate, my spoon, my place setting, and my food while sitting on my lap. Not to mention the times that he jerks and whacks his head on the table (he cries, Momma cries, it's just not pretty; ask Roslyn).
Since he also can pretty easily direct things to his mouth to chew on while he is sitting, he plays with toys while he's sitting, too.
So, now at dinner, I have a cadre of baby toys lined up by my place setting. I give him one, he macks on it until its gooey, tosses it over the side, and I hand him another one. Think of it as a visual clock, like an egg timer, that lets me know how much longer I have to eat my dinner.
I never pick the fallen ones up off of the floor. Why, do you ask? Because there is something about sticky baby goo that makes little toys matted and generally disgusting. I mean, I love my children, but I have my boundaries.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Let Us Live to Make Men Free

So, I have issues. Specifically, Mother's Day Issues.

I have always had a hard time with holidays that has morphed into a Hallmark moment (I also have Valentine's Day Issues and welcome to Christmas in November!). This is no less true for the second Sunday in May once I found out the original reason for the day (look here and here if you don't know the activist, Feminist beginning of Mother's Day) and it is no less true now that I have my own children.
However, I have begun to mitigate some of my formidable opinions on this topic as witnessed last Thursday when Roslyn brought home from daycare a picture of flowers that she had painted with a little four-line poem attached to the top (the "flowers" were her hand-prints). That evening after she had gone to bed, Jason asked me if I was going to go in and confront her teachers. You see, I have long stated that if my child's time at school is used to make Mother's Day gifts, I will confront her teachers demanding that they explain the educational value behind such a lesson.
You'll all be proud of my self-restraint in that I demurred from doing so with Roslyn's daycare teachers because, well, it was an art project that utilized small motor skills and hand-eye coordination and because it was labeled as a gift, seemed to be encouraging a healthy self-image and sense of generosity in my 2 1/2 year old. Not bad for any school lesson, let alone one for a little kid, so I'll let it alone.

On Saturday Jason was at the second day of a two-day retreat in Chicago, and since we were just the three of us, the neighbors graciously invited us over for the afternoon and to stay for dinner. These would be the amazing neighbors where he is a meat guru and he pulled a beef tenderloin out of the freezer, cut fillets, and cooked steak on the grill. At dinner, he stated Happy Mother's Day to his wife and myself. I gratefully accepted his generosity as it was intended (they were fillets, and they were delicious), but felt a little disingenuous in doing so. Kind of like all day Sunday when people kept wishing me Happy Mother's Day and asking me if it had been a good Mother's Day. I kept responding, it had been a good Sunday.
It was a good Sunday and all of this leads me up to my issues. You see, I don't need for my children to have a day where they recognize how awesome I am. I am awesome. For the most part, I am a pretty fabulous parent, and I am certainly the best mom either of them are going to get, but I'm okay with the fact that they may never appreciate that. They didn't ask to be born, they didn't ask for me to re-arrange my identity; I did that all on my own. But Mother's Day in this country has seemingly become about expecting gratitude from one's children, one's spouse and partner, and the community as a whole that you were able to create life. If we were in the midst of a population downturn in the world, this might be rational; but we're not, so I don't think it is. Don't get me wrong, in the meantime I will continue to accept little endearing gifts from my children for as long as they feel the need to give them, without any lead from their father, and then when they stop, we'll just stop.

Now, if they ever forget my birthday, all hell is going to break loose.

At church, it has become more acceptable that Mother's Day Sunday is Gifts of Women Sunday (not everyone is a Mother, and not everyone got to make that "choice" as a choice), to celebrate the contributions of all Women to the enrichment of the lives of our communities. I like that. So, rather than wish you a Happy Mother's Day, I thank you for the time and talents that you spend to enrich your community and ask you to continue to work for Peace. Because God and your Mother did not create you to suffer or to cause suffering.

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Four Months Down, 212 More To Go

Shortly after Roslyn was born, we were remarking with friends that after the birth of a child, your conversations as a couple remarkably take a turn toward poo. You start discussing excrement -- how many did the baby have, what color was it, how much, what was the consistency, did you remember to buy OxiClean -- in an amazing array of detail, going places in your conversation that you never thought you would venture when you got married, let alone when you started dating.
This does wane after some while. But with a new baby, we were firmly back into the poo discussions. Roslyn, however, was not to be outdone by her baby brother.
She pooped in the potty for the first time last week at daycare. When they told us when we came to pick her up that day, Jason and I both exclaimed in joy, like we had won the lottery. I couldn't help sitting on my own shoulder watching that moment and thinking to myself, "I can't believe I am rejoicing with two relative strangers about my daughter's defecation accomplishments, and this feels like all is right with the world." Sigh. Life is too, too weird.

This post originally was going to start out at as a diatribe about 3 o'clock. Which one you ask? Well, my response would be, pick one and pick a kid. You see, about 3 pm Roslyn really wants to play and wants all of your attention. At 3 am Sam really wants to nurse, and doesn't want to let go for love or money (not that I've offered it, or anything, I'm just saying ...). But now Sam is having freaky sleep and freaky naps which means a lot more unknowns when he gets that glazed look in his eyes and I have seemingly missed my window to only complain about 3 am as we have thrown the door open on complaining about the entire day. And, for the record, a cranky Sam that needs sleep anytime of the day means difficulties with Roslyn as she has limited patience for the game of, "let's be quiet while I jiggle Sam". I don't think she appreciates how fun this is.

I would be remiss to not mention how much Roslyn's vocabulary has grown in the last couple of months. She has a very earnest way of telling a story that is beyond adorable, it makes her pucker up her lips and she looks out of the corner of her eyes and kind of shakes her head for emphasis, way too cute. Not to mention, she has taken to saying, "I like it" while eating anything with sugar in it.

I've gone back to work, don't you know. This is ok. As with Roslyn, I was thrilled to go back, but ambivalent at the same time about leaving baby at home. Same issues, different child. But being at work means I am an overall saner mommy, and that feels good. It has left for some complicated logistics of how to parent two when you both work and Jason and I have negotiated some good territory. We each have a swim day during the week, so we get out to the Y. We've got a sleep routine down so I get at least 2-3 hours of uninterrupted sleep a day. And we're eating real food at dinnertime. I am particularly proud of this accomplishment. Except for a couple of days where we fell of the wagon becuase of a funeral, we have had a real dinner every night for about 90% of our meals since the middle of March. We have both stepped up on this one, I have modified my work schedule for a few months to cope with the melty-time for Sam in the evenings and the outcome is that we eat together for dinner 4 to 5 times a week, all of us together. I am so proud of this, that I have been thinking about sharing it with you all every week. So, what we ate last week:
Saturday: Turkey Burger Slammers with Sweet Potato Fries
Sunday
: Skillet Chicken Pot Pie
Monday: Skillet Penne with Sausage and Tomate
Tuesday: Sesame Noodles with Asian Carrot Slaw
Wednesday: Jamaican Chicken Curry
Thursday: Salmon Burgers with "dry" Indian Potatoes and Creamy Cucumber Salad
Friday: Tomato Soup and Rice
Saturday: Turkey Meatballs in Chipotle Sauce

Thursday, March 05, 2009

Has It Really Been Two Months?

Hello to one and all. We are not on the verge of a nervous breakdown, nor are we delusional from lack of sleep. We have just been very, very full with all of our new family-i-ness.

Samuel is really wonderful. He is a very pleasantly dispositioned baby who eats well and seems to be fairly happy with the three people he got sidled with. He sleeps o-k; not fabulous, not horrific, but well enough.The stretches aren't an issue (he is starting to consolidate his sleep nicely), he does that ok, he just wants to be snuggled near somoeone most of the time. But, he likes his papasan, so that gives some much needed respite to mom and dad, even in the dead of night.

Roslyn is over the moon about her baby brother, and other than a rough week or two at the beginning where she had to reconcile the negotiation for my attention and trying to canoodle her grandparents when they were here, she is just a great big sister. She is growing by leaps and bounds, in particular in her vocabulary. Last week she said a five-word sentence, with all of the necessary words included, and she has taken to counting to five. She still thinks every color is blue, but sometimes I think she does that as a great big game (ask her the color, she says blue, and giggles when you tell her no, it's yellow), so it may just be sheer laziness on her part. Even without an infant in the house, she doesn't look like a baby anymore, she is quite firmly a little kid.

At the moment with Sam, we are in the midst of a developmental spurt (eight weeks, for those followers of The Wonder Weeks out there) and he is doing all sorts of things. He is very aware of the world around him, and is starting to understand that it can be interacted with. Unfortunately, this has brought with it the realization that I am a separate entity from him and that has made for some distressing moments, like today when I went to the Y and he cried for over two hours for Jason. It would seem that even more than my first child, I have "enchanted" him and poor Jason is ill-equipped to be a substitute. To that end, we are fiercely trying to introduce him to a pacifier, but to mediocre success; I suppose that at this point we'll just be content that he will take a bottle from Dad and leave it at that.

So, over the last eight weeks, a few absurd thoughts have crossed my mind and, while I didn't write them down, I did take the trouble to remember some of them to share with you all for you voyeuristic enjoyment.

Contrary to what I would have thought, Boys have a lot more crevices to clean than Girls in the Diaper Area. Poo seems to go everywhere.

This child is noisy. He grunts and sighs and ugh-ugh-ughs all the time: asleep or awake.

Obviously, Jason and I each have been "nailed" by a stream of pee. But, what you probably didn't know (or think to ask) is if Sam has gotten himself, and he has . . . in his head . . . thrice now. It occurred to me when he managed to shoot pee up on to his head that it was a real shame as this ability would probably be the stuff of legend on the playground if he could do it when he was seven.

He is exceptionally strong in his neck and spine. This is demonstrable as not only have people commented upon this to me, but last night I put him on his stomach for tummy time and he turned over to his back.

And last, but not least, I think I may have given birth to Mr Magoo.
Sleeping with dad

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

New Year, New Life

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Samuel Thomas Carle was born on January 5 at 12:44 p.m., weighing in at 7 pounds, 1 ounce and 19 1/2 inches long and very healthy

God is good.

Sunday, January 04, 2009

Milestones

The hour is late, physically and metaphysically.

We have passed Halloween, Thanksgiving with the families, Christmas, my last day of work, New Year's, our Anniversary, and now my parents have arrived to help us for the first week. The only thing left in front of me to which I can cling is one last morning at Church. Then, it will be here.

To be honest, I am more than a little scared. Oh, not in any concrete, I'm a-goina die, I'm a-goina die, kind of way. Death, at least my death, holds no fear for me. No, I fear something much more overwhelming to my INTJ personality (especially the J): change.

The unknown that I feel so apprehensive about is will the baby be well? Will I continue to be sick? Will nursing be ok this time? Will Roslyn be able to cope? Will I be able to cope with Roslyn and this one? Will I be able to do this better than last time? Will I be able to do this? There is no more time to dwell on these questions and to prepare because the answer is coming, even if I'm not ready.

I remember before Roslyn was born, the next to last night before I went into the hospital (although for confusing reasons, I thought it was a couple of nights before the last as I was to be induced the day after my due date. If you want to know the full story, bring me a latte in a couple of weeks, hold my child or fold some laundry, and I'll try to keep my eyes open long enough to tell it to you), I watched Keira Knightley's Pride and Prejudice. It is a good version. Mr Darcy is portrayed with just enough reserved panache by the MI-5 guy and Knightley's Elizabeth works more than Jennifer Ehle's ever did, IMHO. I remember watching it at about 4 am and being completely taken out of myself. The sun began to rise just as the movie was ending and for a moment, I was able to not worry about the future, to not worry about the change, to just be present.

To be present is something I have learned to do more reliably since Roslyn has come into the world. I have learned how to muffle that little voice in my head, to distance myself from that overtly analytical part of me that questions, and to embrace where life has brought me.

We have passed all of the milestones of what has to come before the baby comes. We are here. The moment is now. I ask God for Peace so that I can recognize my own joy. I am not one given to overt sentimentality as it touches my own life (sentimentality is fine for other people, but I like to just get on with it), but if you pray to a God, it would be very good of you to remember us, Little Baby and me. I know that we'll be fine, I'm just having trouble at the moment muffling that little voice in my head.

Thursday, January 01, 2009

Incandescent

That Rosy Glow is not me being pregnant. It's the color of my nose.

I'm sick (or, if you'd prefer, I'mbe thicke), and have been since Christmas. It started as a run of the mill head cold, ramped up to an infection in my eye, and now seems to be flirting with my ears. Seeing as how I am still an incubator, I can't really take anything, and seeing as how I am this late term (39 weeks today), I am doing really well if I can sleep for about 5 hours at a time.
I rallied briefly on Tuesday, but it has been downhill from there since my ears got involved. For all I know, my child (you know, the one not in the womb) is in the other room single-handedly pulling down the Christmas Tree: it all just sounds like a whoosh-whoosh noise to me.
But, I had a meeting with the OB on Wednesday (actually, one of her partners) who assured me that a chest cold (if this becomes a chest cold, which it tries) will not keep me from a C-Section and shouldn't result in any complications like Death. It just means, as I joyfully exclaimed to a doctor who doesn't know me and didn't really get my sense of humor when I said it, oh good! I'll be sick and I'll have a scar!
I really hope I don't go into labor between now and next week (when my OB is back from Vacay), because the doctor to whom I just suggested I might be crazy (like really crazy, not just pregnant crazy) would be my attending; awkward.

So, since it's a New Year and since I'm feeling icky, I thought I should post. For those of you that have not yet heard, Monday, January 5th is the big day. I am scheduled for a C-Section that afternoon and I am crossing my legs until then because I want the opportunity to not be sick before the baby comes.
Tomorrow is Jason's and my wedding anniversary and I think I will spend it being sick. We might go see a movie. We might sit around and listen to me moan. If I feel really spectacular, we will drive to an Indian Buffet since, unless I can canoodle my MIL or SIL when they come, the only sub-continent cuisine I'm getting in the next few months is going to be a Curry Simmer Sauce from Trader Joe's. But they have freezer naan bread, so, it's not too bad.

All the best for a New Year that brings you happiness. I'm working on mine.