The Runcible Spoon and Other Tableware Oddities

I've moved

2009-07-20T17:48:00.002-04:00

New chapter, new blog. And so it goes. Visit me here.

That last post

2009-02-02T06:45:00.002-05:00

So here's the skinny on that last post.

My sister's computer broke. This is my problem because I am the resident computer geek in my family. I man the help desk 24/7. I keep telling them this isn't what I DO. They keep calling me.

So after two weeks of continuous deflection and half-hearted phone intervention, I finally gave in and went over to my sister's house to have a look. I figured, if I couldn't help her, at least Kath and Chris could play with the kid for a while, and that would make everyone happy (including Dave, who got the afternoon to himself).

Long story short, I did figure it out. And it wasn't at all what I thought originally. But at least it's fixed. I thought I would be funny and write a little post on my blog, pull it up on the screen (to demonstrate that the internet was working again) and call Katherine into the room to "see if maybe I got something."

What did she do? Walk over to the computer? Scroll right past my cute little post, and demand, "Is it fixed?"

Arg. So much for being cute.

How much Ann rocks.

2009-02-01T17:07:00.002-05:00

This is a blog post about how much I rock.

I fixed Kath and Chris' internet connection, even though I had no business figuring it out.

That's because I rock.

Back to the baby doctor

2008-10-22T16:46:00.005-04:00

I bit the bullet. We're going back to the baby doctor.

I've been doing acupuncture and Chinese herbs and, yes mom, I've been having sex. But no baby #2. So I'm headed back to the gyn, and then on to the baby doctor. Thanks to my HMO's carefully orchestrated referral process, we should be back on the injections sometime around the middle of 2012.

We all want to do it the regular way, don't we? But you get to this point where it's like, whatev. I want the baby more.

Don't tell Dave. I think I want three. We'll see.

Rant

2008-10-20T06:56:00.006-04:00

I admit it. I'm disgrunted.

WHAT?

On Friday at noon, a client sent me an email asking me to review an idea he had for a weekly email special. This is a client who routinely asks me to review his half-assed ideas, which he then (sometimes) half-follows-through-on (if at all).

So nevermind that it's going to be a half-assed effort. And nevermind that my sql server got hacked last week. And never mind that that stupid SSL cert still won't install - I'll review your stupid idea (again) and get back to you.

Sunday, 8:48 a.m.
From: Stupid client
Re: weekly specials

Have you had a chance to look at?

WHAT? On Sunday morning? You asked me this question on Friday afternoon. I guess I'm not supposed to have a weekend.

ALSO

A client of a client is refusing to pay my invoice because she thinks it's outrageous that I make $125/hour. Outrageous? That a business should earn $125/hour? That the owner should take home (maybe) a third of that? Or that your sorry little PhD ass barely earns twice that? Are you feeling a little insecure about your graduate school training, sweetie?

NOT TO MENTION

Me: My back hurts. I really need to start exercising.
Dave: There's nothing to do. Just go for a walk.
Me: When am I supposed to do that?
Dave: Just go do it. Whenever.
Me: You just don't understand how hard I work.
Dave: Mmph.

AND FINALLY

~evening~

MJ: My gf is sick, so I'll be online and working on your stuff pretty much all the time for the next few days.
Me: Cool. Talk to you in the morning then.

~morning~

[crickets]

Crazy week

2008-10-16T19:56:00.002-04:00

This has been some kind of crazy week.

First of all, Monday was a daycare holiday. Daycare holidays are the worst. All my clients are working (criminy! it's only Columbus Day!), but since daycare is closed, I cannot work. At. All.

So I got up on Tuesday already a whole day behind. Had acupuncture in the morning, then bolted at 2:15 to head to Philly with Andrew for mega-death-metal-dead-babies-on-pitchforks-arrr-satan-arrr.

We saw five death metal bands, culimating with...wait for it...Danzig!!! All told, it was a VERY late night. The show ended at 1:30 a.m., and Andrew let me sleep the whole way back to his house. I love him.

Wednesday morning, I woke up to this IM:

"Ann, our site is screwed up. It's throwing all kinds of errors, and opening other websites, and it's not displaying right."

Awesome.

I'll cut to the chase: SQL Server. Hacked. Firewall. Not configured correctly. Passwords. All need changing. Seriously not my bad. Oh well.

Two days later, I'm finally coming up for air. I haven't done a stitch of work all week, and tomorrow's Friday.

Ack.

Silliness

2008-07-25T08:25:00.004-04:00

Silliness persists chez babyoog.

So long-lost Randy, the high school friend with the something-starting, possibly lesbian (according to Stephen) wife, and I were supposed to get together a couple weeks ago to catch up. But then there was all this drama. Now I'm in a holding pattern. Oh well.

It's kind of a shame because I've been waiting for 15 years to reconnect with him, but apparently it's still not the right time. It's making me wonder if there ever will be a right time. I hope so.

In other news, I'm thinking really hard about going to graduate school. I wish I'd gone right after undergrad, but things didn't work out that way. (I was pretty boneheaded back then! :) ) But unlike some regrets, it's never too late to rectify this one.

It would be a ways off. I want to have another baby first, and I have to ramp up so I'm as fresh with the material as my just-graduated counterparts (including taking the GRE and subject test), but I think I'm ready to prove that you really can go back to school after all these years.

Johns Hopkins University has two very cool programs - a PhD in English and American Literature and an MFA in Fiction. Not sure how many people they accept into the PhD program each year. They accept 6 each year to the MFA program, so it's very competitive. Pretty much a dream. But I'm awesome, right? :)

So what of Bevans Group? Well, honestly, I'm tired. It's been eight years, and it's been an awesome ride, but I'm starting to feel like I've learned everything I can learn from this journey. And it's exciting to think about heading off in a completely different direction, even if it's a ways off.

Woo hoo!

Would I?

2008-07-20T18:51:00.004-04:00

I saw my friend the other day and I don't know
Exactly just what he became
It goes to show
It wasn't long ago
I was just like you
And now I think I'm sick and I wanna go home
- "Emenius Sleepus," Green Day

I sometimes wish I could be 17 again. I think I wish for this because, in many significant ways, I've let my life happen to me. If I could make many of those choices again - actually make them this time, rather than letting the world make them for me - I would do things differently.

But is that really what I want? To be 17 again?

I recently came across someone I used to know. He has so much drama in his life, it's crazy. His wife actually wants to "start something" with me, which I think means that she wants to...fight me? Is that what that means? I don't even remember.

I miss having every possibility open to me, but I don't miss the naivete or the hormones. I think I've held on to more playfulness than most, but I am glad I've grown up. At least a little bit.

I choose...

2008-07-02T15:48:00.004-04:00

Dependence > Independence > Interdependence!

See, you 've got dependence, which means your can't survive on your own. And then you've got independence, which means you can survive on your own, but you don't benefit from others' talents, skills or experience.

And then you've got interdependence, which is a special way of relating to the world. When you're interdependent, you can connect with other people on mutually beneficial terms. You are capable of standing on your own two feet, but you can do more good in the world than you could on your own.

This principle is everywhere. These labels are from Stephen Covey, but my acupuncturist was telling me about how this principle applies in her practice. When you're performing acupuncture, you can give energy, you can take energy, or you can find a middle ground called "interface," where Qi is transferred back and forth in a way that serves both people.

That's what I'm talking about.

I can't sleep

2008-06-29T01:24:00.001-04:00

Just felt like telling someone.

News Flash! (duh)

2008-06-27T15:46:00.003-04:00

File this one under "Too Much Information."

So the thing is, I have crappy self-esteem. I know. News flash! Whatever.

Because I have crappy self-esteem, I have a hard time believing that anyone actually likes me. Moreover, when I get the idea that someone actually does like me, then I act like a complete idiot by being up his or her craw all the damn time, and by obsessing over every little conversation, trying to discern whether or not I am in fact liked.

Often, this results in copious amounts of screaming and running away. On the part of the other person.

I know it's not attractive to constantly ask people if they really like me and why. I mean, if the shoe were on the other foot, I'd be all, "Why do you keep asking me that? Either believe me or don't, but quit asking!"

Eventually, I'd probably run away screaming.

So why can't I get over it? This girl who has never felt like she fit in? Not for a single day in her whole life?

Don't other people have some objective thoughts about themselves? Don't other people believe that they are inherently likable?

Maybe the fact that I'm looking outside myself for the answer is precisely the problem.

Also, I'm 99% sure I found Randy, but he hasn't called me back. I don't know why. Could be a million reasons, I guess. I hope it's one of the more benign ones. For now, I guess there's nothing to do but let it go. :(

Sam the Eagle

2008-06-24T19:45:00.001-04:00

I just found out Sam the Eagle died.

No, not the muppet...the English professor who reminded Ingrid and me of Sam the Eagle because of the way he would stare off into space while formulating pithy, but relevant, remarks.
Sam the Eagle was likely to spill coffee on your paper while grading it. Once, when returning a heavily stained 3-pager, he said, "Ann, sorry about the coffee. It doesn't mean I liked it."

Sam the Eagle was in love with Emily Dickinson and would pause while discussing her poetry, as if reminiscing. Ingrid and I calculated that he was actually old enough to have had an affair with her.

My senior year, I wrote my honors thesis on Salman Rushdie's The Satanic Verses. Sam the Eagle was my seminar advisor. He scolded me for not having enough references. Then he congratulated me on my paper.

He was 84.

I can't believe I lifted the whole thing

2008-06-19T21:15:00.002-04:00

Today I was totally frustrated because I just could NOT figure out this flash thing. I worked all day on it and got NOWHERE. Then I had to go see Shaprina.

Shaprina is my trainer. She has been kicking my butt for two months. I love her for it. I almost (almost) like exercising. Well, I like chasing my kid around the playground without getting all tired and out of breath. Hell, I've had more fun on playgrounds in the past month than I've had in my entire life!

Also, I really, really like having biceps.

So, the point is that I was really frustrated and full of adreneline and cortisol and lots of other nasties, and it transformed me into a TOTAL BEAST at the gym. I was cranking on the elliptical and wasn't even out of breath. Shaprina put 40 pounds on the cable for a triceps press and I said, "I can't lift that!" She said, "Quit cryin'."

So I did it. And 15 reps later, I said, "I can do more."

I know I sound like a total gym rat, which is really not part of my self concept, but I hereby give myself permission to be a little bit of a jock because, dammit, I rock.

I know I know

2008-06-15T21:44:00.002-04:00

I've been gone forever. I'm a terrible person. Etc.

Today, Sam said "Mommy."

I feel the need to clarify. He said "Mommy!" and when he said it, he was talking about me.

At dinner, I was reading the paper while Dave shoveled Cream of Rice in the kid's face. We played a game. Sam shouted "Mommy!" and I peeked out from behind the paper. He got really good at it. He yelled Mommy about 112 times, and I didn't mind at all.

I think I found Randy.

What moves! He gets it from me.

2008-05-10T21:15:00.003-04:00

Seriously stupid

2008-05-02T16:51:00.003-04:00

This is seriously stupid.

I am so frickin' tired, I can't see straight. I am busy as hell, but I am completely broke. I can't seem to finish anything because everything takes ten times longer than I think it will.

I can't work any harder than I'm already working. Because I'm working all the damn time. I am averaging 5 hours of sleep a night. Because I work until midnight and then I get up at 5 to start again. And I want to have another baby? Please.

I need a new project (or 2 or 3) for cash flow. If somebody would just buy something, I could offload it to the aussies for design and then everybody would be fine.

Eight years in, same old shit. And that's what's seriously stupid.

YouTube Virgin

2008-04-30T20:38:00.002-04:00

Yep, it's me. Playing my guitar. In pajama pants.

ew.

2008-04-28T19:02:00.000-04:00

My car and house and hair all smell like vomit and it's not mine.

The Straw Trick

2008-04-26T12:19:00.003-04:00

Watch this video and see if you can figure out where the straw went. It's a great trick!

And, if you have about 10 minutes, get some tea and watch the last video I posted. It's hysterical.

Aw, my Aussies!

2008-04-19T11:00:00.002-04:00

Visit Ghost of the Bird

Random stuff

2008-04-14T12:57:00.005-04:00

So what's new? A recap:

Danny's bringing his girlfriend home for Passover, which is precipitating a huge seder, to include both sides of the family, including out-of-town guests. Not that that will be overwhemling for her or anything, since this is the first time she's met us.
I resurrected babyoog.com
I recently learned all about Brisbane, Australia.
Sammy said "yellow" for the first time.
Max's band played at the WIS International Bazaar. Their guitarist quit the band in the middle of the gig (we think).
I rediscovered my inner rock star.
I'm addicted to Facebook.
I'm still looking for Randy McGill, Towson High School, Class of 1993.
My IT guy came over and fixed my speakers, so I can finally check out all the cool links people keep sending me.
I am now leaving for the post office.

Later.

Today

2008-03-27T21:59:00.002-04:00

My son has learned how to dance. I mean for real...like a little headbanger. Today, I spent 20 minutes trying to teach him the devil horns, because they would just go so great with the dance. He didn't get it.

Maybe he'll have to learn from the master, Uncle Andrew.

Nomination for worst day ever

2008-03-22T15:36:00.004-04:00

1. I woke up at 5 am realizing that Peer1 was about to deprovision my server and I hadn't finished moving my files.
2. Spent all morning trying to figure out how to get the servers to talk to each other.
3. Spent the next 3 hours sitting in front of my computer moving my mouse every 30 seconds to make sure my connection wouldn't time out. During one of these hours, I was simultaneously preventing my one year old from a) pushing the buttons on the scanner, b) eating change, and c) knocking over Max's conga.
4. While I was moving a certain client's 50,000 mail items to the new server (I am not exaggerating), FTP failed. I still can't get the servers to talk to each other.
5. While I was waiting for tech support to help me, I snuck upstairs for a beer, only to find that someone had drank all my cold beer. I put one in the freezer.
6. I went back downstairs and noticed that all my websites were down. I continued to wait for someone to help me.
7. I went back upstairs to get my beer, which had frozen.
8. I went to the bathroom, which needed a preemptive flush. Upon flushing, the toilet overflowed. One of my kids said, "I was just trying to get your attention. I didn't know where the plunger was."
9. I went downstairs to get the plunger, only to discover that the overflowing toilet was leaking into the utility room.
10. I came back upstairs and had to teach a certain 17 year old man how to use a mop.
11. I am now on the phone with tech support. I am discovering that neither my server or my firewall was configured correctly in the first place.
12. My husband is about to kill me for sticking him with the kid all day.

Do I win?

One year

2008-03-17T20:55:00.003-04:00

I just closed the door on Sam's first year.

It doesn't happen every night, but sometimes, as I pull his bedroom door closed, I feel compelled to linger. I stand there, forehead pressed against white paint, left hand gripping the brass doorknob, and ask the universe to keep him safe, tonight and forever.

It's a private vigil. Dave and I almost always put Sam to bed together, but at the end of our routine, Dave switches off the light and slips into the hallway, leaving Sam and me alone in the bluish glow of his nightlight. I whisper a verse of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, tell him he's my little prince, and lower him into his crib while making a variety of promises about when I'll return.

Moments earlier, as Dave and I said our goodnights to this marvelous little being, I realized that precisely one year ago, I was sweating my way through forty-five minutes of pushing, ripping myself to shreds in places I couldn't feel, struggling like hell to get him out of me. We've come a very long way.

I've been holding my breath. I release it all: my breath, my worry, and the doorknob, and trundle off to bed.

It's been a very good year.

Biggest programming pet peeve

2008-02-15T06:17:00.003-05:00

Since Stephen pointed out that I'm not alone in my programming nightmare, I thought I would geek out and share my programming pet peeve.

When the kind of code I write (ASP) generates an error Internet Explorer, you get a generic "page cannot be displayed" message. (You can set your preferences so that you get a real error, but the generic error is the default).

Sometimes my clients call me to tell me they have an error. It goes like this.

Client: I'm getting this error. It says "Internal Server Error..."
Me: Okay, no problem. Tell me what you were doing when you got the error.
Client: The error says "Page cannot be displayed"
Me: I know. It's a generic error. What did you
Client (reading): "This page cannot be displayed. This may be due to
Me: No wait - I don't need to know what the error says
Client: "an internal server error or
Me: Yeah, that's a generic error it
Client: "the web page may not be available. Check
Me: ...
Client: "with your service provider for more information."
Me: ...
Client: ...
Me: ...
Client: So what's causing that?

It's my own fault. I condition these people to read errors to me like they're holy scripture. So here I sit, waiting out the last few lines of the default message that doesn't tell me JACK about how to fix their problem. And then I say, slowly so they'll understand:

"Thanks for reading that to me. Unfortunately, that doesn't tell me much. Can you tell me what you were doing when you got the error?"

Usually that works and we get the problem resolved in 30 seconds, but sometimes not.

The other day, I had already figured out what the problem was and was on my way to fix it while the guy continued to recite even more information about the error in my ear:

Client: "Microsoft has a knowlegebase that can help you determine the cause of this error. If you'd like to search the knowledge base, click here." There's a web link. Do you want the web link?
Me: Dude, it's already fixed.
Client: Really?
Me: Yep.
Client: Wait, I'll try it.
Me: ....
Client: Wow! It is fixed! Thanks!

AND NOW FOR THE GOOD PART......

Client: Jeez, you're the greatest.

~fine~

Squeezing a balloon

2008-02-14T11:47:00.001-05:00

I'm squeezing a balloon.

I'm writing a software application, and everytime I fix something, a problem bubbles up somewhere else. Squeeze that sucker in one place, and it gets fat someplace else.

I feel like it will never, ever end.

Bored

2008-02-12T15:40:00.000-05:00

So I've been pretty much on my own for the past four weeks, except of course for two lovely lunches with old friends. It's starting to drive me mad.

Nobody's emailing me. I left for three hours today and when I got back I had three new emails. Two of them were spam.

Nobody's online. Not even Miles. What is this world coming to that Miles O'Brien is idle?

It's cold in my basement.

I read a fascinating article in the Post the other day. It was all about the generational swing between idealistic generations and practical, solution-oriented generations. Apparently, the baby boomers (idealistic) are giving way to the "millennials" (practical). Go Obama.

I would love to tell you all about it, but you're not around.

The best part of the article? I learned that the generational motto of my generation (X) is "life sucks and then you die."

Go us.

Writing

2008-02-11T11:28:00.000-05:00

I've stepped back into fiction.

I think most people have a few dreams floating around in their heads, and most of those people think they know what the realization of those dreams should look like. But sometimes there's a disconnect between what form people think their dreams should take and what they actually want to do.

Take me. For a long time, I wasn't writing any fiction. I had this idea that I should be writing some big important novel, or at least some wonderfully popular, dreary chick lit. Isn't that what female novelists do? Take all the details of their own lives, from the mundane to the terrifying, change all the names, throw everything into a blender and pop out something poignant and terribly tragic?

I also had this thing about plot. Like, "I don't do plot." Yet everything needs to be figured out before we start, because otherwise we'll end up with really disappointing Stephen King endings, and disappointing endings are not permitted in important novels or dreary chick lit. Everything's supposed to click together like a jigsaw puzzle, all at the appropriate time, like an M. Night Shyamalan movie. So if you don't know the ending you can't possibly even start.

You can see all the double binds forming here, can't you?

Anyway, I decided to approach the question another way. Maybe, instead of forcing myself to write something that is so painfully boring, maybe I should think a bit about what I like to read. I could just write something like that, just to get warmed up a bit. So what do I like to read? Suspense, science fiction, books with lots of humor and a light tone. Quick easy reads with a nugget of beauty in them, and absolutely no pretense. Because nothing makes me put a book down faster than an author who senses his or her own importance. Ah ha.

On Sunday, I decided I would start writing a little bit every day. Nothing special - writing for the trash. Three double spaced pages of honest to goodness story. Sunday was HARD. I struggled like crazy to give birth to those three pages. Then, last night, I had a really weird dream. Not scary-weird, just "what the hell was that?" weird. So I kind of wrote around that. And it was easier.

So here's to fiction. Maybe my garbage will arrange itself into something poignant, or not. That's okay. At least now I might be getting somewhere.

Walking is a blast

2008-02-10T10:29:00.000-05:00

As baby phases go, I was deeply concerned about walking. The idea of chasing Sam back and forth and up and down just did not appeal to me. I thought my life would get so much more complicated.

Looks like I was wrong.

Walking is awesome! Sure, I have to follow him around a little bit. I have to keep him away form the floor lamps and the trash can and the oven (which still isn't child proofed), but my lord! This is so much better!

First of all, he can explore all kinds of things on his own. This makes toy fatigue a thing of the past. He can go from one thing to another and play for as long as he wants to play before moving on to the next thing. And I don't have to guess!

Secondly, I don't have the hold his hand every second, which means that I don't have to do the hunch back dance. Not only is this good for my back, but I can actually sit in one spot and watch him play, only jumping up when I have to intercede on behalf of the aforementioned floor lamp or trash can or oven.

By the way, he moos at cows.

Feeling lonley

2008-02-07T08:30:00.000-05:00

Hello world. I feel lonely.

I've been glued to my computer monitor for two and a half weeks. I finally emerged long enough to go to lunch with my dear friend John and his nice girlfriend Melanie.

John and I have been friends for 18 years. That's astonishing to me. And you know the best part? Zero drama. None. While it's true that I may in fact be the only girl in the great state of Maryland that hasn't dated John at one time or another, the fact remains that I haven't. And that's worked out really, really well for us, thanks.

John and I didn't go to the same high school, but it seems like we talked on the phone every single day from 14 to 17. We talked so much that my mother often wondered aloud, "Why on earth doesn't that boy just ask you out?" Before she met him, she would say it like she was annoyed I was tying up the phone. After she met him, she said it like I was denying her grandbabies by not eloping to Vegas with him. Immediately.

Parental pressure not withstanding, here we are 18 years later, having lunch at PF Chang's with Melanie. And there is all kinds of secret code going back and forth, but I'm trying to keep it on the down low so Melanie won't get the wrong idea. And you know what John says to me? He says this:

"This is the first time since I've known you that you've seemed really, really happy."

I am floored. I am floored because John and I, as close as we have been, have not been so close lately. Because I haven't seen him in two years, and I've been too busy to miss him. And suddenly I remember all the late night phone calls and all the bad breakups. I remember all the times he confided in me and stood up for me when I needed it most. I found myself hoping I'd been just as good a friend to him but, the truth is, I'm not so sure.

I'm floored because after all this, he still sees what's in my middle.

So yes, John, we will do this more often. Because as hard as life presses on us, it's our job to press back. I hope I've been a good friend to you so far, but I want to do better. Thanks for being there, and thanks for reminding me what matters most. I love you.

Greetings irrelevant ones

2008-02-05T20:50:00.000-05:00

Greetings my fellow irrelevant ones. Happy super Tuesday.

I'm not entirely sure what's so super about it, except that it happens to fall on Mardi Gras this year, which gives me an excuse to drink beer and whine about the delegate selection process.

26 states and territories hold primaries or caucuses after super Tuesday. That's 23 states, plus the District of Columbia, the US Virgin Islands, Guam and Puerto Rico. Maryland holds its primary on February 12. Uh...you wouldn't know it.

Could somebody please explain to me why, in the 21st century, we can't all vote on the same frickin' day? Hillary doesn't have to climb on the back of a steam locomotive and ride around the great plains shaking hands and kissing babies. We all know who Hillary is. And Barrack. Etc.

You know what really pisses me off about this? I never get to vote for anyone interesting. Heck, most years, by the time we hold our primary, there are only a couple of suckers left. It's like waking up the morning after Halloween only to learn that Iowa and New Hampshire bogarted all your Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.

Why do Iowa and New Hampshire get to go first anyway? Is it because we feel so sorry for them for being so boring the rest of the year? Poor Iowa. Nothing ever happens in Iowa! Let's get John Roberts out there to sit in a diner in his overalls for three and a half weeks opining about the majesty of the American political process.

Which brings me to the real problem. Guess what! It's the media! The media has stretched this primary thing out so long, I think it actually started before Bush was re-elected. Did you know Wolf Blitzer started that beard at the beginning of the primaries on a dare? You don't even remember him without it, do you?

Back to my beer.

PS: Andrew clearly doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does.

Vanity Search

2008-01-09T10:27:00.001-05:00

This morning I did a vanity search on Yahoo. I figured I'd get a lot of results since I'm constantly trying to promote my company online. And, to be fair, there were a lot of links to me and to the Bevans Group. But, sadly, this was the number one search result for "Ann Bevans":

Mary Ann Bevans - The Homeliest Woman in the World
Welcome to Phreeque.com, a virtual collection of photos and bios of famous and ... Mary Ann Webster was born in London, England in 1874, one of eight children.
...phreeque.tripod.com/mary_ann_bevans.html - 5k - Cached

Okay, first of all, what's this website? Phreeque.com? Nice. Now, just so you can enjoy the full effect of this, here is a photo of Mary Ann Bevans, The Homeliest Woman in the World:

Uh-huh. Now, by way of comparison, here's a photo on Ann Bevans, Not the Homeliest Woman in the World (I hope):

Can you see why this is distressing to me? How many hapless, potential clients are punching "Ann Bevans" into their search engines, only to happen upon "Mary Ann Bevans: The Homeliest Woman in the World"? How many of them think that's me? This is not helpful, professionally or otherwise.

Okay, you got me. That photo is pre-baby. To be completely transparent, I submit this photo from the final days of my pregnancy, back when I had my own gravity:

Can you see the moons? Seriously, North Korea was launching spy satellites into orbit around my belly. Someone should look into that. Miles, that's your beat, right?

Anyway, my point (if I have one), is that the internet isn't fair. There. I said it. One day you're tap tap tapping away about John Roberts ruining American Morning, and the next day you've got space junk floating around your mid-section. Or worse yet, you've got Mary Ann Bevans: The Homeliest Woman in the World.

It happened again

2008-01-08T09:00:00.000-05:00

Amazing! It's been almost 3 months since I've posted anything, and once again, crying chicks are in the news.

This time, it's Hillary. She "teared up" during a question and answer session in New Hampshire. Woah - stop the presses! A presidential candidate got emotional? Somebody page Wolf Blitzer!

In other news, I miss Miles O'Brien. He was funny and nerdy without being cocky. Unlike John Roberts, who is just an ass. That's a technical term. But I'm still watching American Morning, because it's better than watching the crap local news or watching Matt and Meredith fawn all over each other on Today.

I'm still trying to cut back on TV, but I am addicted to Between the Lions on PBS. They have a cartoon about Cliff Hanger who is hanging from a cliff (duh) and is always trying to get down. And they have a dinosaur named Thesuarus. And don't forget about Gawain's Word! And Fred! Oh, man. It's awesome.

Sigh.

By way of baby update, Sam is almost 10 months old. He's a championship speed-crawler, and he's cruising like crazy too. His personality is really coming out. He is, of course, incredibly bright. (Would I say he wasn't?) Here he is with Poppy on Thanksgiving:

It's fun now that the house is babyproofed and he can move around. He always goes right to the one thing in the room that is the least safe, of course, but for the most part, I can let him move around on his own and get some things done, especially upstairs. The office is still a problem, but I can check my email while he's playing, so that's nice.

Anyway, back to work!

Can't stand the crap

2007-10-25T11:30:00.000-04:00

This is total and complete bullshit:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071024/ap_en_ot/the_crying_game

Should she cry? Shouldn't she? Is Ellen really wrecking Hillary's chances for becoming president? God damn it! A person is sad. That person cries. How do we dare make fun of that? They're called emotions. Real people have them. Deal with it.

The bottom line is this: I am so sick of politics and spin, that I am hereby done. Finished. I don't know who to believe anymore. I don't know what to think. Everybody has an agenda. Everybody's polished to perfection. Trust no one.

Drought

2007-10-03T12:33:00.000-04:00

My son was born in March, and I've never taken him out in the rain. Because we're not getting any. Please send kind thoughts to our farmers and fishermen.

Drummer Boys

2007-09-28T18:18:00.000-04:00

Sniffle

2007-09-28T11:20:00.000-04:00

When Sam cries, tears come out.

This is a new development. When babies are first born, they cry and cry, but there aren't really tears.

Now, big sloppy wet ones. It makes him seem sadder somehow. It breaks my heart.

Merlo

2007-09-21T20:44:00.000-04:00

It's Merlo, not Maslo. Like the wine I had with dinner tonight. My oral surgeon. Duh.

I'm feeling much better now. In fact, by the time I found the most appropriate person to whine to (my mother), I was already feeling better. Dammit.

Well, so much for milking it. My gum is squishy where the tooth used to be.

The toof!

2007-09-20T15:44:00.000-04:00

I broke a tooth. Like, 2 1/2 years ago.

ASIDE: This whole breaking a tooth thing makes me feel like a hillbilly. Yes, I brush my teeth. Yes I floss (most of the time). I am 31 years old. I should not have broken teeth. Alas, I grind. And grinding weakens your teeth, and then they break. Who knew?

Anyway, I broke this tooth like 2 1/2 years ago, but I've been putting off getting it fixed. This is the same tooth I broke eons ago, and I had a crown put on. Now it's broken at the nub. The tooth had to go.

ASIDE: I hate going to the dentist. Vehemently. I go anyway, for all my cleanings and stuff, but I hate it. Mostly I don't like the taste of blood in my mouth. And the sound of the drill.

I managed to avoid having the tooth pulled because I was either a) trying to get pregnant or b) pregnant for, like, 3 years. So I couldn't have x-rays. So I couldn't get the tooth pulled. But finally, the jig was up.

I had a bad feeling about having this tooth pulled, even though the hygenists at my dentist's office encouraged Dr. Hirsch to send me to "the hunky one," namely my new oral surgeon, Dr. Maslo. He was in fact hunky, but this didn't make me feel any better as I fretted over the consent forms, which described in intimate detail gruesome potential side effects including, but not limited to, unending pain, nerve damage and/or the permanent loss of my sense of smell.

The pulling itself went fine. It was over before I knew it, really. But now I'm bleeding. Bleeding, and eating jello, and typing. And I'm a little sweaty. And I think I might throw up.

And it hurts like a bitch.

I knew this was a bad idea.

Blackberries (yum)

2007-09-19T21:06:00.001-04:00

I can't eat berries. They make my son barf.

Ah, the joys of nursing. The best, sweetest parts of summer snatched from my hands and hurled into space.

But I am overly dramatic.

Instead, of eating blackberries, I think I'll buy myself a Blackberry. So I can email while I'm driving and stuff.

Cool.

Tonight

2007-09-17T22:56:00.000-04:00

Tonight, I went crazy.

I've had the failed experiment called "the office" hanging over me for almost a year and half. "The office" is closely related to several other failed experiments, including "my staff" and "that guy I thought was my best friend," both of which actually feel worse to think about than "the office." Lately, I've caught myself involuntarily spitting out the following key phrases when I recall these wretched themes:

1. "What a fuck-up. Why the fuck did I do that?"
2. "Oh god, I can't believe I hired those idiots."
3. "Jesus, I wish I'd never met that moron. What a loser!"

In addition to very nearly wrecking me and my entire family financially, immediately following its slow and extraordinarily painful demise, the office had the hideous side-effect of filling my garage with all kinds of crap, from disassembled office furniture to paper samples to bags of sugar packets.

For months I've been contemplating the garage. "I should get the garage organized and see if I can sell some of that stuff," I'd say. The "sell some of that stuff part" was designed to make me feel like I could recover just a little bit of the estimated quarter of a million dollars I threw away on the office and the idiots and the moron. But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I couldn't bring myself to do it because:

1. The prospect was totally overwhelming. (Think floor to ceiling boxes, mixed and unmarked).
2. I was unprepared for the onslaught of emotion that would come with throwing out 247 styrofoam coffee cups, the "Dreams and Wishes" jar that used to sit on the corner of my desk, and an entire green trash bag of tangled, unidentifyable computer cables.

Tonight, the pain of not doing it (i.e., continually feeling the pain and embarrassment of the entire sordid affair, reinforced by all the stuff persisting in my garage) became bigger than the pain of doing it (i.e., getting a bunch of plastic bags together and going ape-shit in there). And I went crazy.

I now have approximately 482 big green trash bags, some of which are arranged around the edges of my driveway, and some of which are still inside the garage, waiting to be hauled outside. I am left with the following office items: three desks (with chairs and rolling carts) and four office guest chairs, which are actually nice and worth keeping. Everything else is either in use in my basement or previously sold. Or trash.

In my garage, we also have a weight bench, Max's old desk, two outdoor trash cans, several basketballs, a four-drawer filing cabinet and a heated towel rack that is decidely NOT childproof. Oh, and a box of wrapping paper.

It's done. Finally.

Sitting

2007-09-05T11:50:00.000-04:00

By way of baby update, the boy is now sitting up like a champ, including sitting in the buggy at the supermarket. He's starting to get a little more daring - bending over further to reach things, bouncing up and down on his little butt, etc. All of this is making him more likely to fall over than he was at the beginning. Strategy: clench teeth, grin, exclaim, "Hey, you're fine!" Seems to keep tears to a minimum.

Here we are headin downy oshun:

I took this pic while we were pulled off on the side of the road near a creepy clearing with part of a rusted tractor in the middle of it. Eerily, someone had been mowing around it. There was a path leading into the woods. Nearby, a middle-aged black lady took an awful long time getting her mail; she seemed to be watching us. I decided I would use this as a scene in my first horror novel.

Dave was laughing as he told the story to my parents. He said, "All of a sudden, Ann goes scampering off toward the damn thing, just like they do in the horror movies right before the thing jumps out of the bushes and eats them!" He's right, you know.

There are too many wonderful shots from the beach and a little before. You'll just have to go here to see them.

Meanwhile, Sam has started daycare full time. This is good timing as I am now totally broke from barely working for 6 months. His teacher, Maria, is totally in love with him. She emailed me in the middle of the day yesterday to tell me so. Then, when we went to pick him up, Maria's husband said (in his spanish accent), "Can I tell you something? Your boy is amazing! He is so beautiful!" To which Dave (politely) replied, "All the kids here are adorable." Maria's husband said, "Well yes, but some are more beautiful than others." lol

I'm a twit

2007-09-03T18:33:00.001-04:00

And a self-centered one at that.

If you think I owe you an explanation...

2007-08-27T21:36:00.000-04:00

...it's because I probably do.

Yes, I'm obsessed with my kid. I'm so obsessed with him, in fact, that I'm ignoring everything and everyone else. And I almost don't care.

I have to admit I do care a little. If you'd asked me this morning, I would have said I didn't care at all. Because I didn't. So this caring thing - it comes and goes.

Right now I care, mostly because I just read Jen's blog and I feel like I'm missing out just a little tiny bit on all the fun things Jen and Andrew and Dave and I used to do when our youngest had his driver's license and was, to the best of my knowledge, potty trained.

The thing is, you have this baby, and you get mad because suddenly everybody is treating you like you're transparent. But then, after about six weeks, you figure out you are transparent, metaphysically speaking. Suddenly, the hole that has been gnawing at your insides since you were a little child is filled in. And because of that, magically, you no longer give a crap what anyone else thinks about you.

Now, that can be a little dangerous. Because in order to get along in the world, it's useful for other people to think highly of you. Which brings me back around to the caring part, and the explanation. I think, so-and-so just doesn't get me anymore. But it's not because so-and-so has changed. It's because I've changed. Transformed, actually. And that may hurt both of us, because maybe you think I don't love you anymore. But I do. I love you so, so much better than before. I can do that because I'm a better person. Really.

So there's the explanation. It's probably not good enough for some, but I hope it's good enough for you, if you felt like you needed it. Please know I love you, even if I never call.

Goin downy oshun

2007-08-10T07:40:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow, we're off to Ocean City. We're staying with my parents, and my older kids and sister/sister-out-law are dropping by here and there to visit. Looks like the weather will be good, and I need a break. Of course, I'll probably need a vacation after my vacation, since I'll be dealing with the kid and my parents all week. Very different from the old days when Dave and I would snorkel off of Kauai or windsurf in Aruba!

Anyway, I was thinking about Baltimore - mostly the goofy accent I grew up with. Not only did we say we were "going down the ocean," when we talked about heading to the beach, but it sounded like "goin downy oshun."

That's silly, but I love it.

Have I got a job for you!

2007-07-12T07:52:00.000-04:00

WANTED

The United States of America has an immediate and ongoing need for thoughtful, intelligent men and women to serve at the highest levels of the executive, legislative and judicial branches of the federal government. Candidates must have a sincere interest in the welfare of all people, including those who live outside the candidates' political jurisdictions.

Recognizing that the government exists to serve the people (and not the other way around), the incumbent may be required to work in excess of 40 hours per week, including the days immediately before and/or after established federal holidays. This position includes the customary two weeks paid vacation.

Primary responsibilities of this position include the health and welfare of the citizens of the United States of America. Recognizing that many Americans have a high degree of intelligence and personal power, the incumbent will not seek to overstep his or her authority by dictating how local affairs should be handled. For example, the incumbent will not seek to amass huge numbers of tax dollars only to withhold them from municipalities that do not adhere to vague and inconsistent standards.

The successful candidate will seek to simplify the federal government whenever possible. The incumbent will work with his or her colleagues to find ways to reduce the number of government departments, agencies and offices by a substantial margin. Power will revert to the states and local municipalities who understand their own affairs intimately and are better positioned to address problems as they arise.

Successful candidates will have a strong and abiding interest in other cultures and will seek to understand and learn from (i.e., not crush and destroy) them. The incumbent will serve as an ambassador to the world, promoting the idea that the United States respects all people and intends to support their health and well-being by sharing its knowledge, especially any nutritional and medical knowledge or techniques that may lessen the suffering of others.

This position includes profit and loss responsibility. Therefore, a track record of personal fiscal responsibility is paramount. Credit references are required.

Above all, this position requires a willingness to work with others to develop win-win solutions to pressing problems. Creativity is a must. Weak compromises will not be tolerated.

To apply, post your resume here.

Experiment

2007-07-06T10:41:00.001-04:00

A few nights ago, we conducted an experiment, born of necessity. You see, Mommy had a stomachache, i.e. a fairly nasty 24 hour bug.

Because it was bedtime and she had just finished yakking, Mommy asked Daddy to take the boy up and get him to bed, then promptly passed out on the couch. Forty-five minutes later, she woke to the sound of screaming. It was Sam. He was screaming, "Mommy!"

Okay. First of all, I want to point out that my husband tried valiantly to soothe the boy and get him to go to sleep. He turned down the lights, fed him, talked to him - everything mommy does. He kept at it for three quarters of an hour while our 4-month-old screamed "mommy" and mommy did not come. Operationally, we call this "an eternity."

Secondly, it really does sound like "Mommy!" Even though I'm pretty sure that's impossible.

Anyway, when I finally regained consciousness, I promptly threw up. Right after that, I ran upstairs to rescue Dave from our screaming son. I found Sam lying on our bed next to Dave, bloated from the bottle Dave had been trying to feed him, still screaming. Dave looked at me wearily. "I think he wants Mommy," he said. God bless that man.

So what to do? I couldn't feed him anymore. He was already puffed up like a blowfish. So I got the pacifier, took him to the night-time feeding chair, and held him until he fell asleep. This took 4.2 seconds. Then I gingerly placed him in his crib and silently pulled the door closed on my way back downstairs.

So that about sums up the whole mommy experience. No breaks, but who needs 'em?

Being mom

2007-07-03T08:27:00.000-04:00

Dave says kids are a pain in the ass.

He's right, you know. Kids are a pain in the ass. They don't sleep when you want them to. They don't eat when you want them to. They don't poop when you want them to. The get bored with their toys and they cry for no apparent reason. They demand to be picked up when you can barely pick yourself up. They are wonderful with you only to scream randomly in front of other people, notably your mother. Kids are a pain in the ass.

They're also totally worth it.

Whew

2007-05-30T15:58:00.000-04:00

Dave and I have decided to start Sam in daycare two days a week. It's not an easy decision for me, but I think it's for the best.

It's necessary because I simply have to work. We can't make ends meet any other way. This is complicated by the fact that I refuse to rush him to sleep during the day so I can "get stuff done." And the whole evenings and weekends thing is not working. Even if it were remotely fair to Dave to drop Sam in his lap everytime he shows up at home, I am left with the pesky fact that I am in love with my husband and our son and like to spend copious amounts of time with them whenever possible. So suffice it to say that work is the least of my priorities, until I have a deadline or am totally broke, at which point I stay up working for three straight nights, which kicks up the dust around my fibromyalgia, which makes me feel like I was hit by a truck, etc., etc., etc.

Two days. Supposedly two full days, but probably just from 9 to 3 to start off, while I get used to the idea. We found a really great, loving provider who is close to home. It will be good for him. He can hang around other kids, and eventually play with them. He won't forget who his mommy is. (He won't, will he?)

The fantastic news is that he has started sleeping through the night. This is making me feel better, as it is surely a sign that he is extremely well-adjusted. Also, I'm still breastfeeding, which is hard has hell, but totally worth it, at least for me.

I hope he's happy and that he loves me, although sometimes it's hard to see. He cries for no reason and you think, "I'm a terrible mother." But then you drop him off for a few hours with his grandma, and he cries from the time you walk down the sidewalk until you walk back up it. And grandma says, "You're a wonderful mother." So who are you going to believe?

My day in pictures

2007-05-17T14:09:00.000-04:00

Just when I thought I had escaped the icy promotional grip of Spider-man 3, this happens:

Am I the only one who didn't see that coming?

In other news, as Sam and I zipped into Starbucks this afternoon, this hot little number rumbled by:

Of course, I immediately called Jen.

Come on, even if your name IS Jesus, isn't that a little weird?

And lastly, it's time for the cute Sam picture of the week:

I know. Could you die?

Chicken Big and Chicken Little

2007-05-09T17:16:00.001-04:00

Bros

Danny's home from college for a couple of weeks. Yesterday, we all sat around watching Happy Feet, which was beautifully drawn, but otherwise kind of lame. Hence the snoozing.

Everyone laughs when we tell them Sam and Danny are brothers. But boy, wouldn't you like to have a big brother like this to teach you stuff and hang around with at the playground?

Except when he's sleeping.

I jinxed it

2007-05-07T09:38:00.000-04:00

Oh well, back to all over the map.

In-laws visited this weekend. It was fun, but rather overwhelming for the baby. I did enjoy having my sister-in-law here to feed and hold him, which she loved. I could have used the opportunity to work, but instead I used it to put away 4 weeks worth of clean laundry.

My sister-in-law also cleaned the fronts of my kitchen cabinets, wiped up the kitchen floor, and scrubbed the gunk off of my coffeemaker. Normally, I would have been totally embarrassed, but I really just didn't care.

On Saturday, the pollen here was so awful that Dave couldn't even go outside. Unfortunately, he did it anyway and had a day-long sneezing fit that probably caused one of the disks in his back to pop out. Now he is laying on the living room floor totally immobilized. Yay.

Danny's home for a couple weeks. I love love love having him here, especially since it's such a short visit, but with him and Dave both home today, it's making Sam loopy. (Turns out we DO have a schedule, which goes out the window when Dave would rather stick with Judge Mathis than watch the entire Raffi DVD at the appointed time. No, you can't turn it off just because he's sleeping).

On the other hand, lying flat on the floor does not preclude a man from letting a baby sleep on his chest, which is definitely buying me some time right now.

In other news, a client's IT guy called to get me to change their DNS. I took the opportunity to pick his brain about why my new (old) computer won't talk to the network, and he totally hit the ball out of the park. I've been wrestling with it for 3 days, determined not to turn the laptop back on. Go Grant!

Okay, to work.

Not to jinx it but...

2007-05-03T05:25:00.000-04:00

Sam has started sleeping longer at night without a feeding - like 6 or 7 hours.

This took me totally by surprise. I mean, one night, it was every 3 hours like clockwork. And the next night, I put him down at 9:30 and he didn't make a peep until nearly 5 am.

Last night, he went to bed at 10 and woke up to eat at 4:15.

A girl could get used to this.

Last night I told Dave that, even though breastfeeding him is a pain in the ass, I can't imagine a world where I'm not doing it. That is not a value judgment at all (see MamaTulip's lovely post on breastfeeding, and not). I just mean that with this particular baby, it's been going so well and seems so normal that it's going to be weird to stop some day.

But of course it will happen. One day it will just start to seem weird. He'll need it less and less, and then we will stop. But I think I'll miss it. Time marches on. I guess we'll just wait and see.

In-laws this weekend!

Tuesday

2007-05-01T07:18:00.001-04:00

I like Tuesday.

I guess I'm glowing. I just wrote a long email to a friend describing all the cool things Sam does now, and how great his brothers are, and how many times he wakes up to eat at night, and how often he poops, etc. Okay, not the last one.

The thing is, you carry this little tiny baby in your belly for nine months, and you've been trying to get him in there for two years, and face it, you wanted him in there since you were 11, but the whole time you're pregnant you're thinking, "Am I really going to be any good at this? What is my life going to be like? Am I going to regret it? How could this little baby really love me?"

And then he arrives, and your whole world is topsy turvy. And you love it. And you hate it. And you are adamant about breastfeeding, but your whole body says NO! And people ask you what you need, and all you can say is "Sleep." And your husband becomes even more precious to you, but you are mad at him all the time for no good reason. And the whole time you're worrying, "Is he eating enough? Is he growing enough? Does he know who I am? How are we going to make ends meet when I can't even answer the phone?"

And one morning, when you lift him out of his bassinet, he smiles at you. And that big toothless grin lets you know that he does know who you are, and dammit, he's happy to see you. And one night you're breastfeeding while your husband snores next to you, and he falls asleep in your arms. And you hold him for 10 minutes extra because sleep doesn't matter as much as that time with him and how he trusts you.

It falls together. He figures out how to play by himself for thirty minutes so you can type an email and how to fall asleep in the swing while Raffi plays in the background so you can do the dishes. You figure out how to change diapers in the dark and when to pump so you can freeze some milk for your meeting.

Gotta go. My baby needs me.

Slept til 11?

2007-04-25T11:39:00.000-04:00

Just got myself a little perspective.

I was reading back in my archives and got to the pregnancy posts. You'll remember those - they were all about me sitting on my ass watching television with NOTHING to do, just waiting for the baby to be born. There was lots of whining about how I was so BORED and just wanted to the baby to GET HERE.

One post was called "Slept til 11". It all feels like a past life.

I wouldn't change a thing.

Daddy is funny

2007-04-23T19:10:00.001-04:00

Daddy is funny

For oh so many reasons.

First of all, Daddy doesn't know the name of a single plant. Not one. So when we go to Brookside Gardens for a stroll, we have a series of conversations that go something like this:

Dave (exclaims): "Look at those Yellows!"
Ann (mummers): "Forsythia"
Dave (exclaims): "And those Reds! Wow, those Reds are gorgeous."
Ann (mummers): "Tulips"
Dave (exclaims): "What about those Yellows over there!?"
Ann (mummers): "Daffodils"
Dave: "What?"
Ann: "Daffodils. They're called Daffodils. Or Jonquils. Same thing."
Dave: "Like I said, those Yellows are cool!"

These exchanges alternately make me feel like a nobel laureate and a snooty ass. But mostly they make me smile because my husband is such a goof.

Daddy is also funny because he laid on this brick wall with the baby. And it reminded me of a Beatles album cover for some reason.

I squatted to take this picture. That's right, I can squat again. Woo hoo!

Bazaar

2007-04-22T21:16:00.000-04:00

Today, they had an international bazaar (read: fundraiser) at Max's school. His jazz band (Max and the Maxalettes... ha!) played for tips for a few hours over by the grill. Max, 16, decided to announce at the mic that the baby in the green jungle animal stroller was his son and he needed to raise money to feed him.

Number 2 son is pimping out his brother.

They raised $20.

Caught ya!

2007-04-18T20:26:00.000-04:00

So tonight I'm writing a proposal on behalf of one of my clients. Tomorrow, I get to gather up all my files and go to their office for a few hours to print and assemble the thing.

I'm actually looking forward to seeing these people. (These are the same folks I couldn't wait to get away from three months ago). I guess I'm looking forward to it because of the distinct lack of adult interaction I've experienced over the last month. Plus, they'll all be ogling baby pictures like nobody's business.

This afternoon, we swung by a local school to pick Max up from his alleged baseball game. (It was canceled due to a scheduling FUBAR). He brought a bunch of his teammates and coaches over to meet Sam. They were all so excited to see the baby, but of course they hid it under a heavy dose of 10th grader cynicism.

Actually, Max's friends are markedly less cynical than I was at their age.

Anyway, I totally caught Max being proud to show off his baby brother, and that made me happy.

Right after we dropped Max off at his mom's, we (Dave, Sam and I) went to a burger joint for dinner. As I stood at the counter ordering, I surreptitiously watched as my husband picked our baby up out of the stroller, looked in his eyes, and told him the story of his day. Some lady near me said, "That's a good daddy." And I was like, "Yeah, that is a good daddy."

He didn't know I was looking.

Farmer Sam

2007-04-16T21:50:00.001-04:00

Overalls

I've had to start taking photos of my kid in all his cute outfits because he is growing out of things left and right.

I actually don't know where this came from. I think my sister gave me the shirt. The overalls might have come from her too, or from Molly's insanely generous gift of all Jesse's clothes through age 3. In either case, isn't it just the cutest?

Say bye bye to the shirt. I might be able to get it on him one more time. The overalls are cool for a while, although they are terribly tricky for me to get him into. Also, the process is not without emotional trauma for him.

Mom and Dad are coming over for lunch tomorrow! Dare I have the spicy stuff at Lee's kitchen? I have a theory about spicy food and breastmilk.

In other news, he is developing his daddy's hairline as he starts to lose his baby hair. Is it coincidence that he's losing his hair in the classic pattern? Gosh, I hope so. If he loses the hair on top next and keeps the little ring around the back, he's going to look awfully silly.

Seriously, look at his little foot. Oh my god.

Okay, I'm done.

Guitar! (at last)

2007-04-14T14:26:00.000-04:00

Guitar started up again today.

I wasn't quite ready, but Dave hurt his hand, so I decided to go back to preserve our lesson time. I'm glad I did.

First of all, I missed David. I gave him a hug when I saw him. He had no idea what to do with that, but he was a good sport.

And, I missed playing. I might have been a little burnt out before Sam was born, when I was trying to cram in all kinds of work and, consequently, my brain hurt most of the time. But now, after a solid month of diaper changes and spit up, when the most complicated calculation in my day is "how long since I fed him last?", it felt really good to do something that was mentally challenging.

That's why the situation with work is going to be okay too. Because it will all work out for the best, and because I just might start enjoying it again.

Off to mail the tax returns!!

Settling in

2007-04-12T19:43:00.000-04:00

I'm settling in to being a mom. Today, Sam woke up extra early, but then had a good long nap in the morning. Then we went to the post office, then to the park for a nice long walk.

Dave came home for a couple of hours after work, but had to take off for Max's band concert. While he was home, we gave the kid a bath.

Now I'm scared. Because I'm supposed to be "back at work" on Monday, whatever that means. The sum total of my "childcare" arrangements consists of my husband, who telecommutes most Fridays, and the occassional half-day with my mother, which I dare not abuse. And, from the emails I've been getting, it seems that all my clients are raring to go.

I thought I'd figure this out when the time came, but lightning has yet to strike. And god damn, I'm tired. Not the right state of mind for striking a balance between being a mom and a faithful worker bee, while pretending to all sides that I can do both full-time.

I keep telling myself that it won't be THAT much harder than doing all my work while holding down a 20 hour/week job with a wicked commute, and doing it all while I was pregnant.

Right.

Ack.

So smart!

2007-04-07T15:12:00.001-04:00

So smart!

My kid's a genius.

Not only is his head size in the 77th percentile even though he is average for height and weight, but he is batting for objects at 3 weeks. The proof is in the pudding, people.

[It starts. I swore I wouldn't go all soccer-mom, but it looks like I'm already on my way.]

Brilliant!

Our Anniversary

2007-04-05T13:51:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was our fourth wedding anniversary!

My mom called around lunch time and said, "Happy Anniversary!" I said, "Oh shit."

I called Dave and we played the "Do you know what today is?" game for a little while. After a few rounds, he said, "Oh shit." And that was that.

We thought it was pretty funny that we both forgot our anniversary. Dave said, "I didn't even know it was April. I had to get past that one first."

For dinner, we had delivery pizza. Then we watched Lost. It was glorious.

In other news, Dave's work buddies had a little shower for him today. I can't wait to see the stuff they gave us.

Also, we got the baby announcements yesterday. I'm mailing most of them today, but I still have to find a few addresses.

In addition to going to the post office, I plan to stop by the bank to figure out how to deposit checks that are made out to my infant son. Shall I have him drool on the back first? I figure if I show up with the baby and the notification from the division of vital records, that should do it.

Can you believe this? In Maryland, they don't automatically send you an official birth certificate when you have a baby. They send you a notice that it's been filed. The notice advises that you can have an official copy for 12 bucks. God damn you Bob Erlich (our former governer who jacked up the fees on EVERYTHING).

That would be my "give me free access to my own damn records" rant, which I will save for another time. (Except to say that, in these United States, your doctor owns your medical records, and he doesn't have to give them to you unless he feels like it. How about that! Write a letter to the insurance commissioner if you don't believe me. I did.)

Okay, I'm off to do stuff.

I folded the laundry

2007-04-03T12:54:00.000-04:00

I know, it doesn't seem like much, but I am pretty darn proud of myself.

In other news, Dave went back to work today. I was terrified, but so far, the day is going pretty well. The boy is taking a little nap just now. I suspect he'll wake up any minute.

Talked to Dave on the phone. He's miserable.

Dave has been amazingly encouraging. I am so grateful.

Also, I went to the store to buy shorts yesterday. The good thing about getting pregnant in June is that you spend pretty much all winter (and only winter) in maternity clothes. But yesterday, it was HOT, and none of my shorts fit.

I stupidly went to my regular store and picked out a few pairs - all in my regular size. Ha ha.

I would like to brag, however, that I am currently a mere 1 1/2 sizes bigger than I was when I got pregnant. I am amazed by this. I really thought it would take longer to get here. Not that I'm stressing about it. But it was pretty cool to walk out of the dressing room to get some sales-girl advice and watch their jaws hit the floor when I told them I had just had a baby - 2 weeks ago. They were pretty darn impressed.

Okay, enough of that. My other goal for today - register Sam for health insurance. Now where is that darn form?

Huh?

2007-03-30T11:49:00.001-04:00

Huh?

We took some pictures of Sam for his baby announcement today. I propped him up in our bed in just a diaper. Then we got him dressed, and he looked so darn cute in this outfit, we decided to take another picture. I call this one, "Where's the remote, woman?"

Time warp

2007-03-29T12:25:00.000-04:00

Somebody's living in a time warp!

I think the boy is in a growth spurt because he is hungry all the time. It's almost as bad as those first few days at home, before my milk came in. He took a 45 minute cat nap a little earlier, but then woke up. I managed to get him back to sleep by pacing the house with him in the snugli.

Dave has been amazing during all of this. He has really given me some good breaks right when I needed them, and he's been keeping the house from going all to hell - doing laundry and dishes, and cooking dinner. He's gotten us out of the house for regular walks and little trips to the store. It seems I married the most awesome dad ever. (But I already knew that).

Max is adjusting to being a big brother. He's not here a lot - he's so busy with school, plus he's only here half the time anyway - but when he's around, we will plop the boy on him occasionally. He does great. He even had his first spit up experience yesterday! :)

So all is well. I'm back in my smaller maternity pants already, and I can wear my regular t-shirts. (Okay, the bigger ones). I got a shower today, and I am determined to take Sam's picture for his announcement.

Whew! Mommyhood is hard work!

Awake

2007-03-23T13:53:00.001-04:00

Awake - Click for more pictures

And here is little Samson! I think I took this picture the day after we got home from the hospital. That would make him 3 days old. I can't believe how much personality he has already!

Click on the photo or caption to see our photo stream with many more pictures of the boy!

My world...duly rocked.

2007-03-20T10:39:00.000-04:00

I don't even know how to start this post.

Samson Gray Selig joined the world on Saturday, March 17 at 9:23 p.m. He weighed 7 pounds 8 ounces and was 20.5 inches long. He is utterly perfect.

When we got to the hospital, the labor and delivery ward was winding down from a very, very busy spell. (They deliver, on average, 30 babies a day at this hospital, so it's always busy). I had to be induced, so we were deposited in triage for five hours where I was put on monitors and given an IV with fluids. Dave and I did crossword puzzles and watched a Steven Segal movie on the portable DVD while we waited.

My blood pressure was going to be a problem throughout labor - it was spiking early. So when they finally moved us to the labor and delivery room, I already knew I was going to be confined to the bed for however long labor would last. They started the pitocin at about 6 pm on Friday.

I started having some bigger contractions, but by 5 am Saturday morning, I was still only 2 1/2 centimeters. Incredibly, the doctor offered me the option of skipping all this and having a c-section. I said, "Um, no thanks."

I was however, pretty wound up and unable to use any of my natural labor techniques because I was confined to the bed, and had to lay on my left side at all times. My whole body ached from being in the same position for hours. I went for the epidural.

I barely remember getting the epidural. I do remember that Dave and the anethesiologist were talking about some other topic the whole time. (That happens a lot. :) ) I found it annoying, but also distracting, in a good way. Dave wanted to watch them put in the epidural, but they wouldn't let him. Getting the meds was weird. It hurt, but it was over quick.

Then, I slept.

Spent most of the rest of the labor in and out of sleep. My parents came over at 1 pm on Saturday to stay with us. My sister was snowed in in Philadelphia, which is just her luck. By 5 pm, I was still only 4 1/2 centimeters. I was on my third shift of hospital workers.

I couldn't really get that much rest because I was throwing up every hour or so from the anethesia and from not eating. They finally gave me some medicine for nausea, and I zonked out just after 5 pm. When I woke up at 8:00, I was suddenly 9 1/2 centimeters! We were ready to push at 8:30.

I thought my parents would excuse themselves to the waiting room, but they stayed put. I was relieved that they stayed. I thought it would be awkward to push the baby out in front of my parents, but that was the LAST thing on my mind.

Took about an hour to get him out. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. I ended up with an episiostomy, a decent tear, and a vacuum assist. They plopped him on my stomach and all I could say was, "Oh my god."

Fast forward through the placenta, the stitches, and Ann totally whacked out on medicine.

All in all, I was in labor for about 27 hours. Wow.

So now you want the pictures, and I don't have them off of the camera yet. We were in the hospital for a couple of days, sleeping, eating and learning how to nurse. Got home late yesterday afternoon, and presently I feel like I've been hit by a bus. Thank goodness for Pharmacy Take Away.

Today, Dave and I are taking the boy out for a nice walk and to pick up a few things I thought I wouldn't need, but really really do. (Like a nursing pillow). I will try to get some pics up in the next day or two. Seriously, you won't believe how beautiful he is.

Thanks for all the support!! Love you all.

We're heading out

2007-03-16T12:45:00.000-04:00

Sam is officially out of room (and fluid), so we're heading over to the hospital to get induced.

Love to all! See you soon!

Still here

2007-03-15T12:37:00.000-04:00

Hi guys. I'm still here.

Yesterday, I got really depressed about the state of things. I have tried every trick in the book to get this labor going, and nothing has worked. I have reached resignation. It will happen when it happens, and not a moment sooner.

Oh my GOD!

2007-03-14T11:53:00.000-04:00

It goes on and on.

You guys, I know. You've been waiting forever! Since before the bugger was conceived! I want to satistfy you with thousands of photos of my chubby, pink little boy!!

I've spoken with my baby and expressed my growing frustration. Every morning I look down at my belly and exclaim, "Wouldn't it be fun to go to the hospital today and get BORN?" He usually kicks me in the kidney and rolls over. I am not encouraged.

If my fluid is lower on Friday than it was on Tuesday, I may get induced over the weekend. The baby at the end of that tunnel is the only thing that could get me even marginally excited about lying in a hospital bed for three days being pumped up with various amounts of medication, possibily ending in a c-section. Woot.

. . .

2007-03-12T17:56:00.001-04:00

Connect the dots
La la la-la
Connect the dots
La la la-la

Did I mention I have a doozy of a cold too?

Oh look, 40 weeks 1 day.

2007-03-11T08:54:00.000-04:00

A few contractions, but all false so far. In short, still no baby. :(

To top it off, I have a terrible chest cold. I am coughing all day and all night (big, phlegmy coughs) and my nose is running.

We are all on pins and needles waiting for something to happen. Everytime anyone comes or goes at our house (and there are a lot of us since Danny is home for spring break and Max is here this weekend), it's all "if you're not home when I get back, I'll assume you had the baby!" But Samson continues to disappoint.

I know it's dumb to be bummed out, but I am.

Another doctor's appointment on Tuesday. I'm starting to think I'll be keeping it.

PS: Obviously, the blood work was normal.

Got scheduled for an induction

2007-03-09T13:35:00.000-05:00

My due date is tomorrow, but my blood pressure was a little high at my appointment today. Got some blood work - it if comes back abnormal, that would indicate preeclampsia and I go tonight. Otherwise, we wait and see. I get induced on the 21st if he isn't born yet.

Here's hoping the blood work comes back normal, but we still go tonight - because he says so. :)

Slept til 11

2007-03-08T12:05:00.000-05:00

I am taking everyone's advice and sleeping a lot.

Actually, I'm sleeping weirdly. Didn't sleep much at all last night - the baby was very busy and I was tossing and turning, convinced it meant something. After Dave left for work I fell asleep for a good four and a half hours. Which means I woke up after 11. Which I never do.

As far as I can tell, there is still nothing going on. My mom and sister are calling every other day for an update, but I kind of dread it because there's nothing to say. I've got nothing to do but work, which I don't want to be doing, but it's better than going crazy.

I have another doctor's appointment tomorrow. Hopefully she'll say I've at least effaced some, if not dialated a centimeter or two. It wouldn't mean that labor is imminent, but it would mean that I'd have one or two fewer centimeters to go at the end.

Well, que sera sera. This is one thing I can't control. Not even a little bit. Maybe I'll just try to sit back and enjoy that.

Yes, I will try to blog it when I finally go into labor. Unless it's an emergency deal, of course.

Why I love Taylor Guitars

2007-03-06T12:35:00.000-05:00

I had never heard of Taylor Guitars until right before I went to buy my first acoustic. On a whim, I decided to look up what kind of guitar Dave Matthews plays, and that's how I learned about Taylor.

(yes, I live a sheltered life)

Anyway, I bought my first Taylor a few years ago - a 310 dreadnaught. I started taking lessons on that guitar. It was basic (by Taylor standards), and a little big for me, but it was my baby.

A year or so later, I got "sick birthday pricing" on a Taylor 814-CE from Guitar Center. We have a "guy" at guitar center, or so he would like us to believe. He hooked me up. The 814 is a grand auditorium-style guitar - a little smaller, with the expression system for plugging in. It is also one model below the guitar Dave Matthews plays on stage (the 914-CE). The only difference is that the 914 has a whole lot more decoration, which actually just seems gaudy when you're playing a very small room, like, for example, your living room.

The 814 is beautiful. Everytime Dave and I went to Guitar Center to noodle around, I'd play some other guitars, but I was always going for the 814. Sometimes, I would spot it out of the corner of my eye and think, "That's my next guitar!" And then I realized it was actually my last guitar. And that made me so happy.

Anyway, I was heartbroken when I discovered to not-unsignificant cracks on the back of my guitar. I actually wanted to crawl in a hole an die. Oh, the agony!

At first, I assumed it was my fault, but the cracks were on opposite sides of the center, with one at the top and one at the bottom. My teacher suggested that it could be a defect and that I should call Taylor.

I called Taylor and they agreed to take a look at it. They sent me an empty shipping box to usher it safely back home to California. I sent it off a few weeks ago.

Why do I love Taylor Guitars? Because they just called to let me know that my guitar is on its way back to me, the cracks in the back repaired, and with all new electronics. Seems I had kind of ancient electronics, and they just figured they'd replace them while they were in there.

I love Taylor Guitars.

PS: FOUR days!

Not yet...

2007-03-05T14:46:00.000-05:00

Still here.

I'm pretty bored. I'm checking in with my belly 40 times an hour. I'm seeing a lot of movies, and watching a lot of A&E. I am missing people, but also dreading the ringing of the phone because, no mom-dad-katherine, nothing's happening.

My back hurts...

2007-03-02T15:03:00.001-05:00

...and I'm cranky.

Waah.

The tiniest fireman

2007-03-01T16:09:00.000-05:00

This morning, at the ungodly hour of 8 am, I went over to the car seat inspection place to have a fireman install the car seat.

Yep, we have a "car seat inspection place." It's actually a pretty kick-ass service. For free, an actual fireman will install your car seat. For FREE! My tax dollars at work.

At least I think he was an actual fireman. He was wearing the official Fire Service hat. He certainly talked like he was a fireman. You know the type - all technical when it isn't even necessary. Like on Cops.

I kind of dig firemen. Not in a sexy way. I just think it's neat that they fight fires and stuff. I also think it's neat that they will drop everything and come roaring down your street at 9 pm, right in front of all your neighbors, lights flashing and sirens blaring, flying over speed humps, just because you think you might smell gas in your house. Even if it's actually just cat pee.

Anyway, he was in fact the tiniest fireman I'd ever seen. He tried to make up for it by talking big. He lectured me for quite some time about making sure I don't have anything in the back seat that could fly around and "strike my child." "Those things aren't tested the way the seats are," he said.

In the end, I was really glad he was small, since it allowed him to crawl inside my Corolla and demonstrate how to lean over the back of the rear-facing seat and put your weight on it to hold it in place while you tighten the belt.

Yep, I'm glad he was small, even though I still can't see saving Kurt Russell. Or even carrying a hose.

Last night...

2007-02-27T07:30:00.000-05:00

...Jen and Andrew came over for beer and cheesecake. I went on a bender - a sip of Jen's wine, a sip of Andrew's beer, and two cups of coffee - the last of which kept me awake and peeing all night along.

We had so much fun, guys. Thanks for visiting.

Ready

2007-02-22T14:50:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'm ready.

Don't get me wrong. I love being pregnant. Thus far, I've been fairly comfortable, and there's nothing like having a little creature squirming around in your belly. But I'm ready.

The last two nights have been tough. I can only lay in one position for about an hour before I have to roll over, which is an amusing process, actually, accompanied by copius amounts of moaning and bed jiggling.

Dave often gets up in the middle of the night, just because. He just doesn't sleep all night. Lately, he's been out of the bed more than he's been in it. I asked him if it was my fault, what with all the beached-whale rolling and the snoring (god help him - the snoring!). He sweetly denied that I was keeping him awake, but I pretty much don't believe him.

Work is getting done. I'm in that last phase - the "what do I REALLY have to do before this baby gets born?" phase. Like the Friday before a week-long vacation, I'm beyond panicky and quickly approaching "deal with it, people."

Yesterday, we cleaned out the inside of the car. It was totally gross. I found months of old french fries. I found a piece of gauze with the band-aid still stuck to it - a remnant from one of my 40,000 blood tests 9 months ago. The trunk was an archeological dig. But now we're down to the essentials: a couple of basketballs, some inflation needes, a basketball pump, an ice scraper, and two umbrellas. Everything's been vacuumed. The car seat is in position, at the ready. The firemen are going to install it in about a week.

If I last that long.

Big

2007-02-20T20:58:00.000-05:00

I didn't realize I was this big until Dave took this picture:

Thanks Jen!

2007-02-19T11:47:00.000-05:00

Thanks Jen, for the great link to the pregnancy ticker. It was fun to set up! Now you all can see how much time I have left.

(19 days!)

Of course, I was actually full term two days ago, so he could come any time!

Frustrated

2007-02-13T09:47:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling pretty frustrated.

How to characterize this frustration? Well, at present, I can't really produce to my usual standards. This is mostly true at work, since lately I've been a cleaning fiend and am actually able to take pride in the condition of my home, which is unusual.

So mostly the problem is work. But it's not just the usual "Oh, I'm so pregnant and I can't do what I used to do" thing.

The fact is, I'm perpetually bad at managing my workload. This is not in any way a new problem. This problem is what made me hire people two years ago. That was another in a long list of failed attempts to deal with the workload problem.

Because the thing is, when you are a marketing consultant/designer/programmer, you get paid by the work you produce. In order to make more, you have to produce more. Sometimes you are tempted to try to produce more than you can while still maintaining your sanity. Here are my current best guesses for how to deal with this problem:

1. Charge more
2. Decline projects

Charge more is not an issue. My prices are healthy. I make a robust hourly rate, the little annoying prospects run the other direction, and the types of organizations and business people I really like to work with never seem to get ruffled about it. So I figure I'm in a good spot, price-wise.

Declining projects is trickier. I'm totally over the idea that I have to take every job that comes at me. After more than six years, I am really good at spotting a job that won't be a good fit, either from a skills or personality standpoint, and I'm reasonably good at declining that work. But what if I really want to do the job?

This is where it gets tricky, because I do take on more than I can handle. I like money, it's true. But mostly I like what I do. Everything sounds so terribly interesting, and it keeps getting me into trouble.

So, which jobs to decline? What criteria to use? Can I spread them out more? It's all easier said than done.

Compound this with the fact that I'm pregnant, which rules out the one coping mechanism I've used successfully over the years - working my ass off, 18 hours a day if necessary. I just can't do it anymore. I may never be able to do it again. And it's forcing me to deal with an issue I've never properly resolved, although I've desperately needed to.

I don't have a hoohaa

2007-02-08T11:55:00.000-05:00

Thanks to CNN for this alarming report.

Seems that certain parties in Florida are offended by the word "vagina." As in, "I have a vagina." Consequently, one theater changed its marquee, which was advertising an upcoming production of The Vagina Monologues. It now says "The Hoohaa" Monologues (quotes too).

You can follow this link for all the details: Video: The what monologues?*

The otherwise hip-looking comedy club owner who had to make this decision clearly felt vindicated when TV crews showed up to do a story on the marquee. His shoulder-shrugging said it all: what's a guy to do when some lady calls up and tells him she's offended that she had to tell her niece what a vagina is? I'm sure he didn't mind the publicity either.

As for me, I don't have a hoohaa. I have a vagina. And a uterus. And two ovaries. At present, I also have a placenta, an umbilical cord, and a beautiful baby boy who, I hope, will never have to deal with idiots like these.

Point taken, Jen

2007-02-03T21:53:00.000-05:00

Incur my wrath, if you must, Jen. Remember, it's like having PMS all the time.

I'm stupified that Jen has never heard of the Great Vowel Shift. It's one of most important historical events marking the separation of Middle and Modern English. Rise of the diphthongs, baby.

My nose is running.

In other news, Dreamweaver got stupid. When you click on something in design view, then switch to code view, it used to pop you right to where your cursor was. It doesn't do that anymore, and it's pissing me off. Further dorky news bulletins as events warrant.

Oh, and one other thing. Two girls from my city who were reported missing were found dead in their car, and the media has nothing to say. A few old people in Florida are displaced by tornadoes, and we have to hear about it for 47 days. The news sucks.

Lastly, I walked into the kitchen today and started to worry that I was in the wrong house. It's that clean.

Life goes on

2007-01-24T09:53:00.000-05:00

I accidentally took a couple days off of work.

How does one accidentally take a couple days off? Well, it generally happens when I mean to work, but I really can't find the energy. I usually piddle the day away on projects around the house, running errands, etc. The downside of that approach is that I tend to feel terribly guilty and frightened that I'll never be able to work again. Curtains!

The good news is that I had energy this morning. I got up at 6:00 and I hit the ground running. It was then that I realized that the inability to work was only temporary. What a relief.

That's confusing

2007-01-22T11:16:00.000-05:00

Good news...

Went to the doctor on Friday, and she basically said Sam has grown into his kidneys. I can't help but feel like I'm being over-tested - that this is not a big deal and it wouldn't have even been an issue if I hadn't gotten the second ultrasound. But extra baby pictures almost make up for it.

Okay news... (I'm adjusting)

My doctor still thinks we should go to the hospital so the docs there can keep an eye on Sam and check for any lingering kidney problems after he's born. She doesn't like the idea of us going home after four hours (like we would at the birthing center), and being on our own without any monitoring.

I'm uneasy about this because I would prefer not to be in the hospital. I'm hearing things like, "It's okay to have a birthing plan, but it all depends on the doctor who's on call that day," and "Once you go to the hospital, you're really on the clock. They can't have you laboring in there on your own for 48 hours! They need the room for the next lady." (My doctor said both of these things).

I guess I'm just expecting for the birth to be out of my control. But Dave will be there with me, and if there's anybody you want on your side when men in white coats are charging at your va-jay-jay with a scalpel, it's Dave.

He knows Judo.

Confusing news...

Radiology kept moving up my due date. At my first ultrasound, they said "March 4!" Then, at the second ultrasound, "March 3!" At this last ultrasound, they exclaimed "March 1!"

While we can't wait for the spud to get born already, we were starting to get a little concerned. My original due date was March 10, and since we had an IUI, we KNOW when we conceived the bugger. So the date really shouldn't move, right?

Not a problem, except that Kaiser induces you if you go 1 (one!) week (one week!) past your due date. Now, I'm certainly not in favor of an episiostomy, or a c-section, or forceps, but INDUCTION? N.O. with repeating imperative punctuation!! Certainly not one week after.

So we were worried that they were going to try to induce on March 7, when it wasn't even my real due date yet.

The response? "Oh, don't pay any attention to the dates they give you in radiology. They don't mean anything. Your due date is March 10."

Crikey! Doctors suck.

Once again, Dave reassures me. "They can't induce you if you don't show up."

I love that man.

Ta da!

2007-01-17T09:50:00.000-05:00

Ah, yes. The long-awaited profile!

Stats:

33 weeks, 6 days

4 lbs, 15 oz.

Estimated Due Date: 3/1/07

If he keeps growing like this, we're going to have a February baby on our hands!

He is in a breech position at the moment, but we have a couple of weeks to see if he turns around on his own.

And, to top it all off, Dave finally felt him kick today.

All around, a good baby day. More on kidneys after our appointment Friday, I hope.

Vicki

2007-01-16T15:10:00.000-05:00

My dad called this morning to tell me that Vicki died.

Dad, like any respectable old coot, has made a habit of reading the obituaries. It's a good thing, too, because I wouldn't know anything about anything if he didn't keep me in the loop.

And Vicki? She was my 'cello teacher. For six years, I visited her little house on Atherton Road for my weekly lesson. Even counting the summer hiatis, that means I spent literally hundreds of hours with this woman. I hadn't thought about that before. Not until now.

Vicki was a music teacher in the public schools, and she taught private lessons in the evening at home. She was utterly jolly. She taught me so many things - not only about the 'cello, but about responsibility, confidence and doing what you love.

I liked playing the 'cello, but I didn't love it. I didn't practice four hours a day. Lord, some weeks I didn't practice at all. Vicki knew it. She didn't mind. She knew that I would learn valuable lessons from playing music, even if I wasn't a prodigy.

Vicki watched me grow from an awkward 11 year old girl to a full grown woman. The last time I saw her was at my senior recital in college. She hadn't RSVP'd. She wanted, she said, to surprise me.

Now, 10 years later, I learn that Vicki had colon cancer. She survived for six years - a terribly long time to have that disease. I understand that she was a guiding light for newly diagnosed patients, encouraging them through their early grief and helping them learn the ropes as they battled their cancer. I am not surprised.

Please visit Vicki's page at the American Cancer Society's Mosaic of Memories. It's a loving tribute to a beautiful lady.

Update

2007-01-15T16:43:00.000-05:00

Looks like we're headed to the hospital.

I just found out about a week ago that our last ultrasound showed that Sam's kidneys are enlarged. If it's true (and my OB seems to think it might be a false reading), then it's likely he has some kind of blockage in his ureter, which isn't uncommon in boys.

The good news is that this condition almost always works itself out and no intervention is required.

The bad news is that the docs usually like to ultrasound the baby after birth to make sure whatever it is isn't persisting, and we have to be at the hospital for that to happen.

We're having another ultrasound on Wednesday, and if everything looks okay (and we feel good about the tour of the birthing center, which we're still having Wednesday night), I may lobby for the birthing center anyway. I'm taking Dave along to my next appointment to be a hard ass, if one is required.

Regardless of where he's born, I'm still hoping for a drug and surgery-free birth.

In other news, I'm suffering from a serious case of senioritis. I spend my days procrastinating on work projects and my evenings either at various baby classes or nesting my little butt off. (You should SEE how clean the upstairs is!)

7 1/2 weeks to go.

So now we're thinking

2007-01-08T13:40:00.000-05:00

I had this whole labor thing figured out. Go to the hospital. Get epidural in the car on the way if possible. Pop out baby. Take a nap. My definition of a good labor was one that was minimally painful. Period.

Then I started learning about the process. Granted, I may have been subjected to some pretty powerful, carefully veiled propaganda at my one-day Lamaze class yesterday, but darn it if it didn't ring true.

The fact is, I don't know one person who has delivered a full-term baby vaginally. Not in the last 10 years, at least. And while my instructor (a certified doula) didn't say this outright, it became clear to me as the day wore on that, once you get to the hospital, you are on the clock. If you don't finish up before they need the room, they are GOING to wheel you into the operating room and cut you open. After all, other couples are waiting.

That may be a little harsh, but with 40% of babies born in the U.S. delivered by c-section, including all the babies of all the mothers I know, I have to wonder about my chances if I go that route.

So now I'm thinking. I'm thinking, "Maybe I can do this natural childbirth thing." I'm thinking, "Wouldn't it be good to try? Especially if it means I'm much more likely to avoid a c-section?" I'm thinking, "I need to look at this."

Dave and I both came away from our class yesterday with the same idea - that we should investigate the birthing center. That we should at least take the tour and see if it's for us. I guess we'll see what happens.

PMS all the time

2007-01-06T18:04:00.000-05:00

It's like I have PMS all the time. Quiet, moody, irritable, ready to fly off the handle without notice.

I'm yelling at my boss. I'm whining at my husband. I am completely unable to tackle any work. I sit. I watch TV. I eat chocolate. I feel bad about myself.

Today, Dave and I went to Target and bought all new towels because our washing machine ruined the old ones. It made them all musty and we can't get the smell out of them. The only way we got the smell out of the washer was several empty cycles with a mess of bleach. We also bought a new comforter for the nursery (for the bed not the crib), a comforter for Max's room, and six new pillows. It cost entirely too much.

I snuck a bag of Reeses peanut butter hearts on the cart, and told Dave I wanted them because I love him so much.

I am worried about the baby. I am worried about giving birth. I am worried that I've lost 20 IQ points in the past 7 months. I'm worried that I'll never feel normal again.

2006-12-23T16:15:00.000-05:00

Pachelbel Rant

Me too!

So, so tired.

2006-12-13T14:19:00.000-05:00

I am so, so tired.

The third trimester has come in like a lion, and will probably go out like a screaming heebie-jeebie. What's a screaming heebie-jeebie? Just a little nickname my mom had for my sister and me when we were kids. Those were good years.

Overdid it a little bit today. I had to sort the newsletters for mailing at work, and that involved a lot of bending over and a little lifting, although I got my office neighbor to help with much of the lifting. Between that and interviewing my replacements, it's been a pretty busy day.

Things are winding down at the j.o.b. I hope to be out of here by the middle of January so I can kick ass on a few more client assignments and get ready for baby. I plan to spend my last six weeks sipping tea in pajama pants.

Oh! My guitar teacher gave me "More than Words" to learn. It is totally awesome. I've been playing it lots for the past few days. Dave is about to kick me in the head.

Well, back to work.

Encountered

2006-12-05T08:31:00.000-05:00

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.

Albert Einstein

Recital update

2006-12-01T12:06:00.000-05:00

So I had that guitar recital last week.

It was an okay recital. I played Merrily Kissed the Quaker, which went fine.

During Dave's set, we were to play two duets, and then he was playing a Rick Ruskin number. The first song was called Acoustic Alchemy - kind of a new-agey number. It was sounding pretty good before the recital, but we had problems with the amp. To add insult to injury, my first string (high E) broke just before the recital started, so I had a new one on there. Of course, it had to slip right at the beginning of the song. I played through. Lots of not-so-right notes, and it wasn't even my fingers! Oh well.

On the second duet (kind of a jazzy number where I was comping for Dave), I totally lost my place. I told Dave to just keep going if I got lost, and he listened! I managed to jump back in near the end.

So I'm feeling a little bad - like I screwed up Dave's part. But he, of course, is not mad at me. Because he's not really capable of that, sweet thing that he is.

My shoes and rings are tight and all I can do is sleep. Hello third trimester! :)

Yep, I'm old

2006-11-28T17:48:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my birthday.

My apologies to Andrew, who scolded me for not telling him when my birthday was (in advance) so he could "send me a card or something." I don't quite understand how he doesn't remember the date. After all, we had physics together in 12th grade. (Well, 11th grade, if you are wee Andrew).

Wee Andrew. That sounds funny. He's hardly wee, is he?

You know who IS wee? Samson! I passed around the ultrasound at the j.o.b. today, and everyone oohed and aahed. I felt a pang of maternal pride. That was kind of cool.

So I'm sitting around the j.o.b., hesitant to go home because I know the house is empty, and that's lame. Dave is going to Max's basketball game tonight down at Edmund Burke. And the traffic is going to be horrible for both of us.

Work was actually kind of rewarding today. I put together a booklet for a presentation the guys have on Thursday. I got praised. I didn't see my boss all day. Overall, it was not too bad a day.

Why, oh why, won't my inbox accept big messages anymore? I find it irritating.

Blah blah. I've lost it. Too late for writing. Til tomorrow...

The beach!

2006-11-26T18:17:00.000-05:00

We already have our next vacation planned, thanks to Poppy, a.k.a my dad.

On Thanksgiving, my dad said, "I'm thinking about renting an apartment at the beach for a week next summer. Mom and I would stay all week, and you guys could come and go whenever!"

The apartment he rented just happens to be the same one we stayed in every year when we were small. Those Ocean City vacations were the greatest - back when a week seemed like a lifetime. I have so many great memories from that time - my dad cursing as he packed the car at four in the morning, stopping at Wilbur's produce stand for cantaloupes on the way (nobody grew them sweeter), my grandmother's bottomless bag of candy and comparable animosity toward seagulls, who had a habit of pooping on her.

My sister and I would wake up at 5 am, ready to go to the beach, but would happily oblige my mother when she suggested that we go out on the porch and count the seagulls to pass the time. I recently realized that was a trick, and she was probably amazed when we fell for it, but we did.

After breakfast, we'd walk the half block to the beach. In between sand castles, my sister and I would jump waves with my dad. Later in the day, we would pack it up, take showers, and hit the boardwalk. We'd stroll to the inlet, taking in all the t-shirt shops and taffy joints along the way, then play a few rounds of skee-ball. We'd finish off the night with a ride on the carousel, a peanut butter dip-top (over chocolate soft serve, of course), and a ride back to 8th street on the tram.

Today, Dad called to confirm the dates of our family vacation. "You do have to bring the baby," he said, as if I could imagine leaving him at home. After all, it seems to me that that's the point - for all of us.

I think mom and dad are going to make pretty terrific grandparents.

He's still a boy!

2006-11-25T17:24:00.000-05:00

My mom wanted proof that her grandbaby is a boy. So, Mom, here it is:

Ha ha! Okay, that's funny. Now, here's the real one for those of you who are already putting together an album:

Isn't he just the cutest!?

I have to tell you, we were thrilled to get this picture after the whole Skeletor fiasco last time. We were also lucky that he stayed still long enough to get this shot. Dave says he looks like a little teddy bear.

Stats: I'm now 25 weeks along. Sam is 1 lb 15 oz (there are 16 oz to a pound, metric people). He is 150 mm long from the top of his head to the bottom of his little butt, which makes him about six inches long, plus legs. I read the other day that my uterus is roughly the size of a soccer ball, and I am now decidedly showing.

15 weeks to go!