Wanderlust

Thanks, but I'll take a raincheck on that

We had a fairly busy weekend. Gretchen and Bert cam to visit for Turkey day. They arrived in time for the big feast on Thursday and we spent the evening by the fire, torturing each other with games like Sorry and Uno. The whole crew headed out to the shooting range the next afternoon, but I opted to stay home because enormous amounts of lead, gunfire and smoke don't sound like the recipe for good maternal health. We spent the evening chowing on way too much pizza, watching movies and generally acting like lazy gluttons. Saturday we woke up early, went out to breakfast at Gil's with plate size scones and then caught a sold out showing of Polar Express in IMAX. Owen kicked like crazy through it, especially to the parts with lots of base in them. We did some casual shopping, had lunch and headed home again for leftovers and movies and then our guests left Sunday at noon after a late breakfast.

Right after they departed, we did a few household projects and then started to fix up Owen's room. I began having some low abdominal cramps and twinges. Nothing too painful but alarming enough since most people don't have false labor until after 36 weeks and I'm only 32 weeks along now. But with no other symptoms and irregular pains that seemed to fit the description of Braxton-Hicks, I decided to adopt a wait and see policy. The pains continued through the evening but tapered off when I relaxed on the couch. So I said screw it and went to bed. We live less than a mile from the hospital. If Owen wants to be an early Christmas surprise, we're still close enough that I'll be able to go into labor in the lobby at the very least. Occasionaly twinges but a relief from the dull, aching pressure of yesterday greeted me this morning. If the cramps come back full force, I'll make a trip over to the midwife but until then, I'm ignoring you Owen because it's not your turn yet. And if you're planning on coming early, wait until December 31st. That way I'll be prepared but you can still be a tax write off. That would be cool.

Memoirs on Mommyhood: Part IV

HEY... WHO TURNED THE HEAT UP?

I only have about nine weeks left and it's a good thing it's winter, because I'm roasting over here! Who would have ever thought it? All that extra blood and body fat have turned me from a whimpering, shivering, circulation impaired woman to a human body furnace. George, who has always preferred our bedroom at artic temperatures because he sleeps better, is now getting a taste of his own medicine. I keep the house at 65 and when he comes home from work, he has to immediately turn up the heat to thaw the icicles that gather on his nose and eyebrows. He looks at me in wonderment,

"Aren't you cold?"
"No."
"But isn't it cold in here?"
"I guess so. I never really noticed."

He looks at me like a cyborg has taken over my body. I can see him thinking- this can't be my wife. My wife, who huddles in flannel pajamas and fleece socks from Halloween until Easter. Dear God, what have they done with my wife?

Owen is about four pounds now and our midwife says he's already in the head down position. His kicks and pokes can be seen from the outside of my stomach and look like waves rolling across my belly. He moves most in the evenings at bedtime- basically as soon as I lay still. I can see we'll have to load up on NyQuill before he's born so we can drug him often enough to prevent sleep deprived psychosis. The midwife was asking me at our last appointment if I had started feeling any contractions but I don't think so. An occasional cramp or twinge but if those are contractions, they'll have to get alot stronger for me to take notice or I'll be popping the kid out by suprise at work one day.

Yes, I'm still working full time (actually more than full time since I now manage the store, homeschool my boss's son, and tutor five clients on Mondays). It's been harder this week since my belly is beginnning to interfere with normal human functions like shoe tying. Also, because I seem to have caught a cold from someone (guess who) and I feel as if I could sleep and sleep and never want to wake up. It doesn't help that our endless list of things to do for the house never seems to find an end (I guess that's the definition of endless anyway). But I still walk three miles a day and try to fit in as much exercise as I can because I know every extra pound now will be a month of blood, sweat and tears coming back off later. And there's only so much Billy Blanks one person can endure. (Tao Bo, people. There's no faster way to lose weight that to try to follow that maniac for forty five minutes.)

When un-leashed Dogs attack! AAHHH!!

On Sunday, while some of you were debating whether or not you are for the war or against the troops, I was fixing up the house. Specifically I was installing some weather striping around the basement door to prevent drafts. We had the dogs in the garage un-leashed because lately we have been training them to be garage dogs. Anytime they cross the line from the inside of the garage to the outside, they are corrected. They have actually been doing pretty good. At first Miles didn't want to go near the opening for fear of being corrected, or worse yet having to go back in the house.

When the door is open like that, we are on the lookout for people and dogs who constantly walk by our house. This is a great time to train the dogs so they do not move or bark when things pass by. A couple in their 50's walked by and seemed to stop at the end of our driveway. Before we realized, our dogs took off because, although we couldn't see it, the couple had a dog with them.

Before our dogs reached the end of our short driveway, the man started freaking out. He was screaming "aaahhhh" and saying, "God damm, God damm". Somehow, in a split second, his dog broke out of his collar and started running down the street. Well that is all Miles and Timber needed. They too started to run. I think all three dogs were totally confused because this guy was totally yelling and freaking out.

Somehow the man's wife and dog went left, and our dogs went right. As our dogs were going right away from the other dog, the man was chasing our dogs, yelling, waving his arms like a totally crazy person, AND trying to whip our dogs with his retractable leash with the broken collar hanging form the end. I have no idea exactly what was going on because this all happened in the span of 5 seconds.

I finally was able to get Mile's attention and Miles stopped and looked at me. Miles knew there was going to be hell to pay. I grabbed his collar to bring him inside. Timber had already retreated to the safety of the garage. As I was grabbing Miles, the man apparently threw or hit the neighbor's mailbox with his dog's leash and said, "If I ever see those dogs again, I'm going to kill them". Kaz being a little cooler, said "I'm sorry about our dogs, but that is really not necessary". Then man was still freaking out and started saying "Never again" and then louder "NEVER AGAIN". I almost remember it as if he was still yelling "aaaahhhh" because that was what he was saying most of the time as he was chasing our dogs in the street.

After I realized what just happened (this all took place in the span of 20 seconds), I was fucking pissed. I wasn't pissed that he was going after my dogs. They needed a good beating because they hesitated before going out the garage which means they know better. I was pissed because this guy freaked out before the situation elevated to CODE RED. I mean, there was a situation that Kaz and I started by not properly restraining our dogs, but this guy totally went crazy before he even knew what our dogs intent was (which was to play because they are stupid labs). Instead of accessing the situation and trying to fix it, he freaked the dogs out and somehow in the process let his own dog break a leash. He created a situation that could have been remedied very quickly because Kaz and I were 5 feet behind our dogs. Miles actually stopped in his tracks because he knew I was mad when I yelled his name in anger.

I can understand him being concerned that two 60+lbs dogs are running for him and his poor wife and stupid collie. But as a dog owner, I know that this will happen from time to time because dogs love being around other dogs. In fact, Kaz and I have been approached by three or four different un-leashed dogs in the neighborhood since we've moved and it isn't really a big deal except a good dinner story. It is a problem, but a fact of life when you have dogs. So instead of trying to catch his own dog, he goes after our dogs? So if my son beats the shit out of his son in school, is he going to come to my house to beat my son up? I feel for his poor wife to have to put up with totally craziness. Maybe his fucking mom didn't hold him enough, or maybe he was attacked by a 10lb terrier as a child (because labs could never hurt anyone, *insert sarcasm*).

So for 20 minutes I couldn't stop talking about how this fucking asshole freaked out in front of my house in public. Then the sheriff showed up. The first thing I did was laugh. This is now becoming totally comical, I thought. We went over our version of the story, and told him that it was our fault our dogs were loose, although the guy was just plain freaking out like a child. The cop then said that the man said our dogs attacked his poor fucking collie. I think I laughed because, as I told the cop, I don't think our dogs even got within 3 feet of his dog. The cop said that he didn't see any evidence of an attack and that he got everything he needed to write a report. I asked if he wanted to see our dogs to make sure they aren't some crazed pit-bulls out to kill everyone. He said no, and repeated that he's got everything for a report. It made me think that he was doing his job and thought that the man over reacted (to say the least). The cop was at our house for no more than 3 minutes.

So, as you can detect from my writing, I am still angry. But only angry that this guy took the situation to a level that didn't need to be there. That he had the balls to completely lie to make a point. I fully admit I am to blame for STARTING the situation. But it is not my fault for elevating it to a level that is hard for me to comprehend. So this is what I'm thinking: find the guy's address from the incident report. Take a picture of Miles and Timber in Santa hats. Put the picture in the form of an xmas card. Have it say "I hope you have a Merry Xmas. Best Wishes, Miles & Timber" And then have Miles and Timber stamp their paws on the bottom. Mail the card. Hopefully that will show him that his actions on Sunday were not needed. I think of him as a clown, and I really don't take his stupidity too personally.

My two cents...

The ridiculous circus that erupted on the house floor yesterday may or may not be on your news radar. If you have no clue what the hell I am referring to, check out One Good Move for some excellent video clips of the live action (CSPAN producers were probably wetting themselves at the time). Basically, it all started with this guy (Congressman Murtha, PA) who has an enormous amount of respect despite being a Democrat because he was in the Marines for 37 years and has two purple hearts, a bronze star, and is often referred to as a "defense hawk." He dared to suggest that the administration make themselves accountable to the American people and the troops by providing a clear deadline of pullout from Iraq. The exact wording of Murtha's resolution is that the "forces involved are to be redeployed at the earliest practicable date."

Republicans proceeded to throw a hissy fit the likes of which every three year old would admire. The White House released a statement saying they were puzzled and dissapointed that a Congressman with Mr. Murtha's reputation would suggest "immediate withdrawal" from Iraq. Then Republicans started making rhetoric soaked speeches on the floor of the house about how Murtha's resolution to pull out of Iraq at "first light" tomorrow was a slap in the face to our poor troops stationed there. (I'd like to know why every Conservative Republican seems to have his hand on the pulse of every American serviceman in Iraq. So much so that they speak for them and no one ever bothers asking the god damn men and women serving there what they actually DO think). They interlaced these claims by reading "verbatim" supposed "emails" they were receiving from servicemen who were their constituents, begging their Congress not to "abandon them" or the mission and in one case, even calling Murtha a coward. (Two purple hearts and a bronze star, folks. Course, purple hearts and metorious service don't seem to stand up well against the mudslinging arm of the GOP. John Kerry could tell you a funny story about that). The Republicans then proposed an alternate resolution and forced a vote on it on Friday to embarass Democrats who wanted a real vote on Murtha's resolution. The new resolution stated that we should commit political suicide and that our troops presence " in Iraq be terminated immediately". The Republican Congressman (from California) who actually proposed the bill said, in repsonse to claims that he had rewritten Murtha's resolution to propose something Murtha never intended, said he felt it was in the spirit of what all the bad "press" lately had been calling for and that Democrats pushing for accountability and a timeline were dealing deadly wounds to the morale of our troops in Iraq by even having a conversation about when it might be a good idea to bring them home.

Here's what I think... I think a bunch of politicians spent an entire day throwing tantrums and wasting my money yesterday. And to make up for it, I think they should all be required to come in on Saturday and write an essay about what they can personally due to bring our troops home as soon as possible without compromising the safety of the Iraqi people or our own servicemen and women (must be two pages long, typed and single spaced). Then I think somebody should go to Iraq and start getting it from the horse's mouth. Are our servicemen and women more concerned about the deadly blows of Congressman Murtha's resolution or the ones that come from a Sunni sniper or a checkpoint car bomb?
And gee... do you guys wanna come home?

Owen's Room

This is the "Before" shot of Owen's room. When we first moved into our new house, top on the list was painting the baby's room (right after putting crazy glue on the neighbor's car door handles). Previously, it had been a non-descript white and the former owners seemed to prefer using as little paint as possible because the older color, which was blue, occasionally showed through in spots. Cheap Mormon bastards. They also had not sanded or washed the walls previous to painting and I often found short black hairs directly painted into the wall. Yes, this is thoroughly disgusting. But living with two dogs will kind of numb you to the gross out factor of human hair in your food, let alone on your wall. It's not like I regularly lick the wall. Not much anyway.

So about two weekends ago, we moved everything out of Owen's room into a pile in the middle of living room floor, where everything seems to reside indefinitely until we can get the ambition to actually put it away. I sanded the walls, washed them, plastered the various holes and then on my 30th birthday, George and I celebrated by applying the first coat of green. I know. Real party animals. Initially, I was a tad bit concerned because it looked kind of pastel and while I wouldn't mind if Owen was gay because I'm sure someday I'll hate his girlfriend, I wouldn't want to outright encourage it. But a second coat darkened the hue and I decided to do a brown trim around the doors and windows to match the 70's style brown carpet which we have no intention of replacing because we are poorer than we should be. The "After" shots may or may not be an accurate representation of the true color, but Miles looks cool and that's all that counts.

It took nearly two weeks of application, sanding, washing and rewashing and touch up. I still need to get a small bit of white and touch up some noticeably green spots on the ceiling and we decided not to paint the closet because it was just too much god damn work. But overall it's done and we're ready to put together the crib (thanks again Mom and Dad!) and set up Owen's room. (Hopefully we'lll get that done before he arrives but the way things are going lately I'm not holding my breath) Now I have to compile a list of "must haves" so we can take care of that before the chaos of the Christmas season, when I'd rather slit my throat than go within five miles of the mall.

I love redoing rooms... but I'd love it even more if I could just come up with the idea and then have someone else REDO it. Seems like so much less work that way. I know Martha Stewart would agree.

More ultrasound fun...

We've finally put together a gallery of ultrasound photos thanks to our new scanner. Visit and check out pics of Owen from as early on as 8 weeks to the present. We'll add to the album at our next appointment.

30... not that anyone's counting.

I wasn't expecting a piano to come swinging cartoon style out of an eight story window and squash the living daylights out of me, although if it did it might be just what I deserve at this point. But 30 seemed a huge deal from far away. Now that I'm on top of it, I've numbed myself to the significance.

I just never imagined it would be so god damn tiring… this whole life thing. I wake up and go to bed with not a spare moment of thought or energy to give. There are only rare slices of time when I feel as if I am living my life instead of it living the life out of me. Yet I sit here, with 30 years to my credit, and feel ashamed that in so much time I have not been able to find the hours to shape my own destiny. I find myself so terribly tangled and preoccupied with my extensive temporary “to do” list, that I never make it beyond tomorrow, much less next week. Is this how life passes you by… when you’re busy raking the yard or vacuuming the house? I have a feeling that if women could collectively give up our passion for cleanliness and nest making, we could conquer the world in thirty years or less.

And yet, I couldn’t really tell you how I ended up here.It certainly wasn’t a straight trajectory from manic, chubby aspiring writer to a house in the suburbs, two dogs, an engineer husband, and a belly swollen with baby. They were all choices that seemed inevitable and logical at the time, some even insignificant. But at 30 I look around and see they’ve somehow added up to a terrible normalcy. Don’t get me wrong. I adore my dogs, love my husband, and enjoy our home. I can’t tell you one thing I’d change. There is nothing monumental or inconsequential that I can point to as the source of my overwhelming feelings of mediocrity. My only regret is to find myself here, where it is the details of my life that shape the quickening days and not the glorious themes of idealism I had imagined when my life first became my own to live.

Equally sad is the certainty that there are millions of people on the planet who feel the same, whose disappointment bumps into my own daily. I see them across the counter from me, counting change or at the gas pump staring off into space. Their thoughts so loud they make a low frequency hum of dissatisfaction across the world. A hum we seek to drown in versions of better bodies, faster cars, bigger houses, and newer spouses. Every minute of the day spent in trying to distract ourselves from the heavy, unavoidable fact that in order for the world to continue turning, most of our delicious daydreams and illusions must be thrown under the wheel. Life goes on. And one day, it will go on without us. Every day sooner than the last.

Despite the finality of yesterdays gone by, I know this outcome is not inevitable. There are those, younger than I and much older who are forging their legacies out of hard won victories and small moments that add up to a life of significance. How do they find the time? What am I doing wrong? But I already know the answer. The terrible part about being an intellectual is understanding exactly why you’ve fucked up your life and still not being able to do anything to set it right side up again. It’s like the philosopher who searches for truth and finally realizes the only truth is the absence of real certainty and that truth is perspective. His search is a dragon that eats its own tail.

All philosophical musing and nonsensical mutterings aside, 30 years has brought to the forefront a driving force rapidly drowning here in the suburbs, lulled to sleep by the manicured lawns and comforts of a king size bed. If by thirty you haven't done IT yet, god damn it, you better start. Some of life's circumstances are unavoidable (babies, death) but the rest of the daily grind, no matter how it seems to mash you up and spit you out, is always up to you.

“If you have something to say, say it now because death will shut you up right quick and soon enough.”

Happy 30th Birthday

Happy 30th Birthday, Kaz

Today is Kaz's birthday and she is now 30. (as if you didn't know from the big font). I'm so glad I've known her since she was 25, and got to spend her late twenties with her. I hope the next 5 years will be a great as the past five years.

Being pregnant at 30 may seem a little cliche', but she is as beautiful and wonderful as the day I met her. I love you sweetheart.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

I' m not sure how we can begin to thank all the generous family and friends who participated in the baby shower. Having your first little one seems like such an expensive endeavor and since our little Owen was a surprise, we didn't feel quite ready on all fronts, inlcuding financially. But you have all been super supportive, generous and wonderful and it means the world to both George and I.

If you tuned into the baby shower, you may have noticed we started with an enormous box. That was our crib, courtesy of my very awesome parents and we'll be posting some photos of it as soon as we get Owen's room painted and the crib itself constructed. If you'd like to review the shower, we have posted photos in the gallery for you. If you didn't get a chance to participate in the shower and you'd still like to send a gift, we'll be leaving our baby registry up until after Owen is born and we'll keep it updated (just in case those crazy grandparents need some Christmas ideas). Thanks again to everyone... you're the best!

** Editor's note: Thank you's for gifts recently received include some super thoughtful folks like the Marcums for the gorgious quilt stand and baby quilt and also Christopher Morris for the softest baby blanket ever.

Baby Shower, Tonight!

Yes, we will be having the baby shower tonight, and we will be showing it live thru the webcam. It will be at 7pm MST (9pm EST). Hopefully everything will work and the video will be watchable. Last thing I want is you to view this one frame at a time. The direct link is here. I can't guarantee it will work right, but we will be taking pictures and posting them on the website.

I want to thank everyone ahead of time. I'm so glad so many people are so thoughtful. It really makes me feel good. Thank you.

So if you see something interesting comment on this post. We won't check it until we're done, but we can at least know someone was actually out there watch the event.