You're Fired!

Message from me to my obstetrician: I am going Donald Trump on you. Doctor, you're fired.

Aaron and I had an appointment yesterday with my OB, to follow up on the miscarriage and to talk about "the plan". Over the past ten days or so, since learning of the miscarriage, Aaron and I have both been doing some research and I am fortunate enough to know some peeps that are in the know on obstetric problems and miscarriage, so we came to the appointment prepared with questions and armed with information.

Unfortunately, my doctor sucks. Plain and simple...she totally sucks. She came in (panting and complaining about how busy her day was and neglecting to apologize for making us wait thirty minutes past our scheduled time) and asked, "So, what happened?" After doing some quick interpreting and deciding that she meant to ask, "Have you had any spotting since you were last here?", I told her that I haven't had even one iota of spotting, no cramping, no nothing. The only indicators of the miscarriage were the ultrasound and the lack of any pregnancy symptoms (other than amenorrhea).

After hearing this, my doctor looked back and forth between Aaron and me and said, "Weird," and "I don't know," alternatively at least six times. Then she told me she was going to give me some synthetic hormone pills to bring on a period and get my cycle back on track. And that was it.

I don't know...I guess I was expecting something more than that. Maybe some insight into what possibly happened. With miscarriages, I know that a vast majority of the time you never know what happened. I guess that's okay, but hearing some theories on what happened or some comfort would have been appreciated. Maybe some semblance of a plan would have made me feel better. All that she gave me was the instruction to take this medication--we didn't discuss when I should be expecting my period, when my cycles might be back on track, and when we can start thinking about trying to get pregnant again. When I asked about these things, she told me that my cycles might get back on track "after finishing the medication" and that we can start trying again "whenever".

Red flag--everything that I have read and heard has told me that after a miscarriage, a woman needs to wait one to three months to start trying to get pregnant again, and that she should use birth control until then. My doctor never once mentioned any sort of birth control to me and didn't give me any time frame for trying to conceive again. Honestly, I can't even think about trying to conceive again...I'm not anywhere near that point emotionally (or physically), but some information on that point, especially when I asked about it, would have been helpful.

The last straw was when the doctor was prepared to send me on my way, with this medication that can cause severe birth defects in children if taken while pregnant, without offering to give me a pregnancy test. Yes, she told me ten days ago that I miscarried, but stranger things have happened and Aaron and I have been having unprotected sex ever since I found out I was pregnant and we have no clue if I am ovulating or not. I had to ask for the test, and when I did, my doctor said, "Oh yeah. That might be a good idea." I am all for taking charge of your health care and suggesting options to your doctor, but this seems fundamental to me.

The other deciding factor for me was Aaron's reaction to my doctor. Aaron, who has an innate ability to see the best in every person and every situation, agrees that my doctor sucks. He couldn't deal with her through the rest of this ordeal and possibly through another pregnancy. In fact, several times last night, he told me, "I don't want to tell you what to do and if you like her, you can stay with her, but I want you to find a new doctor." Done.

Luckily, Grace has her four-year checkup this afternoon and I really respect her doctor, so I will be asking her to give me some referrals to new OB's in our network. Ironically, when I told my OB who Grace's doctor was, she was excited and told me that Grace's doctor is one of her favorite people. I'll be interested to see what Grace's doctor has to say about all of this.

Anyway, the pregnancy test that I asked for yesterday was negative, so I'm on the medication. I hesitated to take it because I feel like taking it is admitting that this is over and I am taking the final steps to end it. It's heartbreaking and I feel like some of the grief that I let go over the past few days is creeping back in. It's also a little nerve wracking, because the pharmacist gave me a warning last night that taking this medication could give me PMS times ten.

Oh good. Just what we need in our house...a little more emotion.

Angry in Sioux Falls

Dear Readers:

I am on a business trip in Sioux Falls. Thinking that it might be a good idea for me to get away for a couple of days, on my own, to spend some time reflecting on the loss of the baby and hopefully start to heal a little bit, I decided to go ahead and go on this trip and not cancel it or have a colleague go in my place. Those that know me well know that, during a crisis, I tend to draw myself in and need some space to pull myself together. The fact that this trip comes a week after learning that I am miscarrying seemed to at least serve a purpose in forcing me to take that time away and get that space that I sometimes need.

Of course, this theory might have proven true if I was actually READY to be on my own for a couple of days. I'm not. But, here I am, sitting in a hotel room alone, far from home, and panic is creeping in. I'm not ready to be alone, and the fact that I am is scaring the crap out of me. I am not yet prepared to deal with these feelings of loss on my own. Thank goodness I am going home tomorrow.

In addition to feeling scared, I am also SO PISSED OFF. Everything is making me angry. The idea that I can't actually talk to a human being to set my wakeup call--I have to program it into the phone. The fact that I have cable TV in my hotel room and I have every single news channel known to man except the one station I actually love to watch--CNN. What the hell is the point of having cable around if you can't watch Anderson Cooper 360?!? I don't have cable at home. All that I ask is that when I do have cable around that I ALSO have CNN! Who has CNBC but not CNN? The Holiday Inn in Sioux Falls, that's who!

And don't even get me started on the people who honked and waved at me as I accidentally turned out of the hotel parking lot the wrong way and headed down a one-way street in the wrong direction this morning. I could have jumped out of my car, pulled each one of these people (who were just trying to warn me of impending danger) out of their cars, and kicked their butts.

And then there was the freaky dude in the whirlpool tonight. All that I wanted to do tonight, after a long day of meetings, was to sit in the hot tub for a while and read my book IN PEACE. Nope, not happening for me. Freaky dude starts talking to me about how he tried to read his book in the hot tub but the water kept splashing his book so he had to stop. Guess what? I DON'T CARE. Then, as I got out of the whirlpool to turn the jets back on (whose idea was it to only have 15 minutes on the timer?) I caught freaky dude (who was clearly wearing a wedding ring) leering at me and watching my every move. Sick. I got back into the hot tub and tried to concentrate on reading my book, but freaky dude was sending weird oompa loompa vibes my way, so I covered myself up and hustled back to my room, looking over my shoulder the whole way. Bastard. If I find out that any of you men who read this blog (and I know who you are) go on a business trip, or go anywhere for that matter, and spend your time leering at women who are alone and making them feel uncomfortable, I will hunt you down and cut off your balls. And that's a promise.

Oh, and in addition to freaky dude, there were about ten teenage girls coming in and out of the whirlpool, all giggles and string bikinis. You just wait, skinny girls, till you hit your late 20's and early 30's. Your metabolism will catch up, and you'll be forced to wear a tankini and wouldn't be caught dead in anything with less material than that. You'll be too concerned about things like back fat and scaring small children if you display too much of your wobbly bits.

I'm just so angry. I think anger is somewhere in the grieving process, so this is normal, right? It doesn't feel normal. I have a temper normally, but it's nothing like this. I just want to go home.

Sincerely,
Angry in Sioux Falls

Not Sure How...

...to grieve for my loss.

This is not a baby that I ever held in my arms, or that I ever saw, or whose face I can picture in my mind. This was, technically speaking, a small cluster of cells and, depending on when I actually miscarried, possibly a very small embryo who was just starting to form. What was left of our baby was just a small black spot on an ultrasound. Still, this miscarriage has shaken me to my core. Just because this baby was never born doesn't mean this loss is diminished for me.

It's been five days since we went to the doctor and found out that we lost our baby, and I still am not sure how to grieve for our baby. Over the past five days, I have started to feel a little less devastated. I have gone from crying nonstop to crying just a few times a day, mostly when I can steal a moment to myself. I can put on a happy face--yesterday was Grace's birthday party, with friends from school as well as family, and I'd like to think that those people that didn't know about the miscarriage weren't able to tell that deep down, I am suffering. There are moments when the grief feels like it's going to take over my body--it's a physical thing, and it almost takes my breath away. Then there are times, when I am playing with Grace or when I am immersed in work, that I feel like one day I will feel okay.

So, I am at a loss for how exactly I am supposed to grieve. There is no closure. I still haven't had any physical signs of a miscarriage, other than cramping. That in and of itself is confusing to me and at times, I wonder if this was some sort of mistake, and that the baby is still alive inside me. All that I can do is put one foot in front of the other and carry myself through this as best I can.

Nothing Inside

I'm having a miscarriage.

Tuesday was my first prenatal appointment. Aaron and I arrived at the medical commons and were told upon registering that the doctor (who I hadn't met yet) was running quite late and that we were in for a bit of a wait. No problem, I thought...Grace didn't need to be picked up from day care for a couple of hours yet and there were plenty of magazines to read, so we made ourselves comfortable in the waiting area and enjoyed some quiet reading time.

After waiting 20 minutes or so, a nurse came out and called us back to a room. She told us that she would be asking me a bunch of questions to get information about my medical history since I was a new patient. Afterwards, I would need to wait some more and then I would be able to meet with the doctor. We went through all of the medical history questions, discussed family genetics for both my family and Aaron's, and then the nurse gave us the prenatal nutrition speech (diet, exercise, etc) and told us a little more about the facility where I would be delivering the baby. Standard first prenatal visit stuff.

We were sent back out to the waiting room, and after waiting a bit more, my doctor's medical assistant came out to us and told us that unfortunately the doctor was delayed a bit more. She suggested that I head down to the lab to have my prenatal blood tests drawn while we wait. She gave us the clinic's thick "Information for Expectant Parents" binder to read while waiting and sent us down to the lab. We paged through the binder while we waited and then I had my lab work done, peed in a cup, and soon we were heading back upstairs to the clinic.

Finally, about an hour and a half after our scheduled appointment time, we were called back to see the doctor. The medical assistant weighed me and said, "Let's get your blood pressure before we take you back to the ultrasound room."

Huh? Ultrasound?

I asked the medical assistant why I was having an ultrasound so early (I didn't have one with Grace until I was more than 12 weeks along), and she says that they typically like to do them on the first prenatal visit, but that they don't always have the space or availability to guarantee it for each woman, so it's not something that they don't tell patients when they make their appointment. Cool, I thought. We can see the baby today!

Then, suddenly, something inside me said, "No. I do not want to have this ultrasound." In fact, when the medical assistant took my blood pressure, she asked me, "Are you nervous?" I told her that I was, and she told me my blood pressure was high, something like 140/86. She joked and told me that she would let it slip this time. We walked to the ultrasound room, and waited for the doctor.

While we were waiting, I told Aaron how nervous I was feeling. He asked me why, and I told him that I was nervous that something was wrong. He told me that I shouldn't worry, that everything was okay, and that if it wasn't, that he would be here for me. I remember feeling so nervous that I could have jumped out of my skin. I even toyed with the idea of running out of the room and canceling the appointment. I just had a horrible feeling that something was wrong and I wanted to avoid finding out what it was.

The doctor came in and apologized for our long wait, explaining that she was on call and that she had a patient in labor over at the hospital who was getting ready to push. And then she got paged, excused herself to take the call, and eventually came back in. She quickly scanned the medical history information that her nurse had taken earlier, asked me some questions about my last pregnancy, and noted that I was vomiting earlier this week. She asked me if I had a fever when I was sick and I said yes, I had a low grade fever while I was throwing up. She told me that she thought that the vomiting was not related to morning sickness at all, because of the fever, and that it was probably just a fluke and a coincidence and that hopefully I would escape the morning sickness monster altogether. She also did some quick calculations and confirmed that I was eight weeks pregnant and that my due date would be January 5th. She was excited because I was to be her first '09 mom.

January 5th. I will never forget that date.

And then came the pelvic exam. Aaron stepped out briefly, at my request, because for some strange reason I wanted privacy during this part of the appointment. Over the course of the appointment, I had started to warm up to my doctor. She was young, knowledgeable, and had a good sense of humor. We talked about all of the great restaurants that there are in Bayview, near to our home, and talked about all of the great shopping that there is around my office in Brookfield. The pelvic exam went without incident, and Aaron was called back into the room for the ultrasound.

Aaron and I watched the screen intently, not really knowing what we were looking at, and there was silence in the room for several seconds. Then the doctor said, "Huh." Several more seconds of silence, and then, "I don't see anything inside your uterus." She said it like she was saying, "Huh, I didn't think it was supposed to rain today," or, "Huh, I thought I put my car keys in my purse." Just a tone of mild surprise and wonder.

I closed my eyes, and my stomach dropped. I grabbed Aaron's hand.

Please, look harder, I thought. And she did. She looked harder, showed Aaron and me both of my ovaries, my cervix, and my empty uterus. She showed us where the baby should be, and all that we could see was nothing. Everything looked perfectly normal, except for the fact that our baby was gone. She mentioned a slight dilation of something, and I wish now that I had the presence of mind to ask her what she meant, but I didn't, so that comment remains a mystery. I remember being slightly conscious of the sound of Aaron shifting his weight back and forth on his legs and chewing his gum faster and faster.

All that I could think of at that moment was Aaron. No one deserves to be a dad more than this man. He has loved and accepted Grace as his own daughter, he is a good, good man, he DESERVES this baby. God, I know I have screwed up in my life and if you want to punish me, fine, but DO NOT punish Aaron. Please, God. I couldn't even bear to look at his face, because the disappointment and sadness that I knew I would see in his expression would have been enough to make me lose my shit.

The doctor stood up and told us that there were three possibilities to explain what we saw, or rather, what we didn't see. The first possibility was that this was a normal pregnancy but our dates were off and I wasn't as far along as I had thought. This was a remote possibility because I hadn't had a period for eight weeks and I'm healthy and have relatively regular cycles. The second possibility was that this was a tubal pregnancy and that the doctor was unable to see anything because the ultrasound machine she was using was not super high-tech and she didn't have a good view of my tubes. Again, this was not a very probable explanation, because if my pregnancy was ectopic, chances are that I would have had bleeding or some strong pain by now, and I hadn't had either. The final, most probable explanation was that I had had an early miscarriage and it was just starting so I hadn't had any symptoms yet. The doctor told me that she would order some additional tests on the blood that I had taken earlier in the afternoon and that she would call us that night with the results. If my hCG level was 2000 or more, she would order another ultrasound for the next day at the hospital and take a closer look. If the level was less than 2000, she would have me come back every couple of days for repeat blood tests to follow the levels. Either way, she said, this was most likely not a normal pregnancy and we are losing the baby. Then she apologized because her staff gave us the parenting binder earlier and said that she wished they could have done the ultrasound first.

No shit.

The doctor told us to take as much time as we needed, and left the room. We sat there for a long time, and I let myself cry for a while, and Aaron cried, too. After a few minutes, I realized that we needed to pick Grace up from day care and briefly thought that exactly four years ago, at that moment, I was receiving a call from my obstetrician in Oshkosh telling me that they would be inducing my labor the next day because my blood pressure was too high. Four years after hearing the exciting news that I would be meeting my first baby in less than 24 hours, I learn that my second baby is gone.

Aaron offered to pick Grace up, since I was a mess, and I headed for home. As soon as I arrived, I quickly jumped on Google to look up miscarriage and tubal pregnancies, but soon lost the strength to read the information. I sobbed and sobbed, and then I heard Aaron's truck pull in the driveway. I pulled myself together as best as I could, and got ready to put on a happy face for Gracie. She came in the door and immediately gave me a big hug--Aaron had told her in the car on the way home that Mommy was sad and needed a hug. This was not the first time in my child's life that she has been an immense comfort to me. Seeing her took the edge off of my grief.

I made a call to my parents to tell them what was happening and promised them that I would call back as soon as I heard back from the doctor. I went through the rest of our nightly routine as best as I could, and put Gracie to bed. Just as she was falling asleep the doctor called. She told me that my level of hCG was near zero, and that (thankfully) ruled out a tubal pregnancy. She told me that what was happening was that I had an early miscarriage and that many women in my case would not have even known that they were pregnant, but I took the pregnancy test early enough for the little hormone that I was producing to register. She apologized, told me that there was nothing that we could do, and told me that I should expect to start bleeding and passing tissue over the next week or so (she said she was actually surprised that I hadn't started bleeding yet). She said that the pregnancy was young enough that I should miscarry without any complication, so there shouldn't be any intervention (such as a D&C) needed. She told me to make an appointment to follow up with her in the next couple of weeks and that if I hadn't completed the miscarriage by then, she would give me some medicine to help it along.

So, now we are waiting. Waiting for the end of all of this. My doctor made it seem as though passing the remains of the baby was going to be a bloody and painful process, but after doing some research on my own and talking with some people who know something about this, it's possible that my body absorbed the tissue and that I won't actually need to pass it. I guess that remains to be seen. My appointment is a week from today and as I said, if I haven't at least started spotting by then, my doctor will give me the medicine to help things along.

I am numb. I am devastated. This is quite possibly one of the most difficult things that I have had to face and I'm not sure what to do to make it better. I know that I wasn't pregnant for very long, but we HAD a baby, and now it's gone, and I am grieving. We are grieving.

Happy Birthday Grace

I have heard stories from many moms who say that it took them a while to fall in love with their babies. I consider myself among the luckiest of the lucky--I fell in love with you from the moment I first laid eyes on your perfect little face, and the grip you have on my heart has tightened with each passing day.

You're not a baby anymore...you're a little girl, full of your own personality and verve.
You have the best sense of humor...you make me laugh out loud every single day with the things you say and do.
You're caring...you truly care about people around you, and you show it. You give hugs when someone looks sad. You give little "presents" to make people feel better. You want those around you to feel happy I didn't think a small child was capable of showing such compassion, but you have proven me wrong.
You're smart...you continue to amaze me with the things that you know and you just keep soaking up information, and you look for opportunities to learn. You ask questions and you truly WANT to know the answers.
You're my favorite little snuggle bug...I sincerely look forward to having a chance to snuggle with you each night on the couch, smelling your hair and nuzzling your perfect skin, and I love the little hugs and kisses that you give me every day.
You're fun...I cherish our "girl time", when it's just you and me, just hanging out or shopping or playing. I love chatting with you about how our days went and life in general, just because you're my most wonderful little friend.
You're strong...you and I have been through lots of changes this year--we moved to a new house in a new city, you started at a new day care, we added Aarie to our little family--yet you have consistently shown me that you can go with the flow and you have adjusted beautifully. I am so proud of you.

Four years ago today, my life changed forever. Thank you, Gracie, for bringing me more happiness and love than I could have ever imagined. Happy birthday princess.

Ay, me siento bien feo.

What we have here is a classic case of "Be careful what you wish for..."

I mentioned in an earlier post that I have been troubled recently by the fact that this pregnancy has been relatively symptom-free, and given the fact that my first pregnancy was fraught with every symptom in the book, I joked that I wished I could puke my guts out, just once, so I could feel like this pregnancy is a normal one. Well, today, I got my wish and then some. We had spent last night with my in-laws, since they had a big family get-together/fishing derby for the holiday weekend, and bright and early this morning, I proceeded to puke my guts out. Not once, not twice, but SEVERAL times. The nauseousness was so bad that it woke me up out of a sound sleep and had me sprinting to the bathroom every ten minutes or so, until the contents of my stomach were thoroughly emptied.

Naturally, since I am not a quiet puker by any stretch of the imagination, the whole house was privy to what was happening, including Grace, who, when I told her that sometimes mommies get sick when they have babies in their bellies, decided that the baby was being naughty and needed a time out. I had to agree with her.

So, my in-laws gave me some kind words of encouragement and sent us along on our way home, armed with plastic bags in case I had to heave and we couldn't pull over in time, and we commenced the longest, most uncomfortable three-hour ride home in my life. I managed not to hurl at all until we returned home, thankfully, but after a full day on the couch and only eating a few saltine crackers and sipping on room-temperature water, I feel like crap. My back hurts, my butt hurts, my legs and hips are killing me and I feel like I am on the verge of chuffing again at any moment. Ugh.

Fortunately, I go to the doctor tomorrow, so we will see if she has any words of wisdom for me. I am seriously hoping that the sickness is transient this time, and that I am not sick for 95% of my pregnancy like I was with Grace. Like I told Aaron, I just don't feel mentally prepared for another pregnancy like that.

It is soooo on.

Aaron showed me a photo today on Pitchfork that brought me much delight.


It's a picture of my fav band in the whole wide world, the Decemberists! (mmmmm...Colin Meloy on the far left...). Oh yeah, and Barack Obama is in the middle.

((angels singing))

This photo was posted on Pitchfork and was taken at an Obama rally that took place recently in Portland. This rally hauled in over 75,000 spectators, which blows away Obama's previous rally record of 35,000. Man, I would have loved to be able to attend that event.

Anyway, the thing that inspired me to write about this at 10pm on a school night is the actual article that went along with this photo. You can read it in its entirety here, but basically the article talks about how some Conservatives are downplaying the enormity of this event, stating that "The assumption here, of course, is that the Decemberists played a significant part in enticing those 75,000 people out to that lovely park on that sunny spring day, and that the Times and other "liberally biased" media outlets somehow conspired to ignore the band's presence in order to make Obama look better."

Amusing.

And then, at the end of the article, there is a reference to a piece on the obviously conservative site The Campaign Spot that suggests that the Decemberists are nothing more than a bunch of Communists.

Oh no you didn't. I know you didn't just call my favorite band in the world, a talented group of musicians whose music speaks to my soul a bunch of Commies. I know you didn't do that.

I could go on and on about how this is just another instance of Conservatives tossing around words that evoke negative reactions and emotions for some in order to frighten those people into their movement. Here is their logic: Barack Obama had this group of Commies open for him at his rally, so by default, he must be ONE OF THEM too. But, I won't get too high up on that soap box right now.

But, you picked on my band. I am shaking my fist at you. It is sooooo on.

Feeling Fine

Here's the reason why I have been flipping my shizzy about this pregnancy: I feel great. Other than feeling a little bit tired, having the short bout with cramps, not really feeling like eating much of anything at all, and having some aches in my abdomen after toting Grace around more than I should have this weekend, I feel like regular ol', non-pregnant Sara. Not even my prenatal vitamins are making me sick! I guess I wouldn't be as concerned about feeling as good as I do if I hadn't had such a HORRIBLE pregnancy the first time. When I was pregnant with Grace, I was sick from about week six all the way up until about five hours before I delivered her, and I had just about every other pregnancy symptom in the book, from achy boobs to heartburn to weird food cravings. Well, if my calculations are right and we conceived when I think we did (it's hard to know, since all of the ovulations I took over the course of two weeks in April came back negative and I have no clue when I actually ovulated), I am six weeks along and I feel...great. This should be a good thing, no?

I was actually hoping that my trip to the dentist this afternoon would get my queasiness started, just so I could have a little reassurance. But there I laid, with the dentist elbow deep in my mouth (God, I hate going to the dentist) and the hygienist sucking out my gums with that gross sucker thing and I didn't feel even the slightest bit nauseous. Not even a little gag. Nothing, except for my sweaty back and tense neck muscles that can be traced back to the four syringes full of anesthetic it took to numb my mouth and mascara streaks on my cheeks from when the drilling started and the dentist realized, probably because of my groaning and eventual crying, that he needed to give me EVEN MORE anesthetic. (This is coming from a woman who gave birth without an epidural willingly--this is how much I hate dental work. But that's another story.)

This may be the first time in my life that I have wanted to puke my guts out, just once.

I Need to Clean More

Life has been nutso lately, and my house cleaning has suffered greatly because of it. Over the last few days I have been getting more and more upset about the state of things and I vowed that this weekend, I'd set aside some time to get some serious cleaning done.

Tonight, after a trip to Target to buy a gift for a birthday party that Grace is attending tomorrow, I found a rare, quiet moment to get some quick preliminary cleaning done. Aaron decided to run to the grocery store and Grace was busily working on a new puzzle, so I decided to pick up our living room a bit. Our coffee table had become a landing pad for mail, Grace's art supplies, books, and DVD's. I managed to go through all of the mail and put all of the other stuff away, and I was so proud of myself. In fact, I did such a good job that Grace exclaimed, "Hey! We got a new coffee table! It's so clean!"

Nope, kiddo, that's the same one we've had for months. You just don't recognize it without all of the junk on top of it.

Toothy

Today I chipped a tooth while eating some crackers at work. These were just your average, run-of-the-mill, Wheat Thin-type crackers...not even something extra crunchy like Melba toast. I was just happily chomping away, trying to rid myself of the mid-morning munchies, and CRUNCH--a rather large chunk of my tooth was gone. Luckily, I didn't realize what had happened till a few seconds later so I didn't notice it when I swallowed the newly chipped part of my tooth along with cracker bits. Also, luckily enough, the affected tooth is not one of my front teeth. Actually, it's a lower tooth towards the back of my mouth, so the only person it's noticeable to is me, and the only time I really notice it is when my tongue rubs up against the sharp point left at the top of my tooth where the chippage occurred.

I showed my tooth to Aaron tonight and his exact words were, "Oh my GOD! When are you going to the dentist?!?" Sadly, the receptionist at our family dentist's office couldn't be bothered to find me an appointment any sooner than next Monday. I guess missing a chunk-o-tooth doesn't rank you high enough on their triage list to warrant a same-day appointment.

************************************************
I guess today is the day for apathetic health care providers. I have been having some moderate cramping over the past 24 hours or so, and although I know some cramping is normal in early pregnancy, I decided to call my doctor just to see if this is something to be concerned about. I mean, these aren't debilitating cramps and I haven't experienced any spotting or anything. It just seriously still feels like I'm going to be getting my period any second, even though I am 14 days late and have had two positive pregnancy tests. I'm a little concerned.

I called my new doctor's office and asked to speak with her nurse. I have never been in to see this doctor since this is my first need for an OB in Milwaukee and I haven't hadn't had my first prenatal visit yet, so this was also my first experience with this office's triage nurses. I explained my concerns the nurse and she pulled up my file. Here's a relatively accurate replay of our conversation:

Nurse: So this is your second pregnancy?

Me: Yep, sure is.

Nurse: Did you have cramping with your first pregnancy?

Me: Not that I recall, but it was four years ago and I'm a little hazy on the details.

Nurse: Are you spotting?

Me: Nope.

Nurse: How severe is the pain on a scale of one to ten?

Me: Probably a three or a four.

Nurse: Well, cramping is relatively common in early pregnancy. Call us back if you have any spotting. Is that all?

Me: Um, yes?

Nurse: Have a good day. (click)

Ok, yes, I know from my zillion Google searches of "cramping" and "early pregnancy" that some cramping is normal during pregnancy. I know that these nurses probably get this same call several times a day. But, a little more reassurance or possibly the offer of a blood test or something might have gone a long way to calm my fears. Seriously, whose idea was it to wait until a woman is in her eighth or ninth week of pregnancy for an initial prenatal visit? I know I could have been a little more assertive and asked for an appointment and just a quick check, but I was so stunned by this woman's lack of concern that I was rendered speechless. I'm sure that I am just being overly sensitive and that things are fine, but if things aren't, am I supposed to just sit here and wait until something happens? Ugh, ugh, UGH!

I don't know. I'm a little concerned about what will happen for the rest of my pregnancy if this is how the phone nurses react to my concerns. I am the type that will call in when something is bothering me and if I am met with this type of treatment each time, the time it will take from me to go from quiet, happy patient to screaming, nightmare patient will be able to be measured with an egg timer. I'm gonna give them one more shot. If the cramping continues or get worse, I'm calling back and asking for an appointment. If I get the same treatment, I'm out.

Holy. Crap.

It's been an interesting couple of weeks. Here's why:

Yep, that's two blue lines...the control line on the right, and the test line on the left. Yeah, the test line is fainter than the control line, but it's definitely there. Believe me...I have stared at this stick from every possible angle. This is actually the third test I took. Here's the first:

Obviously this picture was taken before Aaron gave me a tutorial on how to use the close up function on my camera. Anyway, the two options on this test are either "Not Pregnant" and "Pregnant" and since the display only contains one word, you can guess at the result even though the picture is fuzzy.

The second test I took was negative. Yeah, I don't know either.

So, if the first and third tests are to be believed, I am pregnant. The news was actually quite shocking to me, since we *technically* weren't even trying to conceive this month. And, I am still feeling quite crampy and I feel more premenstrual than I do pregnant. (Although the cramps are slightly different in nature than period cramps...right now I have more of a dull burning pain than crampy pain. It's weird.) And, the fact that I had that negative test puts some fear and doubt into my head. But, after doing tons of research on false negatives and false positives and after contacting the customer service hot line (twice) for the manufacturer of the digital test I took, I'm starting to let myself believe that it's true--that I am pregnant.

Holy crap.

**Update: I actually wrote this post more than a week ago, but Aaron and I decided to wait to post it till I was actually, sufficiently, late. I am now 12 days late, so I consider that sufficient. So, according to the zillion due date calculators that I have used online, my due date falls anywhere between January 6th and 9th. Although if my first pregnancy is any indication, I'll be a couple of weeks early, so we might have a Christmas baby on our hands. Keep your fingers crossed for me...it's still quite early in the game and I have another 3 weeks before my doctor's appointment, so hopefully all is well.

Yay Spring!!

Grace is a big fan of the warmer weather, and I am finding that each Spring is getting more and more fun with her. For Christmas this year, Santa brought Gracie a new "big girl" bike--her first real bike with training wheels. This evening before supper, we tried it out:

She's getting the hang of it, but she's still working on the whole braking concept.

One of Grace's other favorite thing to do outside is to get her sidewalk chalk and draw all over the driveway. Tonight, she told me that she wanted to draw The Red Store (our family's name for Target). Behold the power of branding:

Yep, that's Grace's rendering of the Target logo. The marketing is not lost on an almost-four-year-old.

The other thing Grace loves about Spring is...ice cream!!!

Yay Spring!!

Meeting Colin on His Vast Veranda

So, I know my last post was rather heavy, and my mood has improved since then, mostly because my husband took me to see Colin Meloy, the lead singer of the Decemberists (he's on a solo tour), last night in Milwaukee. I love Colin, and thank goodness Aaron is man enough to watch his wife drool her way through a 90-minute concert. Some images:

Mmmm..
Sing it baby...

He *says* he's singing about his girlfriend, but I KNOW he is singing about the girl sitting in row L, seat 8 (that would be me)...
Ok, I'm done.

Sacrifice

Not the Aztec kind, in which a warrior's still-beating heart is ripped out of his chest to pacify the gods of rain...

I'm talking about the kind in which a working mom's heart is, metaphorically speaking, ripped out of her chest to pacify the corporate gods...

Does every mom who works outside of the house go through this? Recently, I was offered a new promotion at work, and along with the (little bit of) extra money and snazzy new title comes a whole shit-ton of extra work. Hour-long lunches are a distant memory. Two Saturday mornings a month are spent at work rather than at home snuggling with my kiddo. Sneaking out of work a couple minutes early to savor a few extra moments in the evening with the family is out of the question. Nights spent watching toons with Gracie are less frequent than nights I spend in front of the computer running reports.

What does a mom do when she HAS to work outside of the home? She works, and she does the best she can, and because of that, she is recognized and rewarded with a promotion. And then she suffers, because her real, most important job suffers.

Sacrifice means different things for different people. In the corporate world, you sacrifice precious family time to go above and beyond at work. It's just expected of you. You miss out on Saturday morning cartoons and donuts so you can make money for The Company. You drag yourself around, exhausted and dazed and frustrated, just to do it all again tomorrow. And, your heart breaks when your baby wakes up in the morning, hoping she will maybe get to spend the day with you, and you have to tell her, "Mommy has to work again today."

Or, you don't work or don't take the promotion and you sacrifice all of the extra stuff that you're used to. The new clothes. The vacations. The new lap top. The concerts. All of the fun stuff that you couldn't afford if you didn't work. Is that stuff all that important? I don't think it is...

I talk to working moms all the time that tell me they LOVE to work and travel and hang with the boys and I wonder if I have an unhealthy attachment to my child. Is it abnormal for me to want to spend at least half of my time with her? I'm starting to wonder if it is.

I think I know what I need to do, but I am afraid. Afraid if I turn down the promotion, I will lose respect among my coworkers, and worse, my job. Wondering if I should suck it up and soldier on. Deciding which sacrifice will be less painful and hoping I have the balls to make the right decision.

Reception=Awesome

Our reception weekend can probably be summed up in one word, especially since we included a brewery tour in our festivities, and the reception was at a brewery in Brew City:

Beer.


More pictures to come very soon!

A Rare Moment of Calm

This morning, the day before The Reception, on the way home from my last spray tanning session before the big party (no UV for this girl, no way)...

Driving past the school that Gracie will be attending in the fall, watching parents walking their children into school, seeing smiling faces and excitement, and imagining how it will be dropping my baby off on her first day of school, all smiles and excitement...

Watching a plane take off over our house and thinking to myself, "It will all be ok when I fly in a couple of weeks. I know it will. So just chill out." And really knowing, for a few moments anyway, that things WILL be ok.

Walking into my quiet house this morning, seeing all of our wedding favors ready to go, remembering how Aaron had a plan for how to get everything ready for the reception, stress-free, knowing that--even though he didn't say it out loud--he made that plan for me because he loves me and doesn't want me to feel overwhelmed, and feeling SO excited that tomorrow night I get another chance to celebrate our wedding and the deep, all-encompassing love that I feel for my husband.

Sitting here, anticipating seeing my beloved family and friends tomorrow, tearing up at the thought of seeing my grandparents again after many months, and feeling so blessed that it's almost beyond words.

Math vs. Magic

This morning, Grace and I had our very first subtraction lesson. Grace knows that I pack two cookies in her lunch for school, and this morning, she asked if she could have two cookies for breakfast. Knowing that she would be eating breakfast at school in less than 30 minutes and not wanting to condone cookie eating for breakfast, I decided to argue that if she had her cookies right then, she wouldn’t have any left for lunch. Being the clever kid that she is, Grace then asked if she could have just one cookie right now, but the problem was that she thought that if she had one for breakfast, she would still have two left for lunch.

So, I attempted some math with her. I told her that if she has two cookies and she takes one away, she will only have one left. I even used some toys that were on the coffee table to illustrate my point. She thought about this for a moment and told me that I was wrong, and that she WOULD still have two cookies at lunch even if she had one for breakfast. Hmm. I asked her how this could happen, and she looked at me like I had two heads and said, “It’s magic, Mama.”

Can’t argue with that, I guess. At this point, I used my mighty powers of redirection and got her interested in some pop tarts instead.

**********************************
So, we are at T minus 4 days until our reception, and the diet has gone just ok. I’ve managed to lose a few pounds over the past couple of weeks, and after discovering some very tasty and satisfying fiber bars at Target that I can snack on during the day (gotta love Target), I’ve been on the straight and narrow this week so far. (The only downside of these bars is that they are SO loaded with fiber that if you eat too many, you end up with some major intestinal problems later in the evening. Trust me…I found this out the hard way.) I’m hoping to lose a couple more pounds before Saturday so I don’t feel like a sausage in my wedding dress. Although, come to think of it, feeling like a sausage would fit in well with the German-style buffet that we’re serving at the reception.

And, I'm considering it a bad thing that I spent most of the afternoon at work today, during down time, munching on chocolate and listening to sappy Chicago songs. The stress must be getting to me...

"Just say you'll love me for the rest of my life..."

Pulled In a Million Directions

My blogging has been suffering as of late, mostly because I have been so busy with a full time job that has suddenly evolved into an almost 55-hour per week job, final preparations for our wedding reception that's coming up in a week (gasp!), and the normal day-to-day duties of motherhood and wifedom (both of which could qualify as full time jobs in and of themselves). I feel as though I am being pulled in a million directions and at the end of the day, there's not much left of me to go around--so much so that a couple of nights ago when I found a spare minute to check my Facebook account, I put my head in my hands and started to cry because I had all of these messages from my friends that I haven't had a chance to answer. So, needless to say, I don't have the abundant time that I once had to be able to sit down and write a decent, well thought out, blog entry. Sorry. I am hoping things calm down a bit once the reception is over and I have a chance to breathe. We'll see.

Anyway, a few random happenings from this week that I found to be noteworthy:

-Today while I was standing in line at my local BP station paying for my gas and cursing Big Oil, a rather attractive man that was behind me in line asked me if I drive the Lexus that was parked outside in the parking lot. I looked at him, bewildered, said, "Um, no, I drive a Saturn," and he smiled and said, "Oh, you look like the Lexus type." What the hell does that mean? Was that a compliment? Was it a come-on (and a rather lame one at that)? Eh, either way, I guess it's all right that I at least look as though I have enough money to be driving a Lexus around. Apparently the gentleman didn't notice that I was wearing a second hand jacket that was stained with something that Grace ate weeks ago or didn't hear me complaining to the cashier about gas prices while digging through my wallet for pennies to make exact change.

-Apparently I have earned the reputation for being a tyrant at home. Last night when I was rushing home from work to pick Grace up and whisk her off to swimming class, I called Aaron and asked him to have Grace fed and ready to go by the time I got home so we could leave right away and make it to swimming in time. When I finally made it home spotted Grace on the couch finishing her supper, she burst into tears for no apparent reason as soon as she saw me. After calming her down and asking her what happened, she blubbered, "Aarie said you were going to be mad at BOTH of us if I didn't finish my supper!!!" Well, I wasn't mad at Grace, that's for sure. At least I can chuckle about it now.

-Looks like I'm going on another business trip in a couple of weeks (this time to Hagerstown, MD), and I'm gonna have to fly. Ugh. I booked my trip today with my boss, who is coming with me, and instead of having my choice and flying on Midwest nonstop from Milwaukee to Baltimore, we're flying Northwest out of Milwaukee with a stop in Detroit. Double ugh. For those of you who don't know, I am an EXTREMELY nervous flyer. The trip is more than two weeks off and I have already launched into panic mode. I'm trying to talk myself down off of the edge by reminding myself about how safe I will be and how quickly the trip will go by, but hearing recent news of airlines cancelling flights due to safety concerns certainly isn't helping matters. I think I will definitely try to take some sort of anti-anxiety medicine when I fly this time--I have resisted it in the past, because I have been traveling with Grace or for other reasons, but I think that this time I'm gonna go for it and see if I'm able to be calmer.

-The big news in Milwaukee is a measles outbreak that has occured among three children that attend the same day care on the south side of town. These children have not received the MMR vaccine or were too young to have been vaccinated. Concern is such that the city of Milwaukee is holding vaccine clinics for people to vaccinate themselves if they haven't already done so. When Grace was younger and we went through her first several series of childhood vaccinations, I was well aware of the claim that vaccinating your child can heighten their risk of autism, and I, like many parents, had my doubts about taking the chance and letting our pediatrician inject her with all of this stuff. I was listening to Larry King Live last week, and Jenny McCarthy was on the program, talking about her autistic son and arguing that his vaccinations were part of the reason that his autism emerged. She said something that stuck with me. She said that parents would much rather have their children contract measles than live with autism. I don't know. Obviously, no parent would want their child to have either affliction, but would I ever let the fear of the possibility of having an autistic child trump the idea that I should safeguard my child against potentially deadly diseases? I wonder if the parents of these three Milwaukee children who now have the measles wish they had decided to vaccinate their children. I know that I am breathing a sigh of relief knowing Grace has been vaccinated.

-Where in the hell is Spring? Seriously. I am so ready.

Sweet Home Wisconsin

Well, I am back home from my trip to Tennessee, and I gotta say, it's great to be back. It was surprising how much I missed Grace and Aaron--sure, I knew I would miss them, but I didn't know that I would MISS them. By the time I got home really late on Wednesday night (actually, early Thursday morning), all I could think of was snuggling up with a sleeping Aaron and surprising Grace when she woke up in the morning. Good stuff. And, as soon as Grace woke up in the morning and noticed that I was home, she jumped out of bed and ran over and gave me a bear hug. This is the child that normally rouses in the morning at a snail's pace and is grumpy for a good half hour or so after waking up. I guess she missed me, too.

One thing I learned on the trip: I need to get over my fear of flying. I decided to drive to Tennessee when I found out that it really wasn't THAT far and justified it by telling myself that road trips are totally cool and that this would be a fun adventure for me. Well, it was really THAT far and road trips are only fun when you can share them with someone (and, when you can share the driving with someone). Next time I have to go on a business trip (which will be later this month), I'll take some Valium, suck it up, and fly.

In other news, Grace has officially graduated from her parent and child swimming class and last night, she started a child-only class. She wasn't overly receptive to the idea of being in the pool without me, so to help her get used to it a bit, I took her to the pool about a half hour before her class started and told her I could stay in the pool with her for a while. When it was time for her class, I got out of the pool and Grace started looking a little sheepish, sucking on her fingers and slouching down (Grace's non verbal ways of saying "I'm scared"). I sat close to the pool with her until her teacher took over, and soon, she was splashing around with the other kids, laughing and having a grand ol' time. She did well in class, except when it came to bobbing in the water. The kid doesn't like getting her face wet, and certainly that will become an issue when she really starts learning to swim. And, she didn't do a great job of keeping one hand on the pool wall while the teacher was working individually with other kids. (The teacher kept yelling at the kids to stay at the wall and not splash each other. That killed me...these are preschoolers. Yeah, right lady.) But, all and all, I think she'll do just fine in this class.

Hey Y'all

So, I know I have neglected my blog for the past few days, but that's only because I'm kickin' it southern style in Tennessee.

Ok, that sounds a lot more fun and interesting than what is actually going on. Actually, I am in Johnson City, TN on a business trip. I drove from Milwaukee down to Tennessee, and here are some observations from my trip:

-I am not nearly as young and nimble as I used to be and therefore road trips are no longer as fun as they used to be. When I arrived at my destination last night after a 12-hour drive (stupid Chicago traffic), my back was aching, my butt was hurting, my legs were cramping, and I was just about in tears.

-On the way through Gary, IN, I noted a sign on the side of the road that said, "HELL IS REAL." Yes it is, and it's located in Gary, IN. Sorry, folks, if any of you live there or are from there or have family there. I can't think of a place that is more dreary and reminisent of the "gray ash heaps" that F. Scott Fitzgerald talks about in The Great Gatsby. Again, sorry--I only saw the part of the city that's right around the interstate, but it was pretty sad.

-Even though I have an entire king sized bed to myself in my palacial hotel room, I still sleep on the same side of the bed that I do when at home in my queen sized bed with my hubby. I didn't venture over to the other side of the bed at all last night.

-Room service rocks. So does expensing your employer for your room service usage.

-Even though I am enjoying a leisurely breakfast, savoring a good cup of coffee, and watching CNN uninterrupted, I would much rather be at home rushing through my breakfast, taking my coffee to go, and watching "Pee Wee's Playhouse".

Dieting Doldrums

I’m on a diet again. Our wedding reception is coming up in less than four weeks, and Sunday after our Easter lunch, I tried on my wedding dress to see how it fit after last putting it on almost six months ago. Not sure why I chose to stuff myself into the dress after eating a large meal which included ham, mashed potatoes, and other carbohydrate- and fat-loaded dishes…I guess I’m glutton for punishment. Suffice it to say, we barely managed to get the dress zipped and when we did, I was SPILLING out of it. Boob fat and back fat galore, I tell ya. And, I attempted to sit down while wearing the dress and was unable to do so without feeling as though my internal organs were screaming, “STOP! YOU’RE KILLING US!” And, the really bad thing was that I was wearing all of my fat-holding-in and shaping underthings and I was STILL so uncomfortable.

So, I started the diet on Monday, and already I am finding it difficult to stay disciplined enough to lose any weight. I’ve been thinking about why it is so hard to diet and lose weight right now, and here is my list of (poor) excuses:

-Christ has risen from the dead. Seriously, who paired Easter with jelly beans, chocolate, and huge carb-filled meals? I’m sure the tradition of giving candy and feasting on Easter got started a hundred years ago by some tribe somewhere, but I’m not interested enough to research it. What I do know is that even though I shouldn’t be, I have been sitting on my couch every night this week nibbling on the solid white chocolate sheep that Aaron gave me for Easter, simply because it’s there and it’s tasty. Let’s not even talk about sneaking jelly beans and mini Cadbury eggs.

-I came off birth control last month, and as a result, my hormones are totally out of control. I’m pimply, cranky, bloated, and ravenously hungry. It’s pretty difficult for me to choose to eat something like a salad or pretzels when I really am craving pizza or cheese puffs.

-Very important business trip coming up in five days. I am leaving for a business trip on Monday and I am told that the people that I will be meeting with in Tennessee are big eaters and big drinkers. Oh good. Just what I need!

-Exposure to really stupid people makes me cranky and thus (since I am an emotional eater), hungry. I spend a good portion of my work day looking at resumes and interviewing people, and it is shocking to me how many people either don’t know or don’t care about how they present themselves to prospective employers. Every time I come across someone emailing me a resume from an email address like xxxbigassmama6969@....com or I contact a candidate and am confronted with a vulgar voicemail greeting like, “Wazz up playas? This is (name). Leave me your number and I’ll think about calling y’all mo-fo’s back. Holla,” or interview someone and listen to them call their former boss a prick, it makes me sad about the state of things. Seriously people—you’re applying for a job. At least attempt some professionalism.

-The dose of my thyroid medication has been lowered. A few years ago, I had some thyroid problems and as a result, I was placed on a thyroid hormone replacement medication because my thyroid had completely crapped out. One good side effect of the medication is that losing weight has been a little easier for me. In fact, over the last year or so, I have been able to eat pretty much as I pleased and not gain weight. Actually, I kept losing weight. Well, late last year, I started experiencing chest pain and heart palpitations, and one of the reasons why was because the dose of my thyroid medicine was too high (this was why I kept losing weight without any effort). So, my doctor said, “Party’s over, sister,” lowered my dosage of medication, and I packed on five pounds almost instantly. And now, it’s quite difficult to lose weight, even if I do eat responsibly. I used to think people that used thyroid problems as an excuse for gaining weight were crazy. Now I believe them, and I am being punished for thinking otherwise.

-I am a wuss and succumb to peer pressure easily. Here at work, most of my colleagues love to eat as much as I do, so when someone suggests ordering lunch from Noodles and Company or Panera, it’s hard for me to say no and eat my Smart Ones frozen dinner whilst smelling other peoples’ tasty lunches. I’m like Ado Annie from “Oklahoma”. I’m just a girl who can’t say no.

-I have a general aversion to diets and feeling hungry in general. ‘Nuff said.

After saying all of this, I want to make it clear that I am still going to TRY MY HARDEST to lose some weight before our reception (my goal is five to ten pounds). I’m starting a walking regimen with a lovely coworker who is also trying to lose weight, and I hope that will help. I do want to look as good in my wedding dress on our reception day as I did on our wedding day. I want to be able to sit down during the reception and not hear the seams on the dress popping. I want to boogie till midnight and not worry about what may be popping out the side of my dress. So, dear readers, please send good thoughts my way. Lord knows I could use them!

Hottie Hubby and The Spring Psych-Out

So, my hubby is talking on the phone right now to one of this co-workers as he is doing some after hours work at home, and I am listening to him talk about portals and secure sites and all kinds of other computer stuff that is way over my head. Is it odd that I find him incredibly sexy right now? Can't wait till he's done with work...I've always been a sucker for the nerdy dudes.

*****************************

Today is the first day of Spring, and appropriately, today is also the first day this year that I have woken up and heard birds chirping outside our bedroom window. It was a nice thing to hear, especially since the days have been warmer lately and thoughts of warm, sunny days and green grass are on the brain. Then, I remembered that we are supposed to get five to ten inches of snow tomorrow, and I felt sorry for those birds. They should know better than to start chirping any sooner than, like, the middle of April, at least here in Wisconsin.

Breaking Tradition

Don’t get me wrong…I love a huge gathering with extended family on a holiday as much as the next person, but for Easter this year, I lobbied hard to have a small, quiet get-together at our house. This was an uncharacteristic move for me; I love getting together with all of my aunts and uncles and cousins (as well as all of my husband’s family) during a holiday. Maybe I had a change of heart on this particular holiday because Grace has gotten sick on every Easter since she has been alive (on her first and second Easters she came down with nasty cases of rotavirus and last Easter she came down with a bad cold) and subconsciously I am hoping that maybe by changing things up this year and skipping the large family gatherings, we can keep her healthy. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I feel like we spent Christmas rushing around the state like mad people, trying to cram in as much time with our respective families as we were able to while wishing we could just relax and enjoy the season. Perhaps it’s because now that I have a family of my own, I want to make our own traditions every now and then instead of participating in other peoples’ traditions. Whatever the reason, the thought of traveling (and we do have to travel, since we live in a different part of the state than our families) to visit our extended families on Easter weekend really didn’t appeal to me. In fact, I was actually dreading all of the rushing around and began daydreaming about what it would be like to spend Easter at home—we could have an Easter egg hunt with Grace, attend a church service or mass of our choosing, and then go home and have a nice, leisurely meal in our jammies if we wanted to. We could invite our immediate families down to celebrate with us if they wanted to, but if they had other plans, that would be ok, too.

I knew I would get a little bit of resistance from the hubby on this new idea, because he loves spending time with family as much as I do (and, one of the reasons I love him as much as I do is because he places such a high value on family) and I knew that his extended family was planning a large gathering on Easter Sunday that he would want to attend. So, when I introduced my idea of staying home on Easter, I was met with a little resistance, but after I explained my reasoning and repeated the phrase, “Just one holiday per year” several times, Aaron agreed to the thought as long as the three of us got to spend the morning alone and save our feast with the immediate families for the afternoon. No problem, says I.

So, this Easter, we’re breaking tradition and staying home and even though we are going to be preparing a meal for my parents and sister and brother-in-law (Aaron’s immediate family is attending the larger gathering), I am finding that I feel much less stressed out than I would be feeling if we were going to be going elsewhere for the holiday. And, I am very much looking forward to starting some new traditions with Aaron and Grace. Hopefully our new traditions won’t include any nasty viruses.

Back From Vacation

Well, we are back home from our vacation in Wisconsin Dells (with a stop to see my in-laws this weekend), and instead of giving you a written report of our trip, I thought some pictures would tell the story and might be a little more entertaining to look at.

We decided we needed a vacation since we were feeling like this most of the time:

So, we went to the Kalahari Resort in Wisconsin Dells, and stayed in a lovely, spacious room.

We slid down some HUGE waterslides (after some gentle coaxing),

did some kneeboarding in the Flowrider pool,

ate lots and lots of great pizza and other tasty treats,

smiled lots and lots because we were having such fun,

started to feel a little tired towards the end of the day,

and finally. went back to our cozy room to snooze till our heart's content.


The trip had a somewhat rocky start--the night before we left, Aaron had a fever of 102.8 and felt really crappy. When he still had a fever the next day, he went to the doctor and was diagnosed with the flu and I worried that he would be bed-ridden for the whole trip. But, after some much-needed rest, he was ready to go on day two of the trip. Needless to say, Grace and I were glad he was healthy again, and we had a blast!! All in all, we had a fantastic time, and we're looking forward to making this a yearly trip. It was a great way to spend a few days--Kalahari had tons of really fun, family-oriented stuff to offer, and the winter specials that the resort offers made the trip affordable (we were able to snag all kinds of coupons for free food and reduced rates on resort attractions). The indoor waterpark had plenty to offer for little ones and adults alike, and with the numerous restaurants and amenities on site, there really was no reason to leave the resort at all! I'd highly recommend the resort for a family vacation or even as a get-away for couples who love spending lots of time at the pool.

Goin' on Vacation

A few months back, I wrote a post about the get-away that Aaron, Grace, and I were going to be taking as part of the celebration of my momentous 30th birthday (turns out, actually, that my 30th birthday kinda just felt like another day). We had planned on taking a road trip to Green Valley, Arizona to visit my grandparents, who (wisely) spend their winters there. The idea was to drive cross country in the spirit of adventure and with the goal of introducing Grace to parts of the country that she has never seen. I am a huge fan of road trips and thought this would be a great way to spend some good quality time with my family.

Reason soon set in, though, and once Aaron and I sat down and calculated the cost of gas plus at least four nights in hotels (two nights on the way there and two on the way home) plus meals and other necessities, we would have spent about the same amount of money if we flew there. And, there was the nagging doubt in the back of my mind that spending 60 hours in the car with a three-year-old might not be a barrel of laughs. Initially, the thing that appealed most to me about a road trip to Arizona, aside from seeing my beloved grandparents who I miss terribly, was the adventure it would bring, and I was pretty certain that it would be a really cool adventure...or, it could turn out to be a royal pain in the ass. Finding out that my grandparents are coming home for our wedding reception in a month pretty much sealed the deal for me...we would postpone our Arizona trip until next year, when Gracie is a little older.

So, the question became, "What the heck are we going to do?" Aaron and I had initially floated the idea of going to Vegas, but we wouldn't be able to bring Grace along on a Vegas trip and frankly, I wanted her to be a part of things. (We'll get our child-free vacation in June when we go to Bonnaroo.) We brainstormed and came up with a short list of destinations that are relatively close to home, and we decided on taking a trip to Wisconsin Dells, where we will be staying at the Kalahari Resort and Waterpark. Since Grace is no longer terrified of the water--in fact, she loves being in the water so much that she eagerly looks forward to swim class each week--we decided that we're ready for the behemoth indoor waterpark experience. And, the fact that there are tons of activities to do at the Kalahari apart from the waterpark, including pottery classes for kids and massages for moms (ok, and for stepdads, too), was very attractive to us. Plus, we'll be in Wisconsin Dells, so even if we do get bored for some reason at the resort, there are tons of other things to do.

So, we leave tomorrow and we're totally stoked. A full report and pictures will be coming after we get home!!

Don't Mess With the Poppins -and- Defeating Lulu

A couple weekends ago, when Grace was spending some quality time with my parents, she was introduced to one of my all-time favorite movies: "Mary Poppins". She came home talking about the movie with the "pahck" (this totally cracks me up--she picked up on how the word "park" is pronounced in the movie, complete with the Cockney accent, and now this is her new funny) and the amazing merry-go-round horses that come off of the carousel and go galloping in the countryside. She loved the movie and couldn't wait to tell me all about it.

This was so exciting to me. "Mary Poppins" was one of my favorite movies as a child (and even as an adult), so knowing that Grace found it entertaining as well made me very happy. So naturally, I was really looking forward to the time when Grace and I could sit down together and watch it and talk about how cool everything was, and how Mama secretly has always wanted to be Mary Poppins herself. The only bad thing about all of this was that the only version of "Mary Poppins" that owned by my family is a grainy, VHS version that my parents taped when we had a free week of the Disney Channel like 20 years ago. Aside from being crappy in quality, our family's version of "Mary Poppins" also contains the annoying "To subscribe, please call 1-800-......." flashing across the bottom of the screen every few minutes.

So Aaron, being the thoughtful guy that he is, picked up a brand spanking new version of "Mary Poppins" at Best Buy a few days ago, and it has been playing nearly non-stop in our home since then. I have been able to finally watch one of my favorite flicks with my kid, and the whole experience has been totally wonderful.

Except for one glitch...tonight, while we were watching one of my favorite parts of the movie (the part where Mary and Bert and the children jump into the chalk drawing of the English countryside) I made the fatal error of singing along with "Jolly Holiday with Mary". Whoa. Big mistake. Grace looked at me with a face full of disgust and horror and said, "You don't sing with Mary Poppins, Mama. Now we have to start the song over. You don't sing again." And, she made me start the scene over again and promise her that I would NOT under any circumstances sing along with this song ever, ever again. I actually laughed out loud at how mad she got, and she immediately silenced me by saying with a furrowed brow, "I am not laughing."

Ok. Duly noted. Don't mess with the Poppins, especially if you want to finish the movie in under three hours.

*************************************

Tonight, instead of following our normal Friday night ritual of dragging an already-exhausted and cranky Grace out to dinner and inevitably ending the evening with at least one of us in frustrated tears, we decided to stay home and attempt to duplicate one of my favorite restaurant meals--chipotle chicken pitas with kettle chips and blue cheese sauce from Cafe Lulu. Mmmmmmmmmm. Aaron bought all of the ingredients on his way home from work tonight, and we eagerly set out to try and make the meal ourselves.

And we TOTALLY succeeded. Our kettle chips were way better than Lulu's...sometimes Lulu's chips have a slightly burned flavor to them, but ours, with Aaron gingerly tending to them as they bubbled along in the canola oil, turned out perfectly. And my version of the black bean salsa that is used to make the chipotle chicken pita was spot on, only missing a dash of lime juice and perhaps tasting a tad bit too salty.

All in all, it was a great meal, and the best part of it was that we enjoyed it in the comforts of our own dining room. And instead of ending the night wishing that we hadn't gone out at all, I am enjoying listening to Aaron and Grace putting together a puzzle and making up a song that goes, "We don't need that piece, UH!" I love staying home. I think we'll make it a Friday night tradition.

Eyebrows

Ok, I'm about to reveal one of my deepest, darkest secrets, so hold on to yer butts...my eyebrows are naturally almost totally white, so for most of my adult life, I have been shading them in with a brow pencil.

I feel so much better now.

So, tonight I went to this new hair salon in Brookfield to have my hair colored, and my stylist asked me, "Have you ever considered having your brows tinted?" Honestly, I have considered that at least once a day for the past several years, usually when I am standing in the mirror in the morning painstakingly trying to ensure that my penciling-in job is even and looks relatively natural. And, whenever I have my hair colored I always worry that my brows will be way too light.

All of you with nice, normal, dark eyebrows never knew you had it so good.

So, I said to my stylist, "What the hell? Go for it." And she did. And for the first time in my 30 years on this planet, I can actually distinguish my eyebrows from the rest of my face.

Here is what the top part of my face looks like with actual eyebrows.


Yeah, pretty shocking. Aaron didn't know I was having this done, so when I got home tonight, HIS eyebrows shot up in surprise and he said, "Wow. Your whole face looks different." And then he went out for a beer. I hope the two instances are not related.

I'm In Town Playing the Dolphins, You Dumbass

Oh, Brett, say it ain't so!

Well, there goes my whole motivation for watching football. Guess I'll have to go back to shopping and napping on Sunday afternoons in the fall. Sadly, my favorite quarterback and lifetime member of my Top Five Hotties list is retiring from the Packers. I was one of those people that wagered that he would be back for another season, especially after his stellar showing last season. But, sounds like Brett is just pooped and is going to enjoy some well-deserved time off.

Thanks for the great memories, Brett, and for the hilarious performance in "There's Something About Mary." I'll always love you. Sniff, sniff.

30

And so, I enter the fourth decade of my life…

Last weekend, Aaron and I were out on a date and at one very honest moment (read: I had just finished a Flirtini) during dinner, I looked at Aaron and asked, “Do you ever wonder what happened to you?” I had been wondering lately, especially as I approach my thirtieth birthday, what happened to the fun loving, free, crazy girl I used to be. I was the girl that didn’t think twice about going out on a Wednesday night. The girl who would pick up and go at a moment’s notice. The girl who didn’t obsess about things like bills and the cleanliness of my living space and making dentist appointments and laundry. The girl that slept till 11:00am on the weekends and stayed up all night.

What happened to me? As I talk to my single and childless friends about their lives and listen to their stories about all of their adventures, I can’t help but think about my social life, especially since a “big night” for me includes not falling asleep before 10:00pm and actually making it through an entire two-hour movie. Long gone are the days of dancing till 2:00am and traveling whenever I wanted to. Now, my days are mostly filled with work and parenting and trying to maintain my sanity.

Mine is a common tale. We go through our wild and crazy years in our teens and 20’s, and then one day, we become an adult. I’m not saying that becoming an adult automatically means that the fun is over…I guess I’m just realizing that it’s a different kind of fun. One night last week, I came home from work to find Aaron and Grace playing with puzzles in the living room and when I walked in, they invited me to join them. At that moment, there was not a single place on earth where I would have rather been. Tuesday night swimming classes with Gracie are the one of the highlights of my week, because I get to spend time with my daughter doing something she really enjoys. And, some of the most romantic moments in my house are when I watch Aaron comfort or reassure Grace, knowing in my heart that Grace will remember those feelings and will be able to depend on him.

So, since my conversation with Aaron last weekend, I have done some serious thinking and I have come to the conclusion that this IS me now. My life revolves around not myself and my whims, but around my family. My priorities have changed. I have grown up. I am comfortable in my skin. And, the more I think about it, I don’t miss the girl I used to be at all. Why would I want to go back to the insecurity of dating, the uncertainty of the first couple years out of college, and living in crappy apartments because it was all I could afford?

Yes, life is hard sometimes. Along with the happiness of parenting comes the difficulty of raising a child and wanting to do a REALLY GOOD JOB as a parent. Marriage, although blissful and romantic much of the time, is pretty damn hard sometimes. But, I have to say that I am really, really , insanely happy. I wouldn’t trade who I am now for anything, even on those days when I am dog tired and fed up with just about everything.

Hooray for turning 30! Life is very, very good.

Happy Dance!!!

When I went to look at today's mail, I noticed a letter addressed to the parents of Grace from Milwaukee Public Schools...GASP!!...Grace's enrollment information for K4 next year.

I took a deep breath, said a little prayer, and opened the letter...

She got into Tippecanoe! I am so excited!! I had posted an entry in January about some school tours that we went on to check out our neighborhood schools, and in that entry, I had concluded that I would have been happy with Grace going to either Tippecanoe or Burdick Elementary. Since then, I have done some extensive research into test scores and things like that and out of the two schools, Tippecanoe by far has better scores and overall ratings than Burdick. And, I also found out that since Tippecanoe is a specialty school, if a child is not enrolled there by first grade, they can't be enrolled there after that at all. Also, every time we pass Tippecanoe, Grace says, "That's going to be my new school!" so I wasn't looking forward to having to tell her otherwise. So, recently I have been really, really hoping that Grace would be enrolled at Tippecanoe. Oh, I am so excited. It also helps that I can see the school out of our living room window, so we won't have to worry about transportation.

Oh happy, happy day.

Yaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwwnnnnn

Tonight, Grace, Aaron, and I were doing some shopping at our favorite store in the world, Target, when Grace made fun of me for the first time ever. Here's how it went down:

Me: (after noting that Grace had not one but two new holes in her relatively new pair of jeans and thinking to myself that her day care teachers must agree that I am the world's worst mother for sending her child to school with torn pants [I swear there were no holes in her jeans this morning when I dropped her off]) Let's find some iron-on patches. I think they might be (biiiiiiiiiig yawn) over there.

Grace: (mocking my biiiiiiiiiiig yawn) Over there?

Me: Are you making fun of me?

Grace: (Giggling at her funny) Yep.

Geez. She's not even four and she's making fun of her mom.

Don't know why I have been so tired lately. Sure, it could have something to do with the fact that I have been going to bed later than usual because Aaron and I have been up after Grace goes to bed working on our reception invitations. Could be because I have been working like a dog trying to keep up with house work now that I am working full time again. Could also be because the sickness that seems to be plaguing the rest of the nation has descended on our house and has made its way through Aaron and Grace, setting its sights on me. Either way, I'm frigging beat and to top it off (or because of it), I've been totally spacing out today. Mama needs a good nap or a morning to sleep in.

Winter, Schminter

I took a peek at weather.com while I was at work today because I had heard that we are in store for another bout of snow, and I found this:

A WINTER STORM WATCH IS ISSUED WHEN HEAVY SNOW...AND/OR SLEET... AND/OR FREEZING RAIN MAY COMBINE WITH STRONG WINDS TO CAUSE MAJOR IMPACTS TO COMMERCE AND SOCIETY. CONTINUE TO MONITOR THE LATEST FORECASTS FOR UPDATES AND POSSIBLE WARNINGS.

This is Sunday’s forecast…yet another six inches of snow are predicted, but at this point, after getting roughly 8000 feet of snow this winter, does it really matter? What made me chuckle was “…to cause major impacts to commerce and society.” Ah yes, the writer of this warning clearly must have been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic with me earlier this week during the most recent snowstorm, when my thirty minute commute took me an hour and a half. The only saving grace about this upcoming snowstorm is that it’s predicted to hit on Sunday, so at least it won’t affect rush hour traffic…at least it won’t if all of the roads are plowed by Monday morning. I think I’m going to just try to ignore winter from now on. Maybe it will go away.