Archive for August, 2007

Aug 30

Philanthropy Thursday

Oh today.

Ohhhhh today.

Oh woe is me.

My baby won’t sleep well, I have to continually pump milk, my husband is on the road and won’t be home till late, I haven’t been able to prep dinner yet, the glass baby bottles I ordered showed up and I’m such a dumbass I ordered 4oz instead of 8oz and will now have to sell these on ebay and order new ones.

Oh woe the f is me.

Woe. Or, if you prefer Joey Lawrence. Whoa! or Keanu Reeves. Whooooooa.

So in my incapacitated by baby actually napping on me status, I’ve been making my Google Reader blow apart at the seams by going through the Oh the Joys Blogroll and adding a gazillion new sites to check in on. In my frenzy, I found this.

Yeah. So let me reframe my above tale of woe into something more grateful.

I love my baby. I may not love spending quality time with him awake round the clock, but I love my baby and I’m so grateful he’s with us.

I have the superpower ability to pump milk for my baby. I have not run out. I have enough. He is not hungry. Nor am I. And if I so chose, I have the finances and the clean water to make formula.

My husband is coming home to me. He’s safe another day. And he’s not off with some skinny bitch secretary.

I have food for dinner to prep. Organic, grass fed, food.

Ebay. Lord. I’ll probably make a profit on what I spent on the bottles. So I’m a dumbass. This is not new information.

So. Philanthropy. Which goes along with my Gen X Grandma Values I’m trying to work into my life.

My college sorority has asked the alums to send them products to donate for care bags for a local women’s shelter. I had finally cleared out all the sample sized stuff I had that would be practical. It’s sitting on the end of my bed ready to be mailed. The philanthropy post brings me back around to the gratitude of having enough to share, and chips away at my fear of “but I could use that!” When? Let it go. Bless someone else.

The thing I regularly do is tithe. And here’s how I have been going about it, I share this to be a part of the Philanthropy Thursday concept, but also because this might inspire you to determine your own level of “enough”.

My second year teaching I estimated what 1% of my paycheck would be and rounded off. 10 dollars, twice a month. My third year of teaching, I made it 2% (20 dollars, twice a month). This year, even though I am not working, I have decided to go ahead and increase it again, to 30 dollars, twice a month. We have enough.

For me the key is where I chose to send my money. One check goes to the church we attended before we moved, and I will continue to send my money there as long as we don’t have a home church in the land of the vices.

The other check is the one that is closer to my heart. My grandma (mom’s mom, not dad’s mom from the other post), died at the end of my first year teaching. She had lived in a tiny town with a tiny church that she was a member of for 89 years. 89 years. My great great grandma helped build that church congregation. There are few members because there are few people in the town. When were back for the funeral I knew this was a place where I could feel good about sending money. 240 dollars a year was a percentage of their budget. My money would matter to them.

But it’s really a selfish thing. Once a month, I sit and I write out a check. The entire time I write the check, enter it in the ledger, and address the envelope, I am thinking of my grandma. And I feel grateful for her. I remember. It’s my own monthly communion.

So there’s my Philanthropy Thursday.

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Posted in Domestic Goddess

Aug 29

A Time when Breastfeeding and Applebee’s Don’t Mix

August is World Breastfeeding Month, which has stirred up all kinds of debates and comments about breastfeeding and free formula bags. In case you’ve missed some of the conversation, here’s some links:

Strollerderby One

Strollerderby Two

Blissfully Bitchy

Bellies and Babies

Now, I may not be a fan of the “nurse-in” concept myself, but I might just be a little envious of the women who’s (whose?) boobs don’t land in their lap when they open up the nursing bra, who can find nursing bras that fit, who don’t have to listen to the wheeze of a pump to get their breast milk to their baby, and who have never found themselves in the absurd situation of pumping milk for a hungry baby while hungry baby cries because he just won’t take the milk straight from the nice warm source.

However, I’d buy a set of markers for women who want to do the nurse in. But then, I’d buy the same markers for the women who want to formula feed. Motherhood is a bitch and anyone going through it deserves some fucking support.

That being said, apparently some folks at Applebee’s don’t get it.

Here’s a link to the story.

And a link to the pdf of the Kentucky law.

And a blogger who I like and I’m biased toward, so I’m sending her some link love on the matter.

Now, I’m not a fan of Applebee’s anyway, if I wanted premade, prepackaged food out of the freezer and reheated, I’d stay home and give my hubs a tip for serving it to me. So to say that I won’t eat at Applebee’s isn’t really a hardship for me. But I do think this is crap, as it sounds like she wasn’t sitting at the bar flailing her boob around for all to see (and even if she was, so what?). I’m also a huge fan of children not screaming, hungry kids tend to scream. (So do I for that matter.) Below is the text from a postcard being made available to people in Lexington to sign and mail.

Dear Mr. Mike Scanlon:

Due to Applebee’s employees violating KRS 211.755 on June 14, 2007

re: Mrs. Brooke Ryan and her infant son

I am asking Applebee’s:

1) to make a clear national policy that mothers have a right to breastfeed in their stores without being asked to move, hide, cover-up or leave

2) to train all employees that breastfeeding is different from other behaviors that customers might complain about (such as loud music, offensive language, etc.), and that employees are never to ask a breastfeeding mother to move, cover up, or leave. Instead employees can advise the complaining customer to avert their eyes or move to a different part of the store

3) to make the public aware of this policy

I will not be dining at any Applebee’s restaurants until a public apology is made and Applebee’s changes its stance on breastfeeding. Eatin’ is not good in the neighborhood if you are a breastfeeding baby.

Signature

Mailing address:

Mike Scanlon President, CEO, Director

Applebee’s Corporate Headquarters

249 East Main Street

Lexington, Kentucky 40507

One more thing: Hello, it’s a signed law. You don’t have to agree with it or like it. If you don’t want to follow it, then it looks like it’s time for you to start your own letter writing campaign to try to get it repealed.

Edited: Here’s another take on the situation.

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Posted in Nekkid Stuff

Aug 29

Our Anniversary Tale

(pasted from email sent to my girlfriends)

Now here’s the funny story of the week.

Still haven’t, y’know, done the deed. Just couldn’t do it when his mom was in the house. Now just can’t do it because I just can’t get in the mood when always listening for Kaiser to pipe up. Hubs is feeling all neglected and blah blah. Stressed. You know boys. Boy parts must be attended to or they don’t feel loved. So Scout really feels unloved.

So. Anyway. I call a friend who lives 3 hours away. Flat out ask her “so if we drive to see you will you take care of the baby for a couple hours so my hubs and I can have the sex?” She says absolultely and thinks it’s somewhere between sad and funny that we have to drive 3 hours to find a babysitter.

So. Tomorrow after closing I will put Scout and Alex in the car and start driving. Haven’t told Scout we’re going away for the night. Have room reserved someplace with a king bed, whirlpool and river view.

Now clearly need contraception and assistive materials for this venture what with the I don’t want to get pregnant ever again and I’ve already had two periods since Alex was born (it figures, not supposed to have a period while breastfeeding – so now my regularity is irregular. Can’t win). I know I’ve seen a Priscillas in town but I can’t remember where. The GPS doesn’t list and I can’t find it in the phone book. (The phone book has an entire page of “escort services” but nothing under ’sex’, ‘erotic’ or ‘intimate’). So I end up at walgreens and I get some Durex pleasure pack with 3 condoms, 3 different lubes (I detest the word “lube” but can’t think of a euphemism), and a … vibrating condom ring. I figured what the hell right? So for 12 bucks I have this naughty little box in my right hand … and my innocent baby on my left arm. I go to check out and to my horror both registers are run by high school boys. I turn around and go to the pharmacy where I get waited on by a very pregnant woman who smiled and laughed when I turned bright red and said “thank you for not making me have my condoms rang up by a high school boy!”

postscript

So today on the way to the house closing we pull off the highway. and there sits Priscilla’s. I’d been just south on the other side of the highway TWICE yesterday.

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Posted in More Mommy Stuff

Aug 28

Here a shot… there a shot….

Today was shot day.

Not an easy choice. I’ve worked with students who have documented adverse reactions to immunizations. I’ve been to the funeral of a 9 year old who had PDD and seizures as related to her immunizations (Dept of Health and Human Services agrees with this statement to the tune of enough money that the family could afford to care for their daughter with round the clock in home care and tutors). Scout’s job predecessor has a son who was developmentally normal until a week after his second round of shots and he’s been exhibiting PDD/ASD traits ever since.

And I *know* there’s not supposed to be an autism/vaccine link. I know this. However. In my tiny tiny sample size, I know that when there were preexisting conditions of neurology or prematurity or general “not normalness” that adverse reactions have happened.

It’s difficult to find good information about it too. Everyone has a very strong bias, indicating that you will harm your baby no matter which choice you make.

I wanted to be able to follow the CDC schedule. I wanted to have no questions. I also wanted the sick feeling in my gut to go away when I thought about it. I wanted my mommy lion intuition to quit going off and just let me follow the damn schedule no questions asked.

I spent two years before Alex was even born struggling with this issue.

My opinion boils down to this: I think it’s a lot to ask a little body that is learning how to eat, sleep, poop, move and communicate to also fight off diseases stuck directly into his little body.

I wish I could find solid information on WHY the CDC recommends the schedule they do. I found stuff on HepB and based on that, we decided to pass on it for now (Scout and I have both been vaccinated, my tests came back negative, we believe we can limit Alex’s exposure to drug needles and infected semen for a few years (and if not, then our family has issues the vaccine will not cure.))

We didn’t start shots till today – 4 months – rather than 2 months. This was really based on we were driving cross country at 8 weeks, and regardless of big picture outcome, we just couldn’t put the baby and ourselves through one more thing at that point. No one wants to not feel good on a long drive, and that drive was hard enough on us all anyway. This way all of our records would be in the same doctor’s office as well. Our insurance cards didn’t show up till 3 months, and it took me another week to call the ped to make the appointment and they just put it off till 4 months.

Today we did the HiB and PCV (Prevnar). Here is why:

Our 1st ped (who we loved and adored) said that when he was in his residency that he tested for meningitis in the ER so often that he could do the spinal tap in the dark with his eyes closed b/c he did several per night, every third night (when he was on call). He said that it’s just the worst feeling in the world to pull out a syringe of pus because you just know how bad this could get for the family. Now that the vaccines are in place (roughly 15 years later) he told us that ped residents fight over the spinal taps b/c they know they need the experience. The cases of meningitis have drastically shrunk, according to what he’s seen. I liked this anecdote, and it was more meaningful to us than statistics. Our ped today was of the same era and felt the same way about what she’s seen. Said she can still vividly picture the first case of meningitis she diagnosed. So. HiB and PCV it was. She said HiB has virtually no side effects and PCV is 1/4 with some fever etc. She would prefer to do all the vaccines on schedule, but was supportive of this b/c while you don’t really see DTaP or Polio, you DO still see meningitis, so there’s more of a sense of urgency to do these vaccines.

We will do this modified CDC immunization schedule:

HiB and PCV (Prevnar) at months 4, 6, and 8

DTaP and Polio at months 5, 7, and 9

This will put us on schedule by month 9.

We didn’t have to make a decision about the Rotavirus (Rotatec) because he’s already too old for it. (Which I totally didn’t realize before we went to the ped today).

For the record, I think vaccines are a God send. My grandma had Polio on her 9th birthday, and spent the rest of her life with one foot smaller than the other and weaker on one side of her body. She also suffered from some post Polio syndrome problems when she was much much older. I am grateful for Salk vaccines and such. I just question why we need to pump them into tiny ones when the threat of the specific disease is less – wouldn’t we be just as safe from Diphtheria and Whooping Cough doing them at age one or two? I don’t know the answer to this, and I’m going to go ahead and do the vaccines close to on time anyway, but I still wonder ….

If Alex were a formula fed baby in full time day care, our vaccination choices would be the to the letter of the CDC schedule, but as I am spending hours a day pumpin’ the mammar-ade and he’s home with me all day, and I’m doing an okay job of eating a decent diet of food to siphon through to him in milk, we believe we are supporting his little immune system pretty well, and the vaccines are another tool to keep him healthy.

And as for today. Kaiser Alex was a real brave champ. He voiced his displeasure of the whole shot thing, but nothing like meltdowns we’ve seen. We’re 4 hours post vac and one dose of Ty1eno1 in and so far so good. He’s even taking a little nap!

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Posted in More Mommy Stuff

Aug 27

Today’s Routine

Input, Output, Sleep, Repeat.

The Kaiser has been killing us softly with his whine. The lack of sleep is truly staggering. Scout actually did most of the baby wrangling this weekend, earning a billion points when he asked, “Is this normal?” and I said “yes, this is a normal day” and he with no bs in his voice said once and for all “your job is harder than mine.” He’d said that before, many times, but this time I knew he knew how much he meant it. Which gave me a lot of comfort in light of how odd I felt last week. I spent the weekend sorting embroidery floss. A project I thought would take part of one day and ended up a full weekend project (I was consolidating four people’s stashes into one. I now have two ebay auctions to ditch the extra stuff that I’ll never use … as if I’ll ever need to buy thread again. Ever.)

Kaiser was insisting on eating nonstop, which is pulling me out of bed twice a night to pump a bottle for him – I used to be three feedings ahead. Now I’m barely keeping pace. No “Pantley pull off” for this boy. Unless we want middle of the night screaming and such. So not worth it. And just wakes me completely up, meaning it takes hours for me to fall asleep again. (Hours=exaggeration. Some)

So today is an Input, Output, Sleep, Repeat day. I feed us, I bathroom us, we sleep, we do it again. I don’t have to be super entertaining mommy. If it takes Sesame Street to entertain him while I eat, fine. If I don’t do anything but keep us alive today, fine.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my nap. Kaiser says.

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Posted in Issues

Aug 26

A Sunday Story

12 years ago, 3 of my closest friends were leaving a movie, as they made a right turn out of the parking lot, they were plowed into by a 17 year old, late for curfew, on his way home.

Oh, he was going “in excess of 110 miles an hour” and had a blood alcohol content of 1.googleplex (I don’t remember anymore, it was appallingly over the limit.)

12 years later they are all fine. There are many many stories I could share about this one event. But basically it was the moment I realized we truly were not invincible, and everything I didn’t learn about faith from a grandma, I learned from this.

I also learned that faith can be fu-NEE!

My friend M. is a preacher’s kid. He sustained the worst injuries from the crash, being thrown out of the back of the car like a rag doll and landing on a sidewalk across the street. The sidewalk for the State Farm agency that would be handling a lot of the insurance claims, as irony would have it. He landed on his face, for the most part, and this tossed him into a semiconscious state where his speech skills were limited to two words.

“Ow. Fuck.”

We gathered around his bed and told him about football scores, to which he replied with a conversational, “Ow. Fuck”.

We told him about the plot of Days of our Lives. He replied with an annoyed, “Owwwww. Fuck.” Which you just knew meant gimme outta here, I don’t want to listen to this shit when I’m conscious, much less stuck in bed.”

We told him about the people praying for him, and the messages we’d heard. He replied with a gracious, “Ow, Fuck.”

And in the night, when the pain got bad, he would yell “ooooooowwwwwwwfffuuuuuuuuck!” and all the other residents in the ICU with similar consciousness would join in the ow fuck chorus.

Now his mom just couldn’t take it anymore.?Ǭ† She patiently taught him, “Say Ow, Jesus Christ.” (Not the JC of the stubbing of the toe, the JC of the reverent prayer.)

Which he did …. sort of ….

Now his mantra was:

Ow! Fuck Jesus Christ!

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Posted in Kaiser Mommy

Aug 24

Who I want to be when I grow up

I’ve always been one to recycle. I’ve always been one to forget to turn off a light when I leave the room (but I’m trying to remember). I read treehugger daily.

(I live in a 2200 sq ft McMansion with two cars plus a company car in the land of the vices. And I lurve me some air-conditioning.)

I’m a geek for Anne of Green Gables, Jo March Bhaer and Laura Ingalls Wilder. I love the routine and simplicity of each day in their lives. I yearn for an apron and a nail to hang it on.

(The reality is that I admire hard work but seem to spend a whole lot of time on this here computer rather than going about a routine of actually cleaning up said McMansion or even getting dressed to the bra, forget to the shoes.)

I admire my grandmas and I realize they would be considered very “green” by today’s standards. In one house if you had enough bathwater to reach the back of the tub, then you had enough. (I have a deep whirlpool. I justify that at least when I turn on the jets that I’m giving baby a bath with me.) In the other house the bags from the insides of the cereal boxes was saved for waxed paper and the plasticware and cups were washed (no dishwasher) and reused each family event.

(Guh, washing dishes skeezes me out. )

I know that they were this way because they grew up and married in the midst of the depression. That the rels who had moved away to the city moved home to the farm because they could survive out there. Their lives were about saving for the future (my 3000 in retirement just won’t cut it), and decreasing their needs for “now”, Using what they had and not buying more.

It was about recognizing “Enough”.

I want to do better at this. I want to recognize what “Enough” is in my life. I want to work on answering the question about can a Gen Xer be more like her grandmas without being crunchy crunchy hairy legged girl.

(Oh, I guess if that’s my condition then I better go shave.)

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Posted in Domestic Goddess

Aug 23

Mommy’s Point System

My glass of mommy is pretty empty. I’d say it’s at about a 10. I’m new to this whole mom thing, but I’m wagering that I need to be at about 100 to be a happy, well rounded, good for Scout and Alex, mommy again.

Being a goal oriented kind of girl I am creating a list of things and their point values to get me back to 100. I’m not listing the negative points because that’s just too frustrating, and I might find that my 10 should actually be -100. :) If anyone would like to donate to my cause, please feel free.

Jeans/shorts/non yoga pants that fit while sitting without needing to be unbuttoned +5

Already owned, prepregnancy jeans etc that fit while sitting without needing to be unbuttoned +10

159 +10

154 +10

149 +10

145 +10

139 +10

sex +5 (unless Scout is reading this then clearly it’s +200)

a foot rub and massage +15 (hey, I’m lazy, what can I say?)

healthy dinner made of real food that I have no responsibilities for other than eating it +10

followed by dessert of sinful calorie amounts +15 (total)

fitting into the bras I splurged on, then got pregnant and went up a cup size as soon as the stick turned pink +15

the entire inside of the house being painted +50

all the rooms in the house being settled/usable +50

getting all our money reimbursed from the move +50

8 hours of uninterrupted sleep +30

10 hours of uninterrupted sleep +40

watching an entire movie (of my choice) +10

baby sleeping 4 hours straight +25

baby not screaming/whimpering/needing anything +5 per hour

completing a project, any project +5

completing a fun project – knitting, scrapbook +10

finding a combination of eye makeup that enhances my eyes, not the purple shadows under my eyes +10

finding time to put on magical combo of eye makeup +15

What am I forgetting?

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Posted in I have no idea

Aug 22

Why the jeans?

With a predicted high of 96 degrees in the land of the vices today, why am I wearing 7 year old pair of repeatedly mended jeans?

Because I freakin’ CAN.

Why am I not unbuttoning the top button when I sit, even though it would make them more comfortable ?

Because I’m freakin’ stubborn.

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Posted in Weight

Aug 21

What was that about gratitude?

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Overwhelmed, out of time, in the midst of a messy house, with that fucking 164.5 on the scale AGAIN, can’t find my bra so the girls are sagging to the new post pregnancy location of my navel, cute shirts from Old Navy already feel like cheap shit after being washed a few times, yoga pants – again -, baby crying and not going down for nap, Scout leaving to go home for an overnighter, me dropping my basket.

I *refused* to say the words “I don’t want you to go.” I wanted to say them. But I would not. Three times he said he was staying, three times I said he was going.

Deep down I’m a little pissed he’s going. It’s money I’d rather spend on stuff for the house to make my world easier (selfish). It’s another 36 hours where I’m on my own with baby (selfish). I still don’t know anyone out here well enough to have them help me today.

I hate being weak like this. I feel like he goes to work and makes the money and I stay home and raise the baby and keep the house. Only ….. I feel like shit every time he does anything about the house, because it’s not like I can go to his job and help him out on a hard day.

I feel like I can’t catch my breath. Like in 9th grade gym when we had to run the mile. I knew I couldn’t do it, so I would alternate sprinting with walking (long before I knew the phrase “interval training”). I would sprint a leg and walk a leg to catch my breath. But before I’d caught my breath it would be time to sprint again. Each leg I was a little more out of breath and it hurt a little more. By the end of the mile I was still the last one (unless you count the girl gasping near me, “I need a cigarette”), having been lapped by the “good” runners, and passed by everyone else.

I feel like that today every day.

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Posted in I have no idea

Aug 20

A post about Gratitude.

(which could also be titled “Knowing how to behave when it really counts”)

You could say my family puts the fun in dysfunctional. But it’s not always fun, and it’s not always dysfunctional.

From where I stand, every single person in my family shares a common goal: Make Grandma happy.

I think we were all born understanding that we were placed in the arms of a special woman. Grandma will be 94 in November. She started being a mother a month after her 15th birthday when her mom died of the flu. She feels eternal to us – we started planning her 90th birthday celebration a year in advance. No one thinks of life without Grandma, I think we’re all also assuming she will live forever.

I realizing driving home from the big family shindig this weekend that I couldn’t figure out how I felt – I didn’t feel particularly passionate in any familiar direction – joy, anger, annoyance, fear, sadness – any of the normal sensations that tick through me after a weekend with the fam.

Today I realized I feel grateful. I looked at the evening through Grandma’s eyes and understood why:

She is 93 years old.

She has four children who were all at the wedding with their spouses/sig others. She was driven to the wedding by her older daughter who is kicking the ass out of breast and thyroid cancer – who decided to ignore her doctors when they told her not to travel – who looks absolutely stunning in her “is it or isn’t it a wig” and her neckline showing the stitches from her thyroid surgery this same week. (My people – we are obstinate – It can serve us well). She was met by her youngest son who also managed to kick a little cancer butt this year.

13 of her 14 grandchildren were there. Everyone playing nicely with each other. Everyone stopping to spend some Grandma time.

All 14 of her great grandchildren were there. 3 she had never met before.

2 more grandchildren told her they were expecting in February/March.

The family was together. The family was happy. I’m grateful she had this night. I’m grateful we took the time to go. I’m grateful, for this moment, to be a part of this family.

(There are, as always, stories of baby poop, screaming on the highway, flasks of bourbon in purses and pockets, and all night parties, how my throat hurt for days in anticipation of screaming arguments – but this is about how well everything can all go down when everyone knows how to behave when it really counts.)

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Posted in Daddy

Aug 16

’splain sumpin’ to me please . . .

How does something come from here:

Go to here ….

Apparently get here:

Go through one of these:

To come out looking like this?

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Posted in Nekkid Stuff

Aug 16

I might have detected the problem…

…with my weight loss.

Actually, I’ve known it all along….

To be fair, it was Key Lime Pie day. It only comes around once a month, and I don’t know if it’s just a summer thing – I might not be able to get it next month. And I figured as long as I was there I might as well get a Peanut Butter Crack … I mean Concrete Mixer. And I should get a sandwich (cuz I was hungry). So I got chicken. Because that’s healthy. Breaded. Because that’s tasty.

And for the record, one of the Key Limes is still untouched in the freezer. The Peanut Butter is not gone… but now that I’ve looked at this photo I think I need to go find it. I hear its sweet song singing to my soul.

OH FINE! I hear it singing to my thighs. Whatever.

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Posted in Nekkid Stuff, Weight

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