Last year on this day, we were travelling through Montana. We stopped in Bozeman and Missoula to check out all the scary Halloween decorations in people's yards. The college crowd in Montana really does it up for the occasion. By comparison, Lansing seems really lacking in spirit (pardon the pun).
What a difference a year makes. Making that cross-country trip doesn't seem like a year ago already; we had such a good time and the memories are so fresh, yet so many things have happened since then that it only makes sense that a year must have passed. It's hard to believe how different everything is now from then--we had just lost Shabbi and were consumed with grief for her passing; Adam had just returned from Iraq so we were simultaneously celebrating his arrival; we had an uncertain future ahead of us, including continued travel, the worry of finding jobs, and talk of getting married one day. Now, a year later, here we are, with so much changed. While we still grieve Shabbi's absence daily, in some ways we're able to shift the context of her passing into fond memories of her life, rather than constant sadness of her death. Adam has left again, this time for a "deployment" we can both be happy about; he's stateside, in the same time zone, and not in harm's way. And of course, the obvious changes--the nuptials and Wee Willie on the way. I'm constantly reminded these days how life really doesn't turn out the way you want it to, but sometimes it's better that it didn't. Adam and I had no plans to start trying for a family until after his training was over, so at least 6 months from now. Even more, we were hoping to already have two full-time jobs with benefits, good pay, excellent career potential, and a reason to move out of Lansing into a bigger home with fewer issues. Well, of course none of that happened (yet). But as a good friend of ours said, neither of us is getting any younger. Who's to say that 6 months from now, something might not have arisen that made getting pregnant more difficult? With Ads knocking on 39, becoming a dad now is really not a bad thing, no matter what our (perceived) circumstances are. So, with many other things in life (deployments, unemployments, etc.) we are just taking a deep breath and letting the tide come in as it may. Along with the condoms, needles and other garbage that might wash up from time to time, the tide also brings in many little treasures--sea glass, coins, messages in bottles. We're breathing easy as our tide continues to come in.
A little existentialism for your Halloween this year. Be well, have fun and be safe, friends. I'll be on my front porch in last year's recycled costume (check back to the October 2007 entries to see my "Bride of Frankenstein" getup), passing out candy to the wee ones in the neighborhood. Love you all, and may you have a most fantastic and Happiest of Halloweens!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
REALLY??
If you've been a Saturday Night Live fan in the last season or two, you might have seen the segment that Amy Poehler and Seth Meyers have on "Weekend Update" called, "Really?". They feature a current media piece that seems completely ridiculous, and will discuss every single ridiculous angle of it, and then look at each other and say, "Really?".
Well, that was yesterday afternoon and all day today for me. My coworker, Mary, was the Amy Poehler to my Seth Meyers. We got back into the office yesterday after a relatively long day in the field. Just as I was getting my things together to go home, I heard Mary say, "Oh, come ON!" Somehow, in that instant, I knew my day had just gotten a little longer. She came out of her office with a note, written by one of the undergraduate lab technicians that we hired to work with us this fall. In a very flippant tone ("So Mary, funny story about today...", the girl had written to Mary that she and the other technician had been involved in an accident with our lab vehicle that had left a very small scratch and dent on the driver's side. Mary immediately went outside to examine the vehicle; she came back, red-faced and steaming, stating very exactly, "Lauren, that is NO SMALL DENT." Going back to check her e-mail, she then finds a nasty-gram e-mail from the vehicle rental department on campus; a campus worker had witnessed the vehicle accident, and the technicians had driven away, leaving the scene of the accident. Oh, don't worry, it just gets better. Considering this was the THIRD accident that someone from our crew has had this season (the last of which was had by the girl who was the passenger in the vehicle this time), we assumed that the technicians would understand what proper accident reporting protocol would be. Evidently not. They did not call the police, walk to the the vehicle rental office (which was about 20 ft from where they had the accident) for help, or call Mary's or my cell phones. They just did nothing. Oh yeah, the girl who was driving at the time wrote the little note.
Mary wrote both technicians a strongly worded e-mail, emphasizing the seriousness of the accident, the expense related, and the fact that they mishandled the reporting of the accident. She told them to be in to work immediately in the morning to report the accident to the police. Mary and I talked about the ludicrousness of it all as we were leaving work--how could they have not called the police? Why would they not have called one of us to ask what to do? Why would they act as though it were no big deal when they caused fairly major damage to a university vehicle? It was pretty incomprehensible to us, but we figured we'd deal with it in the morning.
Today was a new day. Both girls came in, filed the police report and then came to the lab. After getting annoyed with US for holding them up (Mary and I were in a business meeting when the girls were waiting in the lab), we took each of them into a closed-door meeting to talk to them about the details of the accident, to express our disappointment in their behavior, and to determine where to proceed. I've really never had to do this before, but I was angry--not at the accident itself, but by the way they handled the accident--and I wanted them both to know it. The girl who was driving started crying. Personally, I think she's a good actress, so I was unmoved; I was particularly upset with her because her story of how the accident happened (she swerved to avoid another driver) did not jive with the other girl's story (there was no one there but them and girl in the driver's seat was driving too fast). I laid it on the line; without actually accusing her of lying, I told her there were inconsistencies in her story, and that it conflicted with the eyewitness account by the campus worker. She seemed surprised that I picked up on the fact that she lied. I told her that any police officer would believe a non-partial observer over her, and that from now on, she had better be careful about inventing falsehoods into her story. Not only do her lies reflect poorly on her, but also on Mary and me for hiring her.
Both girls wore hangdog faces leaving the meeting, but they seemed to bounce back relatively fast, and were all smiles leaving the lab. I was still suspicious, but what more could I do? We all have accidents, and we can't fire them for an accident. Even the police officer who came to photograph the vehicle said that the area where they had the accident is a tight squeeze, and that he has had an accident himself there with a much smaller squad car. But, he thought based on the scratch marks on the vehicle (from both the previous accident and from yesterday's) that both girls were driving much too fast for the area they were in.
The clincher for this whole story was the encounter that Mary had with the administative assistants who had to handle all the paperwork. When Mary went to file the accident report with them, she articulated how sorry we both are for this third accident of the summer, and how we've spoken to both girls about the seriousness of the situation. The assistant said she was glad to hear that, because it was the opinion of everyone in the office that both girls, when they came in earlier to file the report, seemed flippant and not at all sorry about what they'd done. Even these women were disturbed by their behavior.
REALLY????
Where do these kids come from? At what point do kids today think they are above being in trouble? When I was their age (or even at my ripe old age now), if I had wrecked a company vehicle, I would be shaking in my boots. Is there really such a difference in attitude, behavior and upbringing in the generational gap that exists between us? Really? I know from my teaching experience that there are loads of kids who feel entitled to certain things (good grades, easy exams, not having to study) and who don't feel they have to obey rules (coming to class on time, not holding conversations during lectures, not cheating). But this blatant carefree attitude and complete disrespect for authority is new even to me. I'd like to chalk it up to differences in parenting approaches, access to information and technology, loss of accountability. Maybe it's all of those things and then some, but I have to admit I'm floored, and a little scared. I never want to raise a kid who doesn't take responsibility for him/herself. So many kids today really seem to think the earth revolves around them and that they can do no wrong; so many parents support this misconception. It's sad and scary.
Well, we can't re-rear these ladies, but we can give them a dose of reality. While Mary's and my boss suggested firing both of them, we decided to put them on 2 weeks' probation (at this point, any misstep will mean the loss of their jobs) and no driving privileges. That leaves us in a bind because this now means one of us will have to drive anytime we need to send these girls somewhere. It's just one big pain in the arse.
Well, I'd better run now. I'm doing a Halloween outreach event for the BugHouse in an hour; have to go pick up the Chilean Rose-hair Tarantula.
REALLY?? Really.
Well, that was yesterday afternoon and all day today for me. My coworker, Mary, was the Amy Poehler to my Seth Meyers. We got back into the office yesterday after a relatively long day in the field. Just as I was getting my things together to go home, I heard Mary say, "Oh, come ON!" Somehow, in that instant, I knew my day had just gotten a little longer. She came out of her office with a note, written by one of the undergraduate lab technicians that we hired to work with us this fall. In a very flippant tone ("So Mary, funny story about today...", the girl had written to Mary that she and the other technician had been involved in an accident with our lab vehicle that had left a very small scratch and dent on the driver's side. Mary immediately went outside to examine the vehicle; she came back, red-faced and steaming, stating very exactly, "Lauren, that is NO SMALL DENT." Going back to check her e-mail, she then finds a nasty-gram e-mail from the vehicle rental department on campus; a campus worker had witnessed the vehicle accident, and the technicians had driven away, leaving the scene of the accident. Oh, don't worry, it just gets better. Considering this was the THIRD accident that someone from our crew has had this season (the last of which was had by the girl who was the passenger in the vehicle this time), we assumed that the technicians would understand what proper accident reporting protocol would be. Evidently not. They did not call the police, walk to the the vehicle rental office (which was about 20 ft from where they had the accident) for help, or call Mary's or my cell phones. They just did nothing. Oh yeah, the girl who was driving at the time wrote the little note.
Mary wrote both technicians a strongly worded e-mail, emphasizing the seriousness of the accident, the expense related, and the fact that they mishandled the reporting of the accident. She told them to be in to work immediately in the morning to report the accident to the police. Mary and I talked about the ludicrousness of it all as we were leaving work--how could they have not called the police? Why would they not have called one of us to ask what to do? Why would they act as though it were no big deal when they caused fairly major damage to a university vehicle? It was pretty incomprehensible to us, but we figured we'd deal with it in the morning.
Today was a new day. Both girls came in, filed the police report and then came to the lab. After getting annoyed with US for holding them up (Mary and I were in a business meeting when the girls were waiting in the lab), we took each of them into a closed-door meeting to talk to them about the details of the accident, to express our disappointment in their behavior, and to determine where to proceed. I've really never had to do this before, but I was angry--not at the accident itself, but by the way they handled the accident--and I wanted them both to know it. The girl who was driving started crying. Personally, I think she's a good actress, so I was unmoved; I was particularly upset with her because her story of how the accident happened (she swerved to avoid another driver) did not jive with the other girl's story (there was no one there but them and girl in the driver's seat was driving too fast). I laid it on the line; without actually accusing her of lying, I told her there were inconsistencies in her story, and that it conflicted with the eyewitness account by the campus worker. She seemed surprised that I picked up on the fact that she lied. I told her that any police officer would believe a non-partial observer over her, and that from now on, she had better be careful about inventing falsehoods into her story. Not only do her lies reflect poorly on her, but also on Mary and me for hiring her.
Both girls wore hangdog faces leaving the meeting, but they seemed to bounce back relatively fast, and were all smiles leaving the lab. I was still suspicious, but what more could I do? We all have accidents, and we can't fire them for an accident. Even the police officer who came to photograph the vehicle said that the area where they had the accident is a tight squeeze, and that he has had an accident himself there with a much smaller squad car. But, he thought based on the scratch marks on the vehicle (from both the previous accident and from yesterday's) that both girls were driving much too fast for the area they were in.
The clincher for this whole story was the encounter that Mary had with the administative assistants who had to handle all the paperwork. When Mary went to file the accident report with them, she articulated how sorry we both are for this third accident of the summer, and how we've spoken to both girls about the seriousness of the situation. The assistant said she was glad to hear that, because it was the opinion of everyone in the office that both girls, when they came in earlier to file the report, seemed flippant and not at all sorry about what they'd done. Even these women were disturbed by their behavior.
REALLY????
Where do these kids come from? At what point do kids today think they are above being in trouble? When I was their age (or even at my ripe old age now), if I had wrecked a company vehicle, I would be shaking in my boots. Is there really such a difference in attitude, behavior and upbringing in the generational gap that exists between us? Really? I know from my teaching experience that there are loads of kids who feel entitled to certain things (good grades, easy exams, not having to study) and who don't feel they have to obey rules (coming to class on time, not holding conversations during lectures, not cheating). But this blatant carefree attitude and complete disrespect for authority is new even to me. I'd like to chalk it up to differences in parenting approaches, access to information and technology, loss of accountability. Maybe it's all of those things and then some, but I have to admit I'm floored, and a little scared. I never want to raise a kid who doesn't take responsibility for him/herself. So many kids today really seem to think the earth revolves around them and that they can do no wrong; so many parents support this misconception. It's sad and scary.
Well, we can't re-rear these ladies, but we can give them a dose of reality. While Mary's and my boss suggested firing both of them, we decided to put them on 2 weeks' probation (at this point, any misstep will mean the loss of their jobs) and no driving privileges. That leaves us in a bind because this now means one of us will have to drive anytime we need to send these girls somewhere. It's just one big pain in the arse.
Well, I'd better run now. I'm doing a Halloween outreach event for the BugHouse in an hour; have to go pick up the Chilean Rose-hair Tarantula.
REALLY?? Really.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Travelled With Charley
So, first off, I wanted to send many thanks to all of you who have been so gracious and wonderful and supportive in response to my last post. I have to say that it wasn't easy to write; I had been turning it over in my mind for several weeks, trying to figure out exactly how I wanted to phrase the disclosure of so much news all at once. You all made it so much easier, though; we've gotten nothing but happiness, excitement and genuine encouragement. THANK YOU.
Last Thursday, Ads and I packed up the car for the what-we-thought-would-be-10-hour-but-actually-turned-out-to-be-12-hour drive from Michigan to Virginia. It was a long, but nice drive, as we had time to talk, make some decisions and just have alone time before his 6-month absence. We pulled into my sister's driveway at 7am Friday morning, briefly glanced at all the fabulous renovations she and her husband have done to the house, and then promptly fell asleep for the next few hours. The weekend was really great--my mum, sister and brother-in-law had all taken time off work to spend the weekend with us. We bummed around the house, catching up on everything and relaxing after our long drive; watched a lot of cable tv, which we don't have at home; and my mum and I caught up on some movies we've been dying to watch together ("Jane Austen Book Club" and "Sense and Sensibility"). Saturday we bummed around the house until we left in the afternoon to see my sister's and brother-in-law's coffee shop, "The Filling Station", which I wrote about in a previous entry. Their partners, Debbie and Eric, were there and ready for Open Mic Night, which happens every Friday and Saturday evening. We had a great time with music, good conversation, and meeting new people from the town of Edinburg in the Shenandoah Valley.
Sunday, Adam, Kika and I ran around trying to get my rental car, and trying to pack everything up for his trip to Ft. Lee, and my trip back to Michigan. Needless to say, it was really, really hard to say good-bye this time; it always is, but this time, with baby-in-tow, was even harder. At this point, we're not even sure what his holiday leave schedule is, so we don't yet have a definitive date for when we'll see each other again. Add to the fact that we found out that his training schedule has him leaving Virginia in early February for additional training in Georgia or Oklahoma, which would totally make my moving to Virginia in January pretty obsolete. So, for now, I'll be in Michigan, and we're hoping that the stars will align to make it possible for us to see each other over the next 6 months. At the very least, he's still slated to be back in Michigan a good 1 or 1 1/2 months before the birth, assuming the spud doesn't decide to come 6 weeks early!
Kiks and I set off for Michigan just past 2pm, which was good because we had a nice, long good-bye with Adam, but bad because it meant I had a 12 hour drive ahead of me. Not even 2 hours into the trip, there was a massive traffic backup due to construction that delayed us by a good 45 minutes. I tried to speed a bit to make up for the delay, but the cops were on the prowl that day, so I had to drive rather prudently. Kiksa and I shared the driving; with her encroaching glaucoma, she preferred daylight driving, so I let her take the weening daylight hours and then I drove through the night. We kept ourselves awake listening to "All 80s" radio stations and singing along, really loudly, to every tune we knew. That Kika really does have some pipes on her. Spoke to a few friends, but my cell phone was running out of battery juice, so I had to hang up and rely on the radio for the majority of the trip. Around 11pm, I pulled into a reststop just west of Oberlin, OH, and almost took a nap. However, after a rejuvenating cup of (decaf) coffee, mixed fruit and an oatmeal cookie, I was ready to hit the road again. The pull of sleeping in my own bed was just too tempting to resist. So we were off once more, and rolled into our driveway (3 torrential rainstorms later) at 2am. I was too tired to even clean out the car; I just greeted a very lonesome Greg House, let Kika potty, and then we all piled into bed, as I had to be up for work by 7am. Adam had to be awake by 2:30, so I called him just before I hit full-fledge sleep to let him know we'd made it home safely. He was sleepy and groggy, but it was good to hear his voice right before I drifted off.
So, that's that. Kika, Greg House, the spud and I are hanging in there now, but really missing our man. The man is doing well, adjusting to a new branch of the military and to being away from home yet again. Hopefully we'll hear some good news soon of his holiday schedule so we'll have that definitive date for when we'll see him again. Until then, life goes on as normal.
Last Thursday, Ads and I packed up the car for the what-we-thought-would-be-10-hour-but-actually-turned-out-to-be-12-hour drive from Michigan to Virginia. It was a long, but nice drive, as we had time to talk, make some decisions and just have alone time before his 6-month absence. We pulled into my sister's driveway at 7am Friday morning, briefly glanced at all the fabulous renovations she and her husband have done to the house, and then promptly fell asleep for the next few hours. The weekend was really great--my mum, sister and brother-in-law had all taken time off work to spend the weekend with us. We bummed around the house, catching up on everything and relaxing after our long drive; watched a lot of cable tv, which we don't have at home; and my mum and I caught up on some movies we've been dying to watch together ("Jane Austen Book Club" and "Sense and Sensibility"). Saturday we bummed around the house until we left in the afternoon to see my sister's and brother-in-law's coffee shop, "The Filling Station", which I wrote about in a previous entry. Their partners, Debbie and Eric, were there and ready for Open Mic Night, which happens every Friday and Saturday evening. We had a great time with music, good conversation, and meeting new people from the town of Edinburg in the Shenandoah Valley.
Sunday, Adam, Kika and I ran around trying to get my rental car, and trying to pack everything up for his trip to Ft. Lee, and my trip back to Michigan. Needless to say, it was really, really hard to say good-bye this time; it always is, but this time, with baby-in-tow, was even harder. At this point, we're not even sure what his holiday leave schedule is, so we don't yet have a definitive date for when we'll see each other again. Add to the fact that we found out that his training schedule has him leaving Virginia in early February for additional training in Georgia or Oklahoma, which would totally make my moving to Virginia in January pretty obsolete. So, for now, I'll be in Michigan, and we're hoping that the stars will align to make it possible for us to see each other over the next 6 months. At the very least, he's still slated to be back in Michigan a good 1 or 1 1/2 months before the birth, assuming the spud doesn't decide to come 6 weeks early!
Kiks and I set off for Michigan just past 2pm, which was good because we had a nice, long good-bye with Adam, but bad because it meant I had a 12 hour drive ahead of me. Not even 2 hours into the trip, there was a massive traffic backup due to construction that delayed us by a good 45 minutes. I tried to speed a bit to make up for the delay, but the cops were on the prowl that day, so I had to drive rather prudently. Kiksa and I shared the driving; with her encroaching glaucoma, she preferred daylight driving, so I let her take the weening daylight hours and then I drove through the night. We kept ourselves awake listening to "All 80s" radio stations and singing along, really loudly, to every tune we knew. That Kika really does have some pipes on her. Spoke to a few friends, but my cell phone was running out of battery juice, so I had to hang up and rely on the radio for the majority of the trip. Around 11pm, I pulled into a reststop just west of Oberlin, OH, and almost took a nap. However, after a rejuvenating cup of (decaf) coffee, mixed fruit and an oatmeal cookie, I was ready to hit the road again. The pull of sleeping in my own bed was just too tempting to resist. So we were off once more, and rolled into our driveway (3 torrential rainstorms later) at 2am. I was too tired to even clean out the car; I just greeted a very lonesome Greg House, let Kika potty, and then we all piled into bed, as I had to be up for work by 7am. Adam had to be awake by 2:30, so I called him just before I hit full-fledge sleep to let him know we'd made it home safely. He was sleepy and groggy, but it was good to hear his voice right before I drifted off.
So, that's that. Kika, Greg House, the spud and I are hanging in there now, but really missing our man. The man is doing well, adjusting to a new branch of the military and to being away from home yet again. Hopefully we'll hear some good news soon of his holiday schedule so we'll have that definitive date for when we'll see him again. Until then, life goes on as normal.
Monday, October 20, 2008
A Happy Little Accident
So, if you ever watched PBS on Saturday afternoons (or weekday afternoons, too, I guess) back in the 70s, 80s or 90s, you probably remember that soft-spoken painter with the crazy afro, Bob Ross. He was my absolute favorite. That dude could paint any mountain, river, ocean, tree, house, you name it, and it always came out looking real. My favorite part of the show was when he'd use the wrong color, or make an errant mark, and say in that soft, husky voice, "Oops, didn't mean to do that...heheh, but I like to say there are no mistakes, just happy little accidents!" He'd go on to take that unexpected color or stray mark and create a beautiful fir tree or chimney-smoked house. That dude was totally right, may he rest in peace. Happy little accidents are sometimes the best stray marks in life.
So I tell this story as a lead-in to the events of the last few weeks. Back in mid-September, I started experiencing excrutiating cramps, which then led to an intensely pressurized, pulling feeling as though my lady organs were about to fall out of my body. I started doing searches online to determine what the problem might be and all (web) sites pointed in the same direction--a prolapsed uterus or bladder. Needless to say I was scared sh*tless. I didn't want to make a big deal of things because Adam was going through the process of acquiring his "Chiefdom" in the Navy, and I didn't want my hypochondria to interfere with his concentration. But the pain and the pulling sensations would not go away. I talked to my neighbor, Mrs. Gonzales about it; she said, "Girl, that sounds like your uterus is about to fall out! You need to go to the doctor! Why are you still going to work? What are you going to do if you uterus falls out of your body while you're at your desk?" Okay, getting all that from a 77-year spitfire of a lady was enough to get my butt in gear. I immediately made an appointment to see a doctor at the local clinic and got in the next day. I dragged Adam along with me in case he needed to rush me to the ER as soon as my appointment was over.
So, I go to the appointment with Adam (yawning) in tow. In fact, I believe he fell asleep in the waiting room, as he's always pretty sure that there's nothing wrong with me. I wasn't convinced this time; I could practically feel my uterus hanging by a thread. I had to urinate really badly, so they took a sample so they could test for infection (the clinic was pretty sure it was not a prolapsed uterus, but rather a vaginal infection; I was pretty sure they didn't know what they were talking about). When the nurse led me to an examining room, she asked me a battery of questions (ie--Have you been constipated? Have you been thirsty? Have you been dizzy? Are you nauseous/vomiting?). Of course, the normal questions you might ask a woman who has a prolapsed uterus or vaginal infection. Afterward, she told me to get undressed and to wait for the doctor to come in to do a vaginal examination. Approximately 10 seconds after she left the room, she came right back in (luckily I was not yet busting out of my clothes) and said in a very nonchalant way, "Okay, Lauren, so you are pregnant." What? What?What?? So, I, uh, huh?? Pregnant?? I really couldn't believe it (still can't). And the way she emphasized are, as if she had just proved herself right and me wrong; I didn't even realize the debate was on the table! All those times Adam told me he was on birth control pills--what a liar!!!
So, I'm pregnant? The nurse went to get a sleepy Adam from the waiting room and pretty much announced the news to him in the same fashion; he literally took a step backwards he was so shocked. He looked at me as if to say, "My man pills didn't work?!?" I asked him if he was okay; he replied that he was okay, but was I okay? I told him that I was. But wow, what news. We certainly put a new spin on the term "family planning", in that there wasn't a whole lot of planning involved with expanding this family. But, after we absorbed the initial shock, we were able to really relish this unexpected, but exciting news that we were going to one day soon have a wee one.
But how to tell our families? You see, there wasn't any easy way of doing that, but not for the reason most of you are thinking. I've never been bothered by the idea of never getting married, and having kids "out of wedlock," so to speak. To me, the whole institution of marriage is bally-hoo, anyway; historically, it was the way for a man to acquire a woman's wealth upon partnership (always bringin' a sister down, yo!) and for the government to keep an eye on yet another one of folks' goings-on. The whole "matrimony under God" stuff is meaningless to me, and is just stuff people made up to make the historical beginnings of marriage easier to swallow. So although I know that both Adam's and my mother would much prefer that we be married before introducing a child into the world, it was never enough of a big-ticket item for me to spend a lot of time worrying about. As long as we loved each other, and were happy about the kid, what's the big deal?
Well, the big deal, GULP!, is that we are already married. Yup, this what's-the-big-deal-about-marriage-anyway?-liberal-hippie got hitched back on February 29th, Leap Day. It was not out of some strong desire to fill the vacant hole in my heart that was persisting from my seemingly eternal single status. No, I was okay with being single in the eyes of Big Brother; Adam and I have loved each other since we started dating and that has been romantic and meaningful enough for me for the last nine years. No, it was because upon Adam's and my return from our travels out west earlier this year, I secured a full-time job that unfortunately, did not come with benefits. Adam was still covered from his deployment with the Navy, so we decided, for practicalities' sake, to do the deed. So we did it the day after our nine-year anniversary, in our home, with Kika there, and Shabbi's ashes in the background. It was private and wonderful (and just the stress-free affair I could really appreciate) and we went out for a fancy meal afterward.
But we decided not to tell anyone. Why hurt the feelings of friends and family who would have wanted to see us get married? Why not just keep it a secret, have a more public ceremony down in Key West sometime next year and just let everyone think that to be our (only) wedding day? Well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans...one local friend saw me wearing my wedding band out in public, another saw the wedding announcement in the newspaper, and it just started to snowball from there. So, many of our Lansing friends figured it out, but Adam and I decided to stay mum with our friends throughout the rest of the country (and world), and not a word was spilled to family, for fear of hurting feelings. But of course, all that would have to change with the news of Wee Willie Mittman's imminent arrival. We'd have to spill the beans.
Luckily, friends and family have taken the news (ALL the news) quite well and have been nothing but supportive. We are very lucky in that respect. It's still weird to talk about or refer to "my husband". Adam doesn't say the "w" word very often, either. But we've both been pretty keen on the idea of becoming "Mum" and "Daddy"; who'da thunk it would sit so well with either of us?
So, just a few quick facts before I end this e-mail so you can sit in a slight state of shock and ponder it all:
--I am currently about 9 weeks along (just got the first ultrasound done yesterday!) and all is well.
--My due date is somewhere between May 26-31. Originally they thought the 31st based on my last period (remember the pico de gallo story???) but the measurements they did on the little one yesterday suggest I'm actually about 5 days further along.
--I'm really sick and uncomfortable. Eating is a chore or an impossibility. I have not thrown up yet, but extreme nausea is my constant and unavoidable companion.
--I still have the pulling and pressure feelings, which evidently, are normal signs that my uterine ligaments are stretching, preparing for the bodily changes of pregnancy (hmmmm....okay)
--This 15-year long vegetarian is finally constipated. My normal "3 times a day!" routine has stopped up (literally) at a prolonged and rather eventful once a day visit to the throne.
--I can't maintain a stable body temperature. It's like I'm reptilian and I'm always ducking for a blanket, hood or extra sweater because I'm too cold. Just when I feel like I'm comfortable, I'll get a hot flash and I'm stripping off clothes like $1 bills are waiting at the end of the stage. It's not pretty.
So, everything is fine for now--baby is progressing healthily and I'm doing (relatively) well. Adam is a constant support, although his departure this week for 6 months of training has been difficult to swallow. We are toying seriously with the idea of my moving out to Virginia for the duration of the pregnancy after the New Year, but this still remains to be seen. My boss was totally cool when I told him everything yesterday, and he said I'd still have a job come July when I was back in town and ready to work, so I'm thrilled by that. Now I just have to sit down with Ads and figure everything out. Oh yea, and come up with a name. I'm fond of Wee Willie for now. And no, we're not going to find out the sex of Wee Willie. He or she will just have to deal with that name until s/he is born.
Bye now.
So I tell this story as a lead-in to the events of the last few weeks. Back in mid-September, I started experiencing excrutiating cramps, which then led to an intensely pressurized, pulling feeling as though my lady organs were about to fall out of my body. I started doing searches online to determine what the problem might be and all (web) sites pointed in the same direction--a prolapsed uterus or bladder. Needless to say I was scared sh*tless. I didn't want to make a big deal of things because Adam was going through the process of acquiring his "Chiefdom" in the Navy, and I didn't want my hypochondria to interfere with his concentration. But the pain and the pulling sensations would not go away. I talked to my neighbor, Mrs. Gonzales about it; she said, "Girl, that sounds like your uterus is about to fall out! You need to go to the doctor! Why are you still going to work? What are you going to do if you uterus falls out of your body while you're at your desk?" Okay, getting all that from a 77-year spitfire of a lady was enough to get my butt in gear. I immediately made an appointment to see a doctor at the local clinic and got in the next day. I dragged Adam along with me in case he needed to rush me to the ER as soon as my appointment was over.
So, I go to the appointment with Adam (yawning) in tow. In fact, I believe he fell asleep in the waiting room, as he's always pretty sure that there's nothing wrong with me. I wasn't convinced this time; I could practically feel my uterus hanging by a thread. I had to urinate really badly, so they took a sample so they could test for infection (the clinic was pretty sure it was not a prolapsed uterus, but rather a vaginal infection; I was pretty sure they didn't know what they were talking about). When the nurse led me to an examining room, she asked me a battery of questions (ie--Have you been constipated? Have you been thirsty? Have you been dizzy? Are you nauseous/vomiting?). Of course, the normal questions you might ask a woman who has a prolapsed uterus or vaginal infection. Afterward, she told me to get undressed and to wait for the doctor to come in to do a vaginal examination. Approximately 10 seconds after she left the room, she came right back in (luckily I was not yet busting out of my clothes) and said in a very nonchalant way, "Okay, Lauren, so you are pregnant." What? What?What?? So, I, uh, huh?? Pregnant?? I really couldn't believe it (still can't). And the way she emphasized are, as if she had just proved herself right and me wrong; I didn't even realize the debate was on the table! All those times Adam told me he was on birth control pills--what a liar!!!
So, I'm pregnant? The nurse went to get a sleepy Adam from the waiting room and pretty much announced the news to him in the same fashion; he literally took a step backwards he was so shocked. He looked at me as if to say, "My man pills didn't work?!?" I asked him if he was okay; he replied that he was okay, but was I okay? I told him that I was. But wow, what news. We certainly put a new spin on the term "family planning", in that there wasn't a whole lot of planning involved with expanding this family. But, after we absorbed the initial shock, we were able to really relish this unexpected, but exciting news that we were going to one day soon have a wee one.
But how to tell our families? You see, there wasn't any easy way of doing that, but not for the reason most of you are thinking. I've never been bothered by the idea of never getting married, and having kids "out of wedlock," so to speak. To me, the whole institution of marriage is bally-hoo, anyway; historically, it was the way for a man to acquire a woman's wealth upon partnership (always bringin' a sister down, yo!) and for the government to keep an eye on yet another one of folks' goings-on. The whole "matrimony under God" stuff is meaningless to me, and is just stuff people made up to make the historical beginnings of marriage easier to swallow. So although I know that both Adam's and my mother would much prefer that we be married before introducing a child into the world, it was never enough of a big-ticket item for me to spend a lot of time worrying about. As long as we loved each other, and were happy about the kid, what's the big deal?
Well, the big deal, GULP!, is that we are already married. Yup, this what's-the-big-deal-about-marriage-anyway?-liberal-hippie got hitched back on February 29th, Leap Day. It was not out of some strong desire to fill the vacant hole in my heart that was persisting from my seemingly eternal single status. No, I was okay with being single in the eyes of Big Brother; Adam and I have loved each other since we started dating and that has been romantic and meaningful enough for me for the last nine years. No, it was because upon Adam's and my return from our travels out west earlier this year, I secured a full-time job that unfortunately, did not come with benefits. Adam was still covered from his deployment with the Navy, so we decided, for practicalities' sake, to do the deed. So we did it the day after our nine-year anniversary, in our home, with Kika there, and Shabbi's ashes in the background. It was private and wonderful (and just the stress-free affair I could really appreciate) and we went out for a fancy meal afterward.
But we decided not to tell anyone. Why hurt the feelings of friends and family who would have wanted to see us get married? Why not just keep it a secret, have a more public ceremony down in Key West sometime next year and just let everyone think that to be our (only) wedding day? Well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans...one local friend saw me wearing my wedding band out in public, another saw the wedding announcement in the newspaper, and it just started to snowball from there. So, many of our Lansing friends figured it out, but Adam and I decided to stay mum with our friends throughout the rest of the country (and world), and not a word was spilled to family, for fear of hurting feelings. But of course, all that would have to change with the news of Wee Willie Mittman's imminent arrival. We'd have to spill the beans.
Luckily, friends and family have taken the news (ALL the news) quite well and have been nothing but supportive. We are very lucky in that respect. It's still weird to talk about or refer to "my husband". Adam doesn't say the "w" word very often, either. But we've both been pretty keen on the idea of becoming "Mum" and "Daddy"; who'da thunk it would sit so well with either of us?
So, just a few quick facts before I end this e-mail so you can sit in a slight state of shock and ponder it all:
--I am currently about 9 weeks along (just got the first ultrasound done yesterday!) and all is well.
--My due date is somewhere between May 26-31. Originally they thought the 31st based on my last period (remember the pico de gallo story???) but the measurements they did on the little one yesterday suggest I'm actually about 5 days further along.
--I'm really sick and uncomfortable. Eating is a chore or an impossibility. I have not thrown up yet, but extreme nausea is my constant and unavoidable companion.
--I still have the pulling and pressure feelings, which evidently, are normal signs that my uterine ligaments are stretching, preparing for the bodily changes of pregnancy (hmmmm....okay)
--This 15-year long vegetarian is finally constipated. My normal "3 times a day!" routine has stopped up (literally) at a prolonged and rather eventful once a day visit to the throne.
--I can't maintain a stable body temperature. It's like I'm reptilian and I'm always ducking for a blanket, hood or extra sweater because I'm too cold. Just when I feel like I'm comfortable, I'll get a hot flash and I'm stripping off clothes like $1 bills are waiting at the end of the stage. It's not pretty.
So, everything is fine for now--baby is progressing healthily and I'm doing (relatively) well. Adam is a constant support, although his departure this week for 6 months of training has been difficult to swallow. We are toying seriously with the idea of my moving out to Virginia for the duration of the pregnancy after the New Year, but this still remains to be seen. My boss was totally cool when I told him everything yesterday, and he said I'd still have a job come July when I was back in town and ready to work, so I'm thrilled by that. Now I just have to sit down with Ads and figure everything out. Oh yea, and come up with a name. I'm fond of Wee Willie for now. And no, we're not going to find out the sex of Wee Willie. He or she will just have to deal with that name until s/he is born.
Bye now.
Sweet Suite
Last Wednesday I went with my coworkers on a company retreat to the Wisconsin Dells, a resort area outside of Madison, WI. The Dells are known for having the world's largest waterpark, but I was not keen on donning a bathing suit in front of my boss and colleagues, so I opted out of packing it.
The real delight of the trip for me was the magnificent hotel room we got. My coworker Mary and I decided to room together, which was a fortuitous decision. Since there were two of us, we got the suite of all suites. This room, which normally runs for $1500/night, came equipped with a full kitchen, living room, hot tub, flat screen tv and fireplace in every room (so 3 of each total) and private bathrooms for each bedroom. Mary had two queen beds and I had a king. It was definitely a sweet suite.
Unfortunately, I was unable to partake in the hot tub, for reasons I'll lay out in the next post, but it was a great time anyhow.
The real delight of the trip for me was the magnificent hotel room we got. My coworker Mary and I decided to room together, which was a fortuitous decision. Since there were two of us, we got the suite of all suites. This room, which normally runs for $1500/night, came equipped with a full kitchen, living room, hot tub, flat screen tv and fireplace in every room (so 3 of each total) and private bathrooms for each bedroom. Mary had two queen beds and I had a king. It was definitely a sweet suite.
Unfortunately, I was unable to partake in the hot tub, for reasons I'll lay out in the next post, but it was a great time anyhow.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Your Sh*& DOES Stink And Your Hands Are Dirty, Too!
I've been absolutely dying to write this post, thinking about it for days and days, turning it over in my mind. Why? Well, first I love the title (I conjured that one up a few days ago and have lovingly let it marinade in my my head ever since). Years ago, when Adam and I first started dating, he made a comment about a guy he knew who "walked around like his sh*% doesn't stink." I had never heard that expression before and just about fell over laughing. It's been one of my favorites of all time (a new favorite is "He totally threw me under the bus"--the imagery of that). Anyway, just seeing some arrogant little punk of a guy walking around (in my mind, he's walking around like he has a pole up his butt) thinking his crap smells like roses is one of those thoughts that can totally make up for a bad day. But then again, this is me we're talking about. I love potty humor.
So, I write this post not to go on an on about nameless arrogant little men with unreasonable expectations about the aromatic quality of their feces; no, I write this because of the many arrogant men and women who have unreasonable expectations about the sanitary quality of their hands after using the bathroom. I now have evidenced countless women (and the ones at my job are scientists no less!) who decide they do not need to do a good soapy bubble-up of the hands under a running tap after using the facilities. Who are these people? Well, I shall not name names, so as to protect the guilty, but let me give you an idea of the types of people we're talking about:
--A woman I know whose passion is fighting for women's equality in society, the law, and the environment, but evidently not for her fellow woman's hygiene in the bathroom
--Countless female scientists in my current job who study bacteria, fungi and other microorganisms for their graduate/faculty research. Have any of these ladies ever taken a swab of their hands and put it under the microscope?
--For fear that I would not hold gross men accountable for their unsanitary behaviors, I know guys who avoid washing their hands after holding their "junk" to urinate. Direct contact with the pottying behavior necessitates hand-washing, in my opinion.
In other potty-related behaviors, past visits to bathrooms across campus have resulted in my friends or I seeing any number of the following:
--A woman standing ON TOP of the toilet seat, squatting over it to urinate or whatever it was she was doing. I will mention that she was Asian, and I know (from experience) that many nations throughout the world don't have actual toilets to do one's business in; oftentimes, it's a glorified hole in the ground. So, I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt when I was told this story, but sorry, it's still kinda weird. Oh, and how did my friend actually observe said individual? The toilet-top-squatter hadn't bothered to close the door to the stall, either.
--Speaking of which, I went to pay a visit to the facilities, one day right after quittin' time (~5:30pm), and when I walked in, the stall immediately ahead of me was half-open. As I pushed the stall door to walk in, the occupant (yes, there was one) angrily pushed the door back in my face! Okay, so why would one assume that they can leave the door to their toilet stall open at 5:30pm on a workday? Obviously there would still be people around. And to top it off, she slammed that stall door in my face as though it were my fault!
--My good friend Kate once told me that it's her pet peeve to hear people groaning, moaning, sighing or expressing some other verbal irritation while next to her toilet stall. At the time, I just laughed, but I have since been witness to said vocalizations and totally understand her annoyance with them. There's just something none-too-pleasant about a ker-PLUNK! in the toilet and an accompanying "ahhhhhhhh...."
BUT the story of all stories, was one told by my good friend, affectionately know as "V". I love this story on many levels. First, V. was pretty young (~22 or so?) when she first told it to me, and I remember her wide-eyed disgust and incomprehension of how someone could do something so vile. Second, the vile quality of this story is so high that I wish I could claim I witnessed it. But, this is V's story. Anyway, V and I used to work together a few years ago. One day she came to my office with a stricken look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong, she said she'd just come back from the bathroom. She said that the secretary had taken quite a bit of the departmental mail with her into the bathroom. Let me rephrase that, the secretary had taken the mail with her into the stall. V said disgustedly, "She put it all on the floor of the stall, and then she started sorting through the stacks and stacks of mail while she was on the toilet! I was in the stall next to hers so I would see her reach down and open some of it, and then sort through the rest of it. While she was on the toilet!" I asked V if the secretary washed her hands after but she just looked at me half sick.
That is my favorite potty story by far. I've been waiting quite a while to write about the "overly ambitious secretary" who can't even give herself a few minutes away from her work to potty. That gal deserves a raise!
So folks, the take-home message here isn't to gross you out (well, maybe it was a little) or offend, but to remind you that you're not the only one out there in the world. There might be someone who wants to open up their own, fecal-free mail. So kids, wash your hands.
So, I write this post not to go on an on about nameless arrogant little men with unreasonable expectations about the aromatic quality of their feces; no, I write this because of the many arrogant men and women who have unreasonable expectations about the sanitary quality of their hands after using the bathroom. I now have evidenced countless women (and the ones at my job are scientists no less!) who decide they do not need to do a good soapy bubble-up of the hands under a running tap after using the facilities. Who are these people? Well, I shall not name names, so as to protect the guilty, but let me give you an idea of the types of people we're talking about:
--A woman I know whose passion is fighting for women's equality in society, the law, and the environment, but evidently not for her fellow woman's hygiene in the bathroom
--Countless female scientists in my current job who study bacteria, fungi and other microorganisms for their graduate/faculty research. Have any of these ladies ever taken a swab of their hands and put it under the microscope?
--For fear that I would not hold gross men accountable for their unsanitary behaviors, I know guys who avoid washing their hands after holding their "junk" to urinate. Direct contact with the pottying behavior necessitates hand-washing, in my opinion.
In other potty-related behaviors, past visits to bathrooms across campus have resulted in my friends or I seeing any number of the following:
--A woman standing ON TOP of the toilet seat, squatting over it to urinate or whatever it was she was doing. I will mention that she was Asian, and I know (from experience) that many nations throughout the world don't have actual toilets to do one's business in; oftentimes, it's a glorified hole in the ground. So, I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt when I was told this story, but sorry, it's still kinda weird. Oh, and how did my friend actually observe said individual? The toilet-top-squatter hadn't bothered to close the door to the stall, either.
--Speaking of which, I went to pay a visit to the facilities, one day right after quittin' time (~5:30pm), and when I walked in, the stall immediately ahead of me was half-open. As I pushed the stall door to walk in, the occupant (yes, there was one) angrily pushed the door back in my face! Okay, so why would one assume that they can leave the door to their toilet stall open at 5:30pm on a workday? Obviously there would still be people around. And to top it off, she slammed that stall door in my face as though it were my fault!
--My good friend Kate once told me that it's her pet peeve to hear people groaning, moaning, sighing or expressing some other verbal irritation while next to her toilet stall. At the time, I just laughed, but I have since been witness to said vocalizations and totally understand her annoyance with them. There's just something none-too-pleasant about a ker-PLUNK! in the toilet and an accompanying "ahhhhhhhh...."
BUT the story of all stories, was one told by my good friend, affectionately know as "V". I love this story on many levels. First, V. was pretty young (~22 or so?) when she first told it to me, and I remember her wide-eyed disgust and incomprehension of how someone could do something so vile. Second, the vile quality of this story is so high that I wish I could claim I witnessed it. But, this is V's story. Anyway, V and I used to work together a few years ago. One day she came to my office with a stricken look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong, she said she'd just come back from the bathroom. She said that the secretary had taken quite a bit of the departmental mail with her into the bathroom. Let me rephrase that, the secretary had taken the mail with her into the stall. V said disgustedly, "She put it all on the floor of the stall, and then she started sorting through the stacks and stacks of mail while she was on the toilet! I was in the stall next to hers so I would see her reach down and open some of it, and then sort through the rest of it. While she was on the toilet!" I asked V if the secretary washed her hands after but she just looked at me half sick.
That is my favorite potty story by far. I've been waiting quite a while to write about the "overly ambitious secretary" who can't even give herself a few minutes away from her work to potty. That gal deserves a raise!
So folks, the take-home message here isn't to gross you out (well, maybe it was a little) or offend, but to remind you that you're not the only one out there in the world. There might be someone who wants to open up their own, fecal-free mail. So kids, wash your hands.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Happy Early Birthday Wishes...
...to my wonderful nephew and his equally wonderful dad, my big brother. So, happy 2nd birthday, Alex! And happy hmm-hmmm, Walt!
October Oddities
Apologies for the lack of posts of late; I've been pretty exhausted when I get home from work and just don't have the energy to think of many creative, thoughtful, or funny things to write about. Well, actually, that's not exactly true; I think of funny things quite often (there's a bathroom story that I can't wait to find time to write about!), but actually putting fingers to keyboard seems to be the limiting factor these days.
In any case, this weekend we are heading south to Kentucky. This time we are skirting Louisville in favor of the Lexington area. The youth organization that Adam volunteers for has its headquarters based down there now, and we were invited to go down with friends for the weekend to check out the new (well, actually quite old) digs. It's an old military school that was abandoned some years ago, and has been sitting, empty ever since. I believe it was built in the 1840s.
I'm most excited about going because there are supposedly several ghosts that haunt the property. Two little kids (a girl and boy), an older man and a younger woman, if I have the details correct. The former cook who used to work at the school when it was still open, has an appropriately creepy story (just in time for Halloween!): She walked into work one morning to get breakfast started for the students and staff. She believed herself to be the only person in the kitchen that morning, but soon after she arrived, a voice said, "My! You're here early!" When she swung around to identify the voice, no one was there. I Love It! Just my type of shiver-inducing creepiness! Others have heard the sounds of children laughing while running up and down the stairs, only to see no one there. While my tune might change upon an actual encounter, I can't help but feel a really macabre desire to see a ghost this weekend. I just hope I don't bring one home with us!
Have a good weekend, all, and if you should never hear from me again, well, you'll know why.
In any case, this weekend we are heading south to Kentucky. This time we are skirting Louisville in favor of the Lexington area. The youth organization that Adam volunteers for has its headquarters based down there now, and we were invited to go down with friends for the weekend to check out the new (well, actually quite old) digs. It's an old military school that was abandoned some years ago, and has been sitting, empty ever since. I believe it was built in the 1840s.
I'm most excited about going because there are supposedly several ghosts that haunt the property. Two little kids (a girl and boy), an older man and a younger woman, if I have the details correct. The former cook who used to work at the school when it was still open, has an appropriately creepy story (just in time for Halloween!): She walked into work one morning to get breakfast started for the students and staff. She believed herself to be the only person in the kitchen that morning, but soon after she arrived, a voice said, "My! You're here early!" When she swung around to identify the voice, no one was there. I Love It! Just my type of shiver-inducing creepiness! Others have heard the sounds of children laughing while running up and down the stairs, only to see no one there. While my tune might change upon an actual encounter, I can't help but feel a really macabre desire to see a ghost this weekend. I just hope I don't bring one home with us!
Have a good weekend, all, and if you should never hear from me again, well, you'll know why.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
One Year
Today is the one year anniversary of saying good-bye to our girl, Shabbi. We miss her still so very much, and think of (and cry for) her often. Her life meant so much to so many, and we are grateful that we were able to be a part of it. We're even more thankful to have had her add so much to ours.
Shabbi, you will be forever missed, but never forgotten.
Much love
Daddy, Mum, and Kika
Shabbi, you will be forever missed, but never forgotten.
Much love
Daddy, Mum, and Kika
Friday, October 3, 2008
Children of the Corn
Have you ever actually seen that movie? It's really bad; one of the worst I've seen, really, but it's always a good movie reference for a day like today.
The second half of my workday was spent with my field crew traversing large, dried up cornfields. We were searching (yes, because my summer field crew lost them) for our sampling equipment. We need to get it out of these cornfields ASAP before the landowners start to harvest; the last thing we need is some huge turbine chucking a metal post into someone's eye. Yeah, that would be bad.
So in the cornfield we were today. It was a little creepy, like Corn Maze creepy. Like you know nothing is going to get you in there, but just the sound of the corn sweeping over you as you walk makes your skin crawl. There were more than a few times that I think I jumped out of my skin because I was sure I saw the Corn Monster or some other completely ridiculous made-up icon of lore.
But today, we truly were The Children of the Corn.
The second half of my workday was spent with my field crew traversing large, dried up cornfields. We were searching (yes, because my summer field crew lost them) for our sampling equipment. We need to get it out of these cornfields ASAP before the landowners start to harvest; the last thing we need is some huge turbine chucking a metal post into someone's eye. Yeah, that would be bad.
So in the cornfield we were today. It was a little creepy, like Corn Maze creepy. Like you know nothing is going to get you in there, but just the sound of the corn sweeping over you as you walk makes your skin crawl. There were more than a few times that I think I jumped out of my skin because I was sure I saw the Corn Monster or some other completely ridiculous made-up icon of lore.
But today, we truly were The Children of the Corn.
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