I am a happy woman again. Adam is home as of this evening. We had a nice meal--I made vegetable biryani from scratch--and we watched a movie we've been anxiously waiting to view (animated "Wonder Woman").
In true Adam-Lauren form, we are back to our old routine of Ads cracking farts and me complaining. Then he giggles and says a raspy little "sorry" before accusing me of feeding him too much dairy (he's rather lactose intolerant). I am flatulence intolerant.
Life is indeed back to normal. Oh yeah, he also felt baby kicking the hell outta my abdomen this evening, so he has some appreciation for what I've been dealing with the last several months. However, while I am in constant pain and discomfort (through the wonder of it all), he just keeps saying, "It's like there's an alien in your belly!" He's watched too many Sigourney Weaver movies, I think.
Good night.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Give 'Em The Slip
This post is coming a little late, but the last week has been exhausting between 11-hour work days, prenatal classes, yoga classes, and taking Kika to the park (not to mention anxiously awaiting Adam's arrival home). However, I couldn't neglect to blog about my friend Daniela's visit to Michigan, where she did a bang-up job of taking care of my obstinate butt!
I tried to wine and dine her as much as possible while she was in town; while i appreciated her grand efforts to take care of me, I wanted her to have a bit of a holiday while she was in town, too. Not that this little town has much in the way of sight-seeing, but at least she got to live in my world for a wee time. We spent her first night in town seeing our minor league team, the Lansing Lugnuts, get their arses handed to them on a tray by the visiting team. Meanwhile, an obnoxious 10-year old screamed, burped and cheered for the opposing side just behind us the entire game, encouraged by his equally obnoxious family. I actually had to turn around at one point and tell him to can it...ever so politely.
Saturday I took her to the greenhouse where I volunteer on the weekend, and she had the chance to see the beginnings of this year's vegetable garden, in the making. I'm in the process of germinating seeds for eventual transplant. Later that night, we met up with a couple girlfriends to do dinner and drinks at PF Chang's. Daniela had surprised me with an awesome dress that she thought might look fabulous over my pregger belly, and boy was she right! It fit perfectly and the colors were great. After donning a pair of heels to match, we were ready for a night on the town. Halfway through dinner, I had the insatiable urge to excuse myself to the ladies' room for a now-ritualistic pee break. As I was walking, I had the thought that the floors underfoot seemed awfully slippery, so I walked slowly and gently to the bathroom, fortunately avoiding any accident. On the way back to the table, however, despite my best efforts, my right foot slipped from underneath me, and I ended up crash-landing on my right hip bone. Of course, the restaurant of patrons saw the big pregnant lady fall, and everyone was pretty much aghast. How humiliating. I had to assure them all that I was fine--actually, I had already prepared myself for this eventuality, so I fell on me, not the baby--and immediately got up and walked slowly but confidently to my table. Immediately after, I ordered a glass of Pinot Noir.
We girls at PF Changs...before the big slip-up...
Daniela coo-ing with Greg House
Sunday, I took Daniela to the best pancake house east of the Missisippi--Sawyer's Pancake House--and we enjoyed some blueberry flapjacks. Actually, she enjoyed those while I suffered through a new breakfast entree that didn't quite do it for me. In the future, I'll know to stick with the tried and true. We picked up the stroller that Ads and I had picked out at Xmas at Baby Depot, and then she helped me organize all my baby gifts so I can finally get around to those thank you cards. Daniela was a huge help to me.
She was rewarded for her efforts by having her flight cancelled on Sunday evening, so she improved her chances of attaining patron sainthood by preparing a gourmet meal for me, complete with bread and dipping sauce, salad, tortellini in carbonara sauce and marionberry pie. Okay, so we bought the pie, but it was still an awesome meal...
So, here's a shout out to my girl Daniela. There is a reason I still keep in touch with you after all these years, honey.
I tried to wine and dine her as much as possible while she was in town; while i appreciated her grand efforts to take care of me, I wanted her to have a bit of a holiday while she was in town, too. Not that this little town has much in the way of sight-seeing, but at least she got to live in my world for a wee time. We spent her first night in town seeing our minor league team, the Lansing Lugnuts, get their arses handed to them on a tray by the visiting team. Meanwhile, an obnoxious 10-year old screamed, burped and cheered for the opposing side just behind us the entire game, encouraged by his equally obnoxious family. I actually had to turn around at one point and tell him to can it...ever so politely.
Saturday I took her to the greenhouse where I volunteer on the weekend, and she had the chance to see the beginnings of this year's vegetable garden, in the making. I'm in the process of germinating seeds for eventual transplant. Later that night, we met up with a couple girlfriends to do dinner and drinks at PF Chang's. Daniela had surprised me with an awesome dress that she thought might look fabulous over my pregger belly, and boy was she right! It fit perfectly and the colors were great. After donning a pair of heels to match, we were ready for a night on the town. Halfway through dinner, I had the insatiable urge to excuse myself to the ladies' room for a now-ritualistic pee break. As I was walking, I had the thought that the floors underfoot seemed awfully slippery, so I walked slowly and gently to the bathroom, fortunately avoiding any accident. On the way back to the table, however, despite my best efforts, my right foot slipped from underneath me, and I ended up crash-landing on my right hip bone. Of course, the restaurant of patrons saw the big pregnant lady fall, and everyone was pretty much aghast. How humiliating. I had to assure them all that I was fine--actually, I had already prepared myself for this eventuality, so I fell on me, not the baby--and immediately got up and walked slowly but confidently to my table. Immediately after, I ordered a glass of Pinot Noir.
We girls at PF Changs...before the big slip-up...
Daniela coo-ing with Greg House
Sunday, I took Daniela to the best pancake house east of the Missisippi--Sawyer's Pancake House--and we enjoyed some blueberry flapjacks. Actually, she enjoyed those while I suffered through a new breakfast entree that didn't quite do it for me. In the future, I'll know to stick with the tried and true. We picked up the stroller that Ads and I had picked out at Xmas at Baby Depot, and then she helped me organize all my baby gifts so I can finally get around to those thank you cards. Daniela was a huge help to me.
She was rewarded for her efforts by having her flight cancelled on Sunday evening, so she improved her chances of attaining patron sainthood by preparing a gourmet meal for me, complete with bread and dipping sauce, salad, tortellini in carbonara sauce and marionberry pie. Okay, so we bought the pie, but it was still an awesome meal...
So, here's a shout out to my girl Daniela. There is a reason I still keep in touch with you after all these years, honey.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
His Moral Compass
I just got off the phone with Adam and talked him into letting me post this little story on the blog. I think it's hilarious; evidently he does too, or else he wouldn't have called me in the midst of a five-hour hike through the forest to relay the details to me.
So without going into too much detail, Adam's in his last week of basic training, and he is required to pass a navigation test in a large forest, where he takes compass bearings, plots points on a map and has to navigate to those points to find a number that he'll pick up. Easy enough, right? Well, five straight hours of fast walking/hiking through the woods (on his bum ankle, no less) isn't exactly the easiest task to complete. Keep in mind he and his comerades are under several layers (not to mention pounds!) of uniform and equipment during the hike, so they're carrying around quite a heavy load.
In any case, this morning, just as Ads was getting to one of his points, he realized he needed to take a leak. He walked off the beaten path, relieved himself, and was just starting to button back up when he heard a small voice nearby yelp, "Help!"
He got himself situated then ventured off to find the source of the voice. He encountered a female comerade, who'd evidently had the same idea as he did--peeing off to the side--but wasn't nearly as successful at it. Evidently, she had tried to lean against a fallen tree in order to balance herself during her pee break, but the tree sloped down into a ravine, the ravine was wet and slippery from recent rains, and the woman had lost her balance and fallen over. Fallen over...pants down and all.
Ads said the forest was dark and so there was nothing to see, and he avoided his gaze anyway (husband speak for "you don't need to know what I saw!"). He helped the young woman to her feet, trying to lessen her embarassment over the situation. Luckily, they didn't know each other (that would have been so much worse, at least I think it would have been for me if I'd been in the same situation!). Ads then went on his way to complete the test and called me to tell me his funny story for the morning. He says I owe him big time for letting me put this story on the blog. He comes home in four days; I guess I'll see how he'll make me pay up *smirk*
So without going into too much detail, Adam's in his last week of basic training, and he is required to pass a navigation test in a large forest, where he takes compass bearings, plots points on a map and has to navigate to those points to find a number that he'll pick up. Easy enough, right? Well, five straight hours of fast walking/hiking through the woods (on his bum ankle, no less) isn't exactly the easiest task to complete. Keep in mind he and his comerades are under several layers (not to mention pounds!) of uniform and equipment during the hike, so they're carrying around quite a heavy load.
In any case, this morning, just as Ads was getting to one of his points, he realized he needed to take a leak. He walked off the beaten path, relieved himself, and was just starting to button back up when he heard a small voice nearby yelp, "Help!"
He got himself situated then ventured off to find the source of the voice. He encountered a female comerade, who'd evidently had the same idea as he did--peeing off to the side--but wasn't nearly as successful at it. Evidently, she had tried to lean against a fallen tree in order to balance herself during her pee break, but the tree sloped down into a ravine, the ravine was wet and slippery from recent rains, and the woman had lost her balance and fallen over. Fallen over...pants down and all.
Ads said the forest was dark and so there was nothing to see, and he avoided his gaze anyway (husband speak for "you don't need to know what I saw!"). He helped the young woman to her feet, trying to lessen her embarassment over the situation. Luckily, they didn't know each other (that would have been so much worse, at least I think it would have been for me if I'd been in the same situation!). Ads then went on his way to complete the test and called me to tell me his funny story for the morning. He says I owe him big time for letting me put this story on the blog. He comes home in four days; I guess I'll see how he'll make me pay up *smirk*
Noxious Fumes
I will describe my weekend with my girlfriend Daniela as soon as I can get my laptop at home to reconnect to the internet, in which case I can upload a few pix from our Grrrls Adventure onto the blog. But, in the meantime, just to keep folks a wee bit entertained, I thought I'd blog about the events of last night.
I got home from a relatively quickly-passing day at work to the distinct smell of foulness emanating from somewhere in the house. My first thought was that Kika had laid a dump and not followed it up with her customary ritual of eating it afterward. I was so overwhelmed by the stink that I immediately took her outside to do her business, gulping some fresh air down before I had to re-enter the house and deal with the funk. Once inside, the noxious smell once again filled my nostrils and I quickly canvassed the house, desperately looking for the source of the offending odor. Nothing. I finally found a small puddle of urine where Kiks had relieved herself at some point during my workday, but after cleaning it up, I realized the foul odor was stronger than ever. Where was it coming from??? I checked the kitchen garbage, hoping I'd thrown something away that could quickly be tied up and thrown outside, but the garbage was no more offensive than usual. My thoughts drifted to other possibilities, including the least of which I wanted to deal with--a dead animal. With Greg House living with us, we didn't have sign of even one mouse this past winter (highly unusual for our almost 100-year old house, and the first time we haven't had a mouse in the seven years we've lived there). So, maybe he'd gotten a mouse but hadn't fully consumed it; thoughts of mutilated, half-chawed mouse remains scattered throughout my house filled my head.
I didn't have much time to give it too much thought as I had to leave for my yoga class. I had hopes that the smell would have dissipated by the time I came back home. No such luck; two and half hours later, the stench was strong as ever. I was still stumped by what could have caused it, but at 9:30 at night, too tired to give much care to it. I settled onto the couch to talk to Ads for a few moments before tuning into my Monday night junk food tv--"Medium." Kika was by my side, curled up in a tight ball, sleeping peacefully, while Greg House sat on the opposite couch, licking himself and finally settling into a peaceful slumber. All was well until a sudden waft of offensive odor penetrated my nostrils. It was like a ramped-up version of what I'd been smelling all evening. I sat up--what the...? I realized Kika was letting loose some farts that would have cracked the fault line wide open. And she didn't stop. And she was cracking them in her sleep! Could it be that it was Kika's farts I'd been smelling in the house the whole time? No eleven pound dog could really stink up an entire house that badly, could she?
I woke up this morning to the same smell in the house, just to a lesser degree. Kika had been in bed with me all night, but I didn't notice any dutch oven effects during the night, so I have no idea what's going on. Maybe I'd better start sniffing around Greg House...
I got home from a relatively quickly-passing day at work to the distinct smell of foulness emanating from somewhere in the house. My first thought was that Kika had laid a dump and not followed it up with her customary ritual of eating it afterward. I was so overwhelmed by the stink that I immediately took her outside to do her business, gulping some fresh air down before I had to re-enter the house and deal with the funk. Once inside, the noxious smell once again filled my nostrils and I quickly canvassed the house, desperately looking for the source of the offending odor. Nothing. I finally found a small puddle of urine where Kiks had relieved herself at some point during my workday, but after cleaning it up, I realized the foul odor was stronger than ever. Where was it coming from??? I checked the kitchen garbage, hoping I'd thrown something away that could quickly be tied up and thrown outside, but the garbage was no more offensive than usual. My thoughts drifted to other possibilities, including the least of which I wanted to deal with--a dead animal. With Greg House living with us, we didn't have sign of even one mouse this past winter (highly unusual for our almost 100-year old house, and the first time we haven't had a mouse in the seven years we've lived there). So, maybe he'd gotten a mouse but hadn't fully consumed it; thoughts of mutilated, half-chawed mouse remains scattered throughout my house filled my head.
I didn't have much time to give it too much thought as I had to leave for my yoga class. I had hopes that the smell would have dissipated by the time I came back home. No such luck; two and half hours later, the stench was strong as ever. I was still stumped by what could have caused it, but at 9:30 at night, too tired to give much care to it. I settled onto the couch to talk to Ads for a few moments before tuning into my Monday night junk food tv--"Medium." Kika was by my side, curled up in a tight ball, sleeping peacefully, while Greg House sat on the opposite couch, licking himself and finally settling into a peaceful slumber. All was well until a sudden waft of offensive odor penetrated my nostrils. It was like a ramped-up version of what I'd been smelling all evening. I sat up--what the...? I realized Kika was letting loose some farts that would have cracked the fault line wide open. And she didn't stop. And she was cracking them in her sleep! Could it be that it was Kika's farts I'd been smelling in the house the whole time? No eleven pound dog could really stink up an entire house that badly, could she?
I woke up this morning to the same smell in the house, just to a lesser degree. Kika had been in bed with me all night, but I didn't notice any dutch oven effects during the night, so I have no idea what's going on. Maybe I'd better start sniffing around Greg House...
Friday, April 17, 2009
Splendor In The Grass(lands)
Yesterday, my coworker Ben and I headed out into the field to start collecting GPS bearings for the study sites our field crew will be sampling this summer. We also visited a couple prairie sites, taking out sampling equipment from last summer. It was a beautiful day--mid to high 60s and full sunshine--and I couldn't have been happier to be traipsing around a Michigan prairie for hours on end, looking for obscure white stakes. In the end, I found that the hardest part about conducting fieldwork while pregnant is that one must consume vast quantities of water to keep hydrated; however this also forces one to stop every 15-20 minutes at seedy gas station bathrooms to relieve oneself. I really wish David Sedaris would market his Stadium Pal idea to women, too; it could really help a sistah out, man! Ben was a good sport, stopping off the highway everytime I needed to go; but then again, I guess really he didn't have any other choice...!
I asked him to take some shots of me in the field as evidence to my future child that even at 8 1/2 months preggers, his/her mum could still rock it out!
My guess is that it's the nest of a sparrow species, but I'm not sure?
Checking it out for eggs...not a one!
After 2 1/2 hours walking through prairie, I'm ready to head back to the truck and grab some water!
I asked him to take some shots of me in the field as evidence to my future child that even at 8 1/2 months preggers, his/her mum could still rock it out!
My guess is that it's the nest of a sparrow species, but I'm not sure?
Checking it out for eggs...not a one!
After 2 1/2 hours walking through prairie, I'm ready to head back to the truck and grab some water!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
On The Flip Side
So tonight I got the third opinion (and actually a fourth, as two of the midwives were examining me), and they are certain that baby is indeed head-down, all ready for a regular delivery. I'm very glad to know that; although having a breech baby for the next few weeks might have made me feel like I had gotten the "complete pregnancy experience," the thought that baby might not turn back around in time for delivery was not appealing. So...good, baby! You're already listening to what your mum tells you!
In other news, last night Kika peed on the dining room floor right in front of me. To top it off, I was paying bills, had just finished watching last week's episode of "House" (still won't ruin it for those who saw it, but it's a tearjerker!), and had also just finished watching Susan Boyles stun the smirk off of Britain's collective faces with her beautiful bravatto. So, in any case, I was already near tears as I was writing out the check to the power company; hearing the none-too-welcome sound of pee hitting floor did nothing to pick up my spirits. I was p-ssed! I yelled at her then picked her up and made her go outside. I dropped her a little too far from the ground, though, and I think I sprained her little leg because she was limping the rest of the night, which made me want to cry even more, so I snuggled with my little 14-year old in bed for the rest of the night. Today, she pooped her way through two diapers. I had to bathe her each time, so now she's smelling of peppermint shampoo while I deliberate doing a load of laundry before bed.
*sigh*
I don't think I have anything left to say. Good night.
In other news, last night Kika peed on the dining room floor right in front of me. To top it off, I was paying bills, had just finished watching last week's episode of "House" (still won't ruin it for those who saw it, but it's a tearjerker!), and had also just finished watching Susan Boyles stun the smirk off of Britain's collective faces with her beautiful bravatto. So, in any case, I was already near tears as I was writing out the check to the power company; hearing the none-too-welcome sound of pee hitting floor did nothing to pick up my spirits. I was p-ssed! I yelled at her then picked her up and made her go outside. I dropped her a little too far from the ground, though, and I think I sprained her little leg because she was limping the rest of the night, which made me want to cry even more, so I snuggled with my little 14-year old in bed for the rest of the night. Today, she pooped her way through two diapers. I had to bathe her each time, so now she's smelling of peppermint shampoo while I deliberate doing a load of laundry before bed.
*sigh*
I don't think I have anything left to say. Good night.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Never Been Kissed
In case you haven't seen this yet, it's gotten over 3 million hits on YouTube in the last week...and it left me in (happy) tears...check it out!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY
Sunday, April 12, 2009
You've Got To Move It, Move It
Originally, I was going to title this post "Might Our Baby Have Butt Feet?" because I had noticed in recent days/weeks that I can feel kicking on both sides of my belly. I was starting to get nervous because if baby was indeed in the correct position for delivery (which it has been for the last 8+ months), then I should have only felt kicking on my right side. Needless to say I've been a bit confused, able only to come to the conclusion that Baby Mittman must have an extra set of feet attached to its butt, which would explain all the kicking on the left side of my abdomen.
Well, I had a visit to the birth center today, and the presence of butt feet is just the beginning (if you can imagine that!)! While midwife Sandra thought baby was in the same (correct) position, midwife Clarice did a lot of pressing and fondling of my belly, only to surmise that "baby's position is suspicious"! She couldn't get a clear feeling for the head, so she's not sure that baby is head-down anymore, although she got the best reading on the heartbeat in the area of my belly where baby's chest would be if indeed, it was positioned correctly. However, we are going to get a third opinion--Kip's--on Wednesday to rule out the possibility of a breech baby. I was pretty disappointed by the thought but not altogether surprised. This past Saturday, while at a friend's birthday party, I squealed a bit when severe abdominal pain and a protruding joint/appendage occurred just above my belly button. At the time I wondered if it were possible that baby had decided to make a command decision and move from one cramped position to yet another. But continued kicking in the upper and lower right quadrants of my belly settled any fears. However, Clarice said that kicking on the right side "doesn't impress [her]." Turns out that baby could still be breech if s/he is a jacknifed in my uterus, with feet still positioned on the right (oh joy! Lots of squatting and belly rocking in my future to get baby to move back into proper delivery position). Guess we'll have to wait and see. If Kip can't make a firm determination on Wednesday, I might have to get that second ultrasound after all--a pretty little picture for all to see. I'll be sure to post it on the blog.
Oh, and as for the butt feet? Turns out all that left-side activity wasn't actually kicking at all. Baby was hiccuping. Too much amniotic fluid at the uterine martini bar last weekend--s/he doesn't handle hangovers very well.
This is normal positioning for a baby in utero, and what I'm still hoping Baby Mitt is in.
Here are some of the possible breech positions...look at that jackknife--flexible baby!
Here's just a weird photo to skeeve you a bit
Well, I had a visit to the birth center today, and the presence of butt feet is just the beginning (if you can imagine that!)! While midwife Sandra thought baby was in the same (correct) position, midwife Clarice did a lot of pressing and fondling of my belly, only to surmise that "baby's position is suspicious"! She couldn't get a clear feeling for the head, so she's not sure that baby is head-down anymore, although she got the best reading on the heartbeat in the area of my belly where baby's chest would be if indeed, it was positioned correctly. However, we are going to get a third opinion--Kip's--on Wednesday to rule out the possibility of a breech baby. I was pretty disappointed by the thought but not altogether surprised. This past Saturday, while at a friend's birthday party, I squealed a bit when severe abdominal pain and a protruding joint/appendage occurred just above my belly button. At the time I wondered if it were possible that baby had decided to make a command decision and move from one cramped position to yet another. But continued kicking in the upper and lower right quadrants of my belly settled any fears. However, Clarice said that kicking on the right side "doesn't impress [her]." Turns out that baby could still be breech if s/he is a jacknifed in my uterus, with feet still positioned on the right (oh joy! Lots of squatting and belly rocking in my future to get baby to move back into proper delivery position). Guess we'll have to wait and see. If Kip can't make a firm determination on Wednesday, I might have to get that second ultrasound after all--a pretty little picture for all to see. I'll be sure to post it on the blog.
Oh, and as for the butt feet? Turns out all that left-side activity wasn't actually kicking at all. Baby was hiccuping. Too much amniotic fluid at the uterine martini bar last weekend--s/he doesn't handle hangovers very well.
This is normal positioning for a baby in utero, and what I'm still hoping Baby Mitt is in.
Here are some of the possible breech positions...look at that jackknife--flexible baby!
Here's just a weird photo to skeeve you a bit
Thursday, April 9, 2009
And This Too Shall Pass
I'm down to 16 days left before Adam returns home, and I'm starting to get a little perspective on my feelings about his being gone. Even though there is so little time remaining, I find that I miss him more than ever now, and get a bit closer to having breakdowns during the thick of things. Like, say, when my back hurts and he's not around to rub it; or when I really don't want to have to change the bed linens because it is really hard to move the bed away from the wall these days; or when I just utterly miss his company and silly grin and the smell and feel of him. I know it's just a little while longer, but somehow that makes it even harder to get through the days. Add to the fact that he's been out in the middle of Nowheresville, GA, doing field training for the week and therefore incommunicado since Monday...not even getting to hear his voice...I've been trying to keep my thoughts at bay and not lose it sometimes.
Last night I had the second installment of my birth class, and it was really really hard not having Adam there with me. My back was KILLING me throughout the entire class, and no amount of medicine balls, stretching techniques or meditation could solve it. I just wanted my guy next to me, kneading his fingers into the persistent knot that won't go away. It was extra hard when the midwife had "couples" practice birthing stances with each other; with Adam not there, Kip the midwife was my partner. At least she smelled nice and perfumey.
I've been purposely filling up my weekly schedule with all sorts of things to do to make the time pass more quickly, and to some extent it's working. But even as the days count down, somehow there are always several more ahead that we have to get through. Today I spent reading my blog from the time I started writing it (right after I'd arrived in Oregon) to the days after Adam and I had completed our cross-country trip back to Michigan. I read how I was counting down the months, weeks and then days till I would meet Adam back in California, and how hard the waiting was, even though I was living in gorgeous Oregon with two fab roommates. But the days dwindled down, and the waiting came to an end. And so this too shall pass. I know it; it always does. It's just so dang hard to wait until it does.
Last night I had the second installment of my birth class, and it was really really hard not having Adam there with me. My back was KILLING me throughout the entire class, and no amount of medicine balls, stretching techniques or meditation could solve it. I just wanted my guy next to me, kneading his fingers into the persistent knot that won't go away. It was extra hard when the midwife had "couples" practice birthing stances with each other; with Adam not there, Kip the midwife was my partner. At least she smelled nice and perfumey.
I've been purposely filling up my weekly schedule with all sorts of things to do to make the time pass more quickly, and to some extent it's working. But even as the days count down, somehow there are always several more ahead that we have to get through. Today I spent reading my blog from the time I started writing it (right after I'd arrived in Oregon) to the days after Adam and I had completed our cross-country trip back to Michigan. I read how I was counting down the months, weeks and then days till I would meet Adam back in California, and how hard the waiting was, even though I was living in gorgeous Oregon with two fab roommates. But the days dwindled down, and the waiting came to an end. And so this too shall pass. I know it; it always does. It's just so dang hard to wait until it does.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
NPR Spoiled "House"
I was livid this morning when "Morning Edition" spoiled the plotline for this week's episode of "House" (I won't spoil it for those of you who haven't seen it yet). The episode had been built up by Fox as the season-changing episode that couldn't be missed. Since I have yoga on Monday nights, I have been missing episodes as they air, but then catching up with them 8 days later on the Fox website (that's the soonest they post them online). There was a good reason for the actual story that NPR aired regarding one of the actors on the show, but rather than warn listeners that a spoiler was coming, or circumventing the details of the plotline, NPR essentially ruined the details of the entire episode. I'm spitting piss and vinegar I'm so angry; in fact, I even registered with the NPR website just so I could post comments about how angry I am. I was relieved to find that others were just as sore about the situation.
On a happier note, tonight is the first night of Passover. Happy Pesach, everyone!
On a happier note, tonight is the first night of Passover. Happy Pesach, everyone!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Half the World Still Waits
Last Friday evening, while driving home from a community activism meeting, I was listening to Public Radio International's "The World." Okay, I know that first sentence makes me sound much more tuned into things than I actually am, but I really had been at a meeting and I--of course!--was listening to a subsidiary of NPR.
As I pulled into my driveway and parked the car, I found myself having what NPR calls a "driveway moment", where you're so engrossed in a story that you actually delay getting out of your car to finish listening. Unfortunately, the stories I was listening to weren't engaging; they were revolting, chilling and completely unnerving. We all hear about the horrible things that happen in our world today; I just wasn't prepared to hear three stories in a row that seemed to break off large chunks of the progress women have made in recent decades.
The first story was one about how the Afghani prime minister, Hamid Karzai, has approved the passage of a new law that places restrictions on the rights of Shiite women. Essentially, the law would restrict women from leaving their homes without the accompaniment of their husbands, and would also force women to submit sexually to their husbands, which is akin to marital rape. The expert talking on PRI about this law is Afghani, and said that Karzai hurried the bill through the Parliament, on which several women serve, not allowing any of the Parliamentarians to actually read the terms of the bill before signing it. This rush job was to insure that the bill would pass without objection, thereby appeasing the Shiites, the ultra-conservative minority sect. The expert made a good point--many Afghans, men and women alike, object to this law. Many of them have travelled overseas, whether through study or work, and have seen the rights of women in other countries, and don't agree with the oppression of women in Afghanistan. They are determined to bring progression and modernity back to their home country, and are bound to object to this law. The concern is how long it will take before their efforts--and those of the world--make a difference.
The second story was about how yet another ultra-conservative religious sect, this time in Israel, has tried to disenfranchise the accomplishments of Israeli female Cabinet members by photoshopping their images from a photograph of the Cabinet in various newspapers. The photo of the Israeli Cabinet, on which two women serve, was tampered with because showing the image of women is considered "immodest" by Orthodox tradition. A variety of newspapers targeted at the Orthodox community blacked out the women's images altogether, while other newspapers actually inserted the images of men over those of the women. According to the article, during the campaign leading up to the Cabinet elections, campaign posters were tampered with in ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods.
The last story is possibly the worst out of the three. This one details how video shows a Palestinian girl was beaten by Sharia radicals (note: the same religious sect that prompted Hamid Karzai's bill in Afghanistan) for reportedly having an affair with a married man. Notice that the man was not beaten for infidelity.
This morning on my way into work, the last story I heard on the BBC World News before leaving my car was about a Rwandan woman who had been raped by the Hutus during the mass genocide of Tutsis in the mid-90s. She bore a child as a result of the rape, and he is now plagued by the knowledge that his existence is based upon violence and hate. The woman has been shunned by her people for having kept the pregnancy, and is haunted by the questions her son has for her, to the point of beating him when he inquires. She has no governmental or family support for the decision she made. First she was violated; now she continues to pay the price. This violation of women continues throughout the world, but most notably on a large-scale in war-torn Congo and genocide-ridden Sudan.
In a world with so much wealth, knowledge and access, how is it that we have yet to solve the long-standing plague of abuse to women's rights? Come on, world. We're waiting.
As I pulled into my driveway and parked the car, I found myself having what NPR calls a "driveway moment", where you're so engrossed in a story that you actually delay getting out of your car to finish listening. Unfortunately, the stories I was listening to weren't engaging; they were revolting, chilling and completely unnerving. We all hear about the horrible things that happen in our world today; I just wasn't prepared to hear three stories in a row that seemed to break off large chunks of the progress women have made in recent decades.
The first story was one about how the Afghani prime minister, Hamid Karzai, has approved the passage of a new law that places restrictions on the rights of Shiite women. Essentially, the law would restrict women from leaving their homes without the accompaniment of their husbands, and would also force women to submit sexually to their husbands, which is akin to marital rape. The expert talking on PRI about this law is Afghani, and said that Karzai hurried the bill through the Parliament, on which several women serve, not allowing any of the Parliamentarians to actually read the terms of the bill before signing it. This rush job was to insure that the bill would pass without objection, thereby appeasing the Shiites, the ultra-conservative minority sect. The expert made a good point--many Afghans, men and women alike, object to this law. Many of them have travelled overseas, whether through study or work, and have seen the rights of women in other countries, and don't agree with the oppression of women in Afghanistan. They are determined to bring progression and modernity back to their home country, and are bound to object to this law. The concern is how long it will take before their efforts--and those of the world--make a difference.
The second story was about how yet another ultra-conservative religious sect, this time in Israel, has tried to disenfranchise the accomplishments of Israeli female Cabinet members by photoshopping their images from a photograph of the Cabinet in various newspapers. The photo of the Israeli Cabinet, on which two women serve, was tampered with because showing the image of women is considered "immodest" by Orthodox tradition. A variety of newspapers targeted at the Orthodox community blacked out the women's images altogether, while other newspapers actually inserted the images of men over those of the women. According to the article, during the campaign leading up to the Cabinet elections, campaign posters were tampered with in ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods.
The last story is possibly the worst out of the three. This one details how video shows a Palestinian girl was beaten by Sharia radicals (note: the same religious sect that prompted Hamid Karzai's bill in Afghanistan) for reportedly having an affair with a married man. Notice that the man was not beaten for infidelity.
This morning on my way into work, the last story I heard on the BBC World News before leaving my car was about a Rwandan woman who had been raped by the Hutus during the mass genocide of Tutsis in the mid-90s. She bore a child as a result of the rape, and he is now plagued by the knowledge that his existence is based upon violence and hate. The woman has been shunned by her people for having kept the pregnancy, and is haunted by the questions her son has for her, to the point of beating him when he inquires. She has no governmental or family support for the decision she made. First she was violated; now she continues to pay the price. This violation of women continues throughout the world, but most notably on a large-scale in war-torn Congo and genocide-ridden Sudan.
In a world with so much wealth, knowledge and access, how is it that we have yet to solve the long-standing plague of abuse to women's rights? Come on, world. We're waiting.
Sympathy Pains?
So, as you've probably heard, the Spartans were pretty much bulldozed last night by the Tarheels. It was a little hard to watch, but at the end of the day, everybody played their best, and someone had to win; unfortunately, it just wasn't us. But I'm still wearing my Spartan green today to show a little love to MSU.
As soon as I went to bed last night (I couldn't bear to watch the game to the end), I started to feel some pretty bad, tight pains in my lower abdominal area. I remember from my birth class that the Braxton-Hicks contractions are usually higher up and painless; real contractions are usually lower and more painful. I started to get nervous. I absolutely cannot have this kid with Adam still out of town. Even if it means crossing my legs and biting on rags for the next 2 1/2 weeks, this baby is staying inside of me if I have anything to say about it. But, honestly, I was getting scared; no matter which way I turned, my lower abdominal region was sore. Hoping against hope that it was just the Braxton-Hicks, I decided to change positions, which is one way to help ease that type of contractions. As soon as I sat up, the pain and the tightness went away. I felt myself calm down, and after gathering my druthers, I was able to lie back down and rest. I suppose baby decided to deliver some sympathy pains last night in support of the Spartans.
As I've said in the past, I've also been plagued by violent, graphic or just plain weird dreams during this gestation period. Last night, I'm sure in reference to my fears of early labor, I had a pretty vivid dream of having the baby. I don't recall actually giving birth (that part is usually glossed over in my dreams), but I do remember the immediate aftermath of the delivery. Adam was there, and we were both shocked that we'd had a home birth unattended by the midwives. I just remember carrying the baby around, in complete awe that it was really here, and then thinking that I'd have to call into work to tell them that I'd be coming in late that morning. After awhile, I remembered that maybe I should get the kid to nurse, and it latched on right away. Ads and I were lying on the couch next to each other, and I was quietly trying to get his attention so he could witness our baby's first meal; he was instead distracted by a program on TV and I was getting a little pissy about that. Anyway, it was only after the kid stopped nursing that I finally remembered that I should ask if it was a girl or boy; Adam hadn't thought to look before then either! So I held the baby up so he could check and he confirmed that it was a girl. We smiled and tried to decide which of the names that we've come up with we'd actually use. Shortly thereafter, I started getting panicky about going to work, then realized, "hey, I just had a baby this morning...I think they'll understand if I don't come in today!" So, I confidently picked up the phone and called out of work for the day. Funny how calling the midwife never occurred to either of us...dreams!
One other weird piece--Greg House (my cat) was my old college friend Dave, and as he started to walk down the basement to use the litter box, I wondered why on earth he couldn't clean the darn thing himself, especially considering I had my hands full now.
So, Adam is due home in about 18 days, which is nothing in the grand scheme. If a delivery weren't looming on the horizon, I probably would be kicking up my girlish heels and doing all sorts of stuff with the ladies before the hubby returned. But things are different now; I don't feel like being independent anymore, I just want him home again. It's become increasingly difficult to clean Dave's--I mean Greg House's--litter box.
As soon as I went to bed last night (I couldn't bear to watch the game to the end), I started to feel some pretty bad, tight pains in my lower abdominal area. I remember from my birth class that the Braxton-Hicks contractions are usually higher up and painless; real contractions are usually lower and more painful. I started to get nervous. I absolutely cannot have this kid with Adam still out of town. Even if it means crossing my legs and biting on rags for the next 2 1/2 weeks, this baby is staying inside of me if I have anything to say about it. But, honestly, I was getting scared; no matter which way I turned, my lower abdominal region was sore. Hoping against hope that it was just the Braxton-Hicks, I decided to change positions, which is one way to help ease that type of contractions. As soon as I sat up, the pain and the tightness went away. I felt myself calm down, and after gathering my druthers, I was able to lie back down and rest. I suppose baby decided to deliver some sympathy pains last night in support of the Spartans.
As I've said in the past, I've also been plagued by violent, graphic or just plain weird dreams during this gestation period. Last night, I'm sure in reference to my fears of early labor, I had a pretty vivid dream of having the baby. I don't recall actually giving birth (that part is usually glossed over in my dreams), but I do remember the immediate aftermath of the delivery. Adam was there, and we were both shocked that we'd had a home birth unattended by the midwives. I just remember carrying the baby around, in complete awe that it was really here, and then thinking that I'd have to call into work to tell them that I'd be coming in late that morning. After awhile, I remembered that maybe I should get the kid to nurse, and it latched on right away. Ads and I were lying on the couch next to each other, and I was quietly trying to get his attention so he could witness our baby's first meal; he was instead distracted by a program on TV and I was getting a little pissy about that. Anyway, it was only after the kid stopped nursing that I finally remembered that I should ask if it was a girl or boy; Adam hadn't thought to look before then either! So I held the baby up so he could check and he confirmed that it was a girl. We smiled and tried to decide which of the names that we've come up with we'd actually use. Shortly thereafter, I started getting panicky about going to work, then realized, "hey, I just had a baby this morning...I think they'll understand if I don't come in today!" So, I confidently picked up the phone and called out of work for the day. Funny how calling the midwife never occurred to either of us...dreams!
One other weird piece--Greg House (my cat) was my old college friend Dave, and as he started to walk down the basement to use the litter box, I wondered why on earth he couldn't clean the darn thing himself, especially considering I had my hands full now.
So, Adam is due home in about 18 days, which is nothing in the grand scheme. If a delivery weren't looming on the horizon, I probably would be kicking up my girlish heels and doing all sorts of stuff with the ladies before the hubby returned. But things are different now; I don't feel like being independent anymore, I just want him home again. It's become increasingly difficult to clean Dave's--I mean Greg House's--litter box.
Monday, April 6, 2009
A Little Luck
As NPR and various other news media have been saying for the past week, the state of Michigan really needs something to be happy and proud about. Why not put that burden on the shoulders of a group of 20-year old college kids? Hoping for a little luck tonight as we root the Spartan men's basketball team on to win the NCAA finals.
Go Green! Go White!
Go Green! Go White!
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Go Green! Go White!
The Michigan State Spartans Men's basketball team won an upset game over Univ. Connecticut last night, winning 82-73. It was fantastic. I had a few friends over for sandwiches and Sparty decorated cupcakes. We have a little Spartan fan in the making...Go Green! Go White!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Being With Your New Baby? Priceless
On my way home from work this afternoon, driving with the window cranked down (yes, I have a car that has crank windows), listening to NPR's pledge drive, I was in a good mood. My work day had ended an hour early, the weather was a beautiful 60 degrees, and I was going home to pick up Kika and take her to the park. I was stoked.
I made a slight detour to the gas station to fill up, which always kind of ruins my mood a bit, because I go to the dirt cheap Admiral gas station right off the highway. It's the station that you hear about on the nightly news about three times a year because it got held up yet again. But hey, it's got the cheapest gas in town, and so it's "my station."
One of the things that annoys me the most about the place is that you can't pay at the pump. You have to go inside before you pump, even during the day, even if you're going to use a credit card. So I have to go inside, tell the dude which pump I'm on, go back outside to pump, then go back in the store to pay, then return to my car to leave. It's a pain in the proverbial arse. But...cheap gas and all...
So, today I did the drill--went inside, left my card, went outside, filled up my tank, went back in and stood in line to pay. When I finally got up to the counter, the guy took my card and swiped it, and while I stood looking out the window, I could tell from the corner of my eye that he was checking out my belly. I tried to ignore it, but his stare was so intense that I finally met his eyes. He grinned sheepishly and said, "Okay, so I'm just gonna ask...are you...?" while making a round gesture over his own belly.
I laughed and said, "Yeah, I am...I didn't get this way from eating a bunch of donuts!", which was really a guilt-filled allusion to the two huge donuts I snarfed in my car on the way to work yesterday morning.
All of a sudden, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, which he quickly placed, flipped open, on the counter in front of me. "This is my baby daughter who was just born this morning," he proudly said, pointing to the screen picture.
I stared at him, stunned. I had never met this particular employee before, but suddenly we were kindred spirits. "What?? What are you doing here?" I exclaimed before thinking.
"I had to work" he replied, matter-of-fact.
"Well, congratulations, that's awesome! Wow!" I was at a loss for words. I couldn't imagine having our baby and then Adam leaving me to go to work for the day. The day one's baby is born just seems like a sacred day, not to be missed if one can help it. Couldn't any of his coworkers fill in for him just this one day??
As I walked back out to my car, my brain started going into overdrive--what could I do so he could get to the hospital to be with his woman and their new daughter? I actually thought about volunteering to work for him, but my friend, common sense, kicked in to remind me that wouldn't work.
After wracking my brain as I pulled out of the parking lot and coming up short, it finally dawned on me that maybe he had to work not because no one could cover him, but because he needed the money. In this current economy, we all do.
So once again, I realized with gratitude how lucky I am to have Adam coming home in a few short weeks to spend the following month helping me prepare for Baby's arrival. If Adam being gone for the last six months is the price I pay for his being by my side through labor, delivery and the wondrous hours following, then so be it. It's all been worth it.
I made a slight detour to the gas station to fill up, which always kind of ruins my mood a bit, because I go to the dirt cheap Admiral gas station right off the highway. It's the station that you hear about on the nightly news about three times a year because it got held up yet again. But hey, it's got the cheapest gas in town, and so it's "my station."
One of the things that annoys me the most about the place is that you can't pay at the pump. You have to go inside before you pump, even during the day, even if you're going to use a credit card. So I have to go inside, tell the dude which pump I'm on, go back outside to pump, then go back in the store to pay, then return to my car to leave. It's a pain in the proverbial arse. But...cheap gas and all...
So, today I did the drill--went inside, left my card, went outside, filled up my tank, went back in and stood in line to pay. When I finally got up to the counter, the guy took my card and swiped it, and while I stood looking out the window, I could tell from the corner of my eye that he was checking out my belly. I tried to ignore it, but his stare was so intense that I finally met his eyes. He grinned sheepishly and said, "Okay, so I'm just gonna ask...are you...?" while making a round gesture over his own belly.
I laughed and said, "Yeah, I am...I didn't get this way from eating a bunch of donuts!", which was really a guilt-filled allusion to the two huge donuts I snarfed in my car on the way to work yesterday morning.
All of a sudden, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, which he quickly placed, flipped open, on the counter in front of me. "This is my baby daughter who was just born this morning," he proudly said, pointing to the screen picture.
I stared at him, stunned. I had never met this particular employee before, but suddenly we were kindred spirits. "What?? What are you doing here?" I exclaimed before thinking.
"I had to work" he replied, matter-of-fact.
"Well, congratulations, that's awesome! Wow!" I was at a loss for words. I couldn't imagine having our baby and then Adam leaving me to go to work for the day. The day one's baby is born just seems like a sacred day, not to be missed if one can help it. Couldn't any of his coworkers fill in for him just this one day??
As I walked back out to my car, my brain started going into overdrive--what could I do so he could get to the hospital to be with his woman and their new daughter? I actually thought about volunteering to work for him, but my friend, common sense, kicked in to remind me that wouldn't work.
After wracking my brain as I pulled out of the parking lot and coming up short, it finally dawned on me that maybe he had to work not because no one could cover him, but because he needed the money. In this current economy, we all do.
So once again, I realized with gratitude how lucky I am to have Adam coming home in a few short weeks to spend the following month helping me prepare for Baby's arrival. If Adam being gone for the last six months is the price I pay for his being by my side through labor, delivery and the wondrous hours following, then so be it. It's all been worth it.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
I'm SO NOT "Slob Locked"...
Last night, you might have caught the PBS program "Frontline" presenting an insightful and disturbing look at the U.S. health care industry. Titled, "Sick Around America", the one-hour documentary examines how health care in States has become about the bottom dollar, rather than about insuring the ill. There were journalists and industry insiders exposing how health insurance employees were getting bonuses for retroactively rescinding health care coverage to the seriously ill who had filed claims for treatments.
The program talked extensively about everyday people like you and I who work, but are uninsured (that would be me) or are underinsured (that might be you and you wouldn't even know it until a major health issue occurred and your plan decides not to cover your treatments/medications). The most heart-wrenching story was about a young woman who was diagnosed with lupus while in college, only to be dropped from her parents' health insurance upon graduation. In her quest to find subsequent coverage, she continually came up short because no company would insure her for having a "pre-existing condition." After finally paying exorbitant premiums and copays to work with an individualized insurance company, they dropped her when she was admitted to hospital for life-saving treatments. Her bill topped $900,000, which of course, she could not pay. Only after her death a few months later (at the age of 32) did her parents get a letter from the insurance agency indicating that her health insurance should never have been dropped; a mistake had been made.
Anyway, while I could easily go off on a political tirade about the issues surrounding this, and how a lot of people have their heads up their butts rather than admit the American model isn't working and maybe we should (*gasp*) examine how effectively other countries are handling their health care systems, I won't. Instead, I wanted to write about something in the documentary that struck me as a little more personal. One professor who was interviewed talked about how many Americans are making difficult lifestyle choices to insure that they attain or keep their health insurance. She pointed out recent college graduates as well as career professionals who are accepting and staying in jobs below their economic and academic potential because they need a decent health insurance plan. She referred to this as "job locked." She then ruefully went on to talk about people who are getting married when they wouldn't otherwise, or are staying in bad marriages because they can't afford to be without health coverage. This, of course, reminded me of Adam's and my situation, up until the point where she smirked and referred to it as "slob locked." Yeah, that's not quite us...while I would have happily stayed with Adam the rest of my life without getting married, I was also quite okay with the idea of having a small Key West wedding sometime in the near future. I guess, for me, it was a non-issue. Getting married in our house last year was ideal for me (little stress, little fanfare) but admittedly, we did it with the intention of securing health care. But despite this "lifestyle choice" we made, there's nothing about it that would indicate that we are two slobs locked into a marriage to each other. Quite the opposite, we are happily married and the health benefits are a side bonus.
In any case, if you're at all interested in this national crisis (these are not my words, they are the words of industry experts who are looking at the downfall of national health as well as the economy), you might look at last night's program, which you find in the link above. "Frontline" has a tendency to be quite fair and balanced, so whatever your political views, I think you'll find something interesting and educational in the program.
The program talked extensively about everyday people like you and I who work, but are uninsured (that would be me) or are underinsured (that might be you and you wouldn't even know it until a major health issue occurred and your plan decides not to cover your treatments/medications). The most heart-wrenching story was about a young woman who was diagnosed with lupus while in college, only to be dropped from her parents' health insurance upon graduation. In her quest to find subsequent coverage, she continually came up short because no company would insure her for having a "pre-existing condition." After finally paying exorbitant premiums and copays to work with an individualized insurance company, they dropped her when she was admitted to hospital for life-saving treatments. Her bill topped $900,000, which of course, she could not pay. Only after her death a few months later (at the age of 32) did her parents get a letter from the insurance agency indicating that her health insurance should never have been dropped; a mistake had been made.
Anyway, while I could easily go off on a political tirade about the issues surrounding this, and how a lot of people have their heads up their butts rather than admit the American model isn't working and maybe we should (*gasp*) examine how effectively other countries are handling their health care systems, I won't. Instead, I wanted to write about something in the documentary that struck me as a little more personal. One professor who was interviewed talked about how many Americans are making difficult lifestyle choices to insure that they attain or keep their health insurance. She pointed out recent college graduates as well as career professionals who are accepting and staying in jobs below their economic and academic potential because they need a decent health insurance plan. She referred to this as "job locked." She then ruefully went on to talk about people who are getting married when they wouldn't otherwise, or are staying in bad marriages because they can't afford to be without health coverage. This, of course, reminded me of Adam's and my situation, up until the point where she smirked and referred to it as "slob locked." Yeah, that's not quite us...while I would have happily stayed with Adam the rest of my life without getting married, I was also quite okay with the idea of having a small Key West wedding sometime in the near future. I guess, for me, it was a non-issue. Getting married in our house last year was ideal for me (little stress, little fanfare) but admittedly, we did it with the intention of securing health care. But despite this "lifestyle choice" we made, there's nothing about it that would indicate that we are two slobs locked into a marriage to each other. Quite the opposite, we are happily married and the health benefits are a side bonus.
In any case, if you're at all interested in this national crisis (these are not my words, they are the words of industry experts who are looking at the downfall of national health as well as the economy), you might look at last night's program, which you find in the link above. "Frontline" has a tendency to be quite fair and balanced, so whatever your political views, I think you'll find something interesting and educational in the program.
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