Adam and I were on the one hour drive back home the other night after visiting with friends with family, and in true cheesy style, we tuned in to Delilah, the after-hours radio call-in DJ who gives the lovelorn, the lovesick, the heartbroken and anyone else in the midst of relationship drama some advice on what to do. Oh, and then she helps them dedicate an appropriate song for their particular romance saga. We totally eat it up.
One woman, all a flutter, called in to tell Delilah about her "super great boyfriend!" who she just had to dedicate a song to because he's so awesome and has pulled her through a tough time in her life. When Delilah asked how long they'd been dating the woman replied "Uhhhh...about two months." Delilah played along and asked the woman what was so wonderful about the guy and there was the typical "he treats me right" and "he's always there when I need him" jibbedy-jabbedy. Then Delilah asks the woman if she's still in the "lovesick, can't-stop-thinking-about-him-for-a-second-during-the-day, want-to-be-with-him-all-the-time phase of the relationship" and the woman said that she was. Delilah told her that what was cool about this part of a relationship is how your body responds to your feelings. According to Delilah...your hair and nails grow three times faster than usual, and you burn A LOT more calories than you normally would. Assuming that this stuff is true, from an evolutionary perspective I am surmising that the longer hair is to further entice your chosen mate (do most guys like long hair on a woman??); the long nails are for marking your territory, whether that be on a tree trunk somewhere or all over his back; and the raised metabolism is to keep you ravenous...for food and for other things. Wow, that was fun.
So, ladies, next time you notice that you're booking more frequent appointments at the salon and your appetite is out of control, you might just be in love...or, at least, in lust.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Got Milk?
Hallelujiah! Hallelujiah! Hallelujiah-hallelujiah! Halle-eh-lu-jiah!
As you might remember, Bryony has suffered from a pretty acute dairy allergy since birth. I only discovered this after two months of cleaning floors, and changing my clothes and hers every few hours after her vomiting my breast milk with each feeding. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, but a friend suggested it could be a food allergy, and dairy is the most common. So, despite many reservations, I stopped eating many of my favorite culinary delights (no ice cream in summertime, no cheese with my wine, no yogurt, sour cream or cottage cheese...!). But it was worth it, if it meant my newborn would be able to keep down her own food, the only one she could eat at that point. After about three weeks off dairy (which is harder than you might think, because there is dairy in almost EVERYTHING...!), voila!, like magic, she stopped vomiting. It was wonderful to wear the same outfit all day long, to not go through three thousand vomit-stained receiving cloths everyday. But alas, this could not last, as you have to 'test' to make sure the seeming correlation isn't a fluke...so, I had to eat the ever-dreaded, ever-desired dairy all over again--I believe it was in the form of vegetarian lasagna, mmmmmm--and sure enough, within 24 hours, Bryony was vomiting yet again. And yet again, it took over three weeks for the dairy to leave my body so that her system regulated again. Poor girl.
I was told she would likely grow out of the allergy, and that I could test at nine months. We just happened to be visiting friends out of state at that point, so I decided to let myself have fun, consuming endless slices of pizza, scoops of ice cream and spoonfuls of milk in my morning coffee. It was wonderful...for me. While her vomiting was minimal, Bryony however broke out in severe diaper rash that lasted for more than a month. It was the worst case of diaper rash she's ever gotten. Her poor little butt cheeks were rubbed raw and bloody, to the point that her entire little body would stiffen with fear and dread when I had to change her diaper, so painful was the process of cleaning her. I stopped using wipes and started bathing her at every diaper change. It still stung her but she felt somewhat soothed by the warm water. Eventually the rash cleared up, but I swore never to do anything that would put her through that again.
She is over a year now and I have been eating very small amounts of dairy sporatically--a slice of cheese here, a sample of yogurt at the local grocery store, pancakes fried in butter--and I haven't seen any reaction from her. Last week I decided to scale it up a notch and ate a bowl of ice cream. Still nothing. Then there was a pizza buffet this past weekend and ice cream almost every since, and still nothing.
I think it's over.
I still haven't fed her any dairy directly, but I figure the time is coming very soon. After all, her dad has already given her chicken.
(pukey look on my face)
As you might remember, Bryony has suffered from a pretty acute dairy allergy since birth. I only discovered this after two months of cleaning floors, and changing my clothes and hers every few hours after her vomiting my breast milk with each feeding. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, but a friend suggested it could be a food allergy, and dairy is the most common. So, despite many reservations, I stopped eating many of my favorite culinary delights (no ice cream in summertime, no cheese with my wine, no yogurt, sour cream or cottage cheese...!). But it was worth it, if it meant my newborn would be able to keep down her own food, the only one she could eat at that point. After about three weeks off dairy (which is harder than you might think, because there is dairy in almost EVERYTHING...!), voila!, like magic, she stopped vomiting. It was wonderful to wear the same outfit all day long, to not go through three thousand vomit-stained receiving cloths everyday. But alas, this could not last, as you have to 'test' to make sure the seeming correlation isn't a fluke...so, I had to eat the ever-dreaded, ever-desired dairy all over again--I believe it was in the form of vegetarian lasagna, mmmmmm--and sure enough, within 24 hours, Bryony was vomiting yet again. And yet again, it took over three weeks for the dairy to leave my body so that her system regulated again. Poor girl.
I was told she would likely grow out of the allergy, and that I could test at nine months. We just happened to be visiting friends out of state at that point, so I decided to let myself have fun, consuming endless slices of pizza, scoops of ice cream and spoonfuls of milk in my morning coffee. It was wonderful...for me. While her vomiting was minimal, Bryony however broke out in severe diaper rash that lasted for more than a month. It was the worst case of diaper rash she's ever gotten. Her poor little butt cheeks were rubbed raw and bloody, to the point that her entire little body would stiffen with fear and dread when I had to change her diaper, so painful was the process of cleaning her. I stopped using wipes and started bathing her at every diaper change. It still stung her but she felt somewhat soothed by the warm water. Eventually the rash cleared up, but I swore never to do anything that would put her through that again.
She is over a year now and I have been eating very small amounts of dairy sporatically--a slice of cheese here, a sample of yogurt at the local grocery store, pancakes fried in butter--and I haven't seen any reaction from her. Last week I decided to scale it up a notch and ate a bowl of ice cream. Still nothing. Then there was a pizza buffet this past weekend and ice cream almost every since, and still nothing.
I think it's over.
I still haven't fed her any dairy directly, but I figure the time is coming very soon. After all, her dad has already given her chicken.
(pukey look on my face)
Thursday, June 17, 2010
The Children's Hour
Many of you already know about the quandry of which I am about to write, but I figured that I would post it anyway just to reap some advice if you're willing to be forthcoming.
Adam and I have some good friends in our lives who we see from time to time--maybe 3-4 times a year when either of us is in the others' town (we don't live very far from each other). We've known these friends for many years now and get along well with them. The problem is...their kids.
The kids' behavior is pretty much abysmal. In the times that they've been to our house, they have jumped on furniture, broken a screen door, hit other houseguests and nearly knocked food off the table. The even bigger problem is our friends, as they seem to turn a blind eye to their children's behavior, almost as if they expect us to parent for them. It has gotten to the point now that Adam and I have collectively decided that their children are no longer welcome in our house, which is difficult because that means their parents will no longer visit us either.
The last time we saw these friends, another houseguest who was over at the time told me later that she was in disbelief by the children's behavior and was angry on my behalf. I was glad that someone else noticed the ill manners and had the same reaction I did; in fact, several people have pointed out to me on occasion the poor parenting of these children. I just don't quite know what to do about it. Obviously, if I approach the issue with the parents, they'll be offended and I risk the relationship...but as one wise friend pointed out to me, these friends are not respecting us by allowing their children to run hogwild through our house, tearing things up and disturbing guests and animals, so why am I worried about hurting their feelings?
I know she's right, but still...I hate to lose a friend over something kind of silly. But then again, the two hours Adam spent fixing the broken screen door wasn't very silly for him.
What do you guys think?
Adam and I have some good friends in our lives who we see from time to time--maybe 3-4 times a year when either of us is in the others' town (we don't live very far from each other). We've known these friends for many years now and get along well with them. The problem is...their kids.
The kids' behavior is pretty much abysmal. In the times that they've been to our house, they have jumped on furniture, broken a screen door, hit other houseguests and nearly knocked food off the table. The even bigger problem is our friends, as they seem to turn a blind eye to their children's behavior, almost as if they expect us to parent for them. It has gotten to the point now that Adam and I have collectively decided that their children are no longer welcome in our house, which is difficult because that means their parents will no longer visit us either.
The last time we saw these friends, another houseguest who was over at the time told me later that she was in disbelief by the children's behavior and was angry on my behalf. I was glad that someone else noticed the ill manners and had the same reaction I did; in fact, several people have pointed out to me on occasion the poor parenting of these children. I just don't quite know what to do about it. Obviously, if I approach the issue with the parents, they'll be offended and I risk the relationship...but as one wise friend pointed out to me, these friends are not respecting us by allowing their children to run hogwild through our house, tearing things up and disturbing guests and animals, so why am I worried about hurting their feelings?
I know she's right, but still...I hate to lose a friend over something kind of silly. But then again, the two hours Adam spent fixing the broken screen door wasn't very silly for him.
What do you guys think?
Sunday, June 13, 2010
In Memoriam, Karen Esterline Feher
I found out to day that an old friend from high school, one that I only just a few months ago re-connected with on Facebook, has passed away suddenly. I feel so very sad.
Karen and I knew each other from participating in stage productions by our drama club, as well as from the high school choir. I remember her as being a very mature, serious girl who had a very wise sense of humor. While the rest of us were clowning around backstage during play rehearsal, Karen was memorizing her lines or working on homework.
We lost touch after high school, and only fifteen years later did we reconnect, although I had heard over the years through family and friends that she had married and had children. I am sure they are missing her terribly right now.
Karen's passing reminds me of how fleeting time is, whether you live a long, full life, or a short and equally full one. If there is any consolation in her death, it is that she touched so many people, that even friends like me, who haven't seen her in many years are deeply saddened today.
Rest in peace, my friend.
Karen and I knew each other from participating in stage productions by our drama club, as well as from the high school choir. I remember her as being a very mature, serious girl who had a very wise sense of humor. While the rest of us were clowning around backstage during play rehearsal, Karen was memorizing her lines or working on homework.
We lost touch after high school, and only fifteen years later did we reconnect, although I had heard over the years through family and friends that she had married and had children. I am sure they are missing her terribly right now.
Karen's passing reminds me of how fleeting time is, whether you live a long, full life, or a short and equally full one. If there is any consolation in her death, it is that she touched so many people, that even friends like me, who haven't seen her in many years are deeply saddened today.
Rest in peace, my friend.
This Is My Wife
The last week here has been fairly mundane; Bryony and I get up with Adam in the mornings and are together, just the two of us, until he gets home around 8:30-9:00pm. These are long, somewhat lonely days, especially since the extreme heat (mid to upper 90s) keeps us inside so much. However, I have remained a true and faithful fan of Michigan Public Radio, whose livestream I tap into first thing in the morning and listen to all day long. So comforting to have a little piece of home with me, especially since there is no access to public radio here.
On the upside, I have been trying to make some connections and reach out to the community here, so as to meet some people and try to alleviate some of the loneliness and doldrums. I've gone onto Meetup.com and joined a knitting group that meets on Wednesday mornings, and I have also lined up a volunteer position with the Nature Conservancy which will start at the end of June. Both of these situations are good, in theory, but...I can't actually attend the knitting group because children aren't allowed, and I haven't yet lined up any type of daycare; and, the Nature Conservancy position is one that I applied to several months ago without so much as a phone call or e-mail back, and now I am going to be working for no pay at a job that I am vastly overqualified for. This is not to imply that I think I am too good for the position, but rather to explain that I am afraid of losing the knowledge and skills I acquired in grad school by accepting job after job that does not put those skills to use. But, my choices are few right now, so I am doing what I can to put myself out there. I have also applied to an environmental consulting firm in Austin; this job I feel pretty qualified for, but with the market being what it is, I know that my qualifications don't mean very much. There are likely hundreds of people who have applied to the very same position, so I will be very lucky to hear anything positive back from them.
Yesterday evening, we all went to a military promotion party for some of Adam's colleagues. I was a little bit nervous about going into such a professionally charged situation--several of Adam's "higher ups" were there--since I didn't feel I had much to add to conversation. I'm not a lawyer, nor do I know very much about the law or legal procedure. And it's not like anyone would know that I'm a wildlife biologist to instigate conversation about my career, and I find that very few people are comfortable or interested in asking about my life as a stay-at-home mother. Most of the evening was spent with a squirming Bryony on my lap as Adam shook hands and introduced "the wife" to various colleagues and bosses; I did the requisite nodding and smiling and "nice to meet you!" as I tried to remember names, factoids and "who was whose boss or right-hand man." The most interesting moment of the evening (for me, at least) came when a young guy walked up and started talking to Adam. I was introduced to him and the first thing he said was, "Lauren, my wife Mary Jo is right outside," pointedly nodding in the direction of the backyard, clearly indicating he expected me to excuse myself and go find his wife amongst the throng of fifty-some guests milling about in the yard. Surprised, I just nodded, smiled and thanked him, and remained in my seat. I was eating, had my child on my lap, and knew no one at this professional party; and I wasn't about to let some 20-something puke excuse my presence and make me feel unwelcome. Now, it would have been a totally different story if this had been a kegger, in which case I would have asked him to point his wife out to me so she and I could bump our frosted mugs under the tap...
I asked Adam later if he had gotten the same impression from the guy that I had...at first he was surprised that I mentioned it, but after some reflection, he did remember the undertone of "go join my wife, Adam's wife." It's moments like these that make me realize that while I am happily and proudly married to an Army soldier, I am no Army wife.
On the upside, I have been trying to make some connections and reach out to the community here, so as to meet some people and try to alleviate some of the loneliness and doldrums. I've gone onto Meetup.com and joined a knitting group that meets on Wednesday mornings, and I have also lined up a volunteer position with the Nature Conservancy which will start at the end of June. Both of these situations are good, in theory, but...I can't actually attend the knitting group because children aren't allowed, and I haven't yet lined up any type of daycare; and, the Nature Conservancy position is one that I applied to several months ago without so much as a phone call or e-mail back, and now I am going to be working for no pay at a job that I am vastly overqualified for. This is not to imply that I think I am too good for the position, but rather to explain that I am afraid of losing the knowledge and skills I acquired in grad school by accepting job after job that does not put those skills to use. But, my choices are few right now, so I am doing what I can to put myself out there. I have also applied to an environmental consulting firm in Austin; this job I feel pretty qualified for, but with the market being what it is, I know that my qualifications don't mean very much. There are likely hundreds of people who have applied to the very same position, so I will be very lucky to hear anything positive back from them.
Yesterday evening, we all went to a military promotion party for some of Adam's colleagues. I was a little bit nervous about going into such a professionally charged situation--several of Adam's "higher ups" were there--since I didn't feel I had much to add to conversation. I'm not a lawyer, nor do I know very much about the law or legal procedure. And it's not like anyone would know that I'm a wildlife biologist to instigate conversation about my career, and I find that very few people are comfortable or interested in asking about my life as a stay-at-home mother. Most of the evening was spent with a squirming Bryony on my lap as Adam shook hands and introduced "the wife" to various colleagues and bosses; I did the requisite nodding and smiling and "nice to meet you!" as I tried to remember names, factoids and "who was whose boss or right-hand man." The most interesting moment of the evening (for me, at least) came when a young guy walked up and started talking to Adam. I was introduced to him and the first thing he said was, "Lauren, my wife Mary Jo is right outside," pointedly nodding in the direction of the backyard, clearly indicating he expected me to excuse myself and go find his wife amongst the throng of fifty-some guests milling about in the yard. Surprised, I just nodded, smiled and thanked him, and remained in my seat. I was eating, had my child on my lap, and knew no one at this professional party; and I wasn't about to let some 20-something puke excuse my presence and make me feel unwelcome. Now, it would have been a totally different story if this had been a kegger, in which case I would have asked him to point his wife out to me so she and I could bump our frosted mugs under the tap...
I asked Adam later if he had gotten the same impression from the guy that I had...at first he was surprised that I mentioned it, but after some reflection, he did remember the undertone of "go join my wife, Adam's wife." It's moments like these that make me realize that while I am happily and proudly married to an Army soldier, I am no Army wife.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Good-bye, Hello
So I have officially moved on to my new life. Thursday, Bryony and I made the trek cross-country to Adam, Kika and Greg House and the apartment that is larger than our entire house. I am trying hard to be excited, for Adam's sake, and Bryony's and mine, but I can't help but feel very sad about leaving my friends and my life behind.
But alas! persevere, I shall! Yesterday was spent recuperating from the hours of entertaining Bryony on the plane, trying to keep her from kicking and grabbing fellow passengers, and trying to figure out how to deal with the older gentleman in front of us reaching around and fondling my leg. Yes, it was a very strange flight indeed. Bryony took two long naps yesterday, although she insisted on awaking at 7:00am when Daddy woke up for work. Crazy girl is a morning person. *sigh*
This morning everyone woke up around 5:30am when Kika decided she needed to be let out. Bryony started getting restless and wanted to be up as well, and I fought like hell to get back to sleep. Evidently Adam could not return to sleep, so he decided to go for a run, start laundry, make breakfast and clean. He put me to shame as I lay there in bed, trying desperately to snooze through Bryony's 7:30am cries for attention. Finally got up around 9:30 or so and had a lazy morning as we watched cable tv and planned our day. Ended up going to the local beach--yes, there are inland beaches in Texas!!--and then shopped for groceries and got a car wash (Bryony's first--the expression on her face was priceless) before heading home. Then some dinner, wine and alone time for Mum and Dad before Dad fell asleep on the couch, snoring loudly as I type this now. (evil laughter)
Good day had by all. Will assume this is an omen for very good days to come.
Hello.
But alas! persevere, I shall! Yesterday was spent recuperating from the hours of entertaining Bryony on the plane, trying to keep her from kicking and grabbing fellow passengers, and trying to figure out how to deal with the older gentleman in front of us reaching around and fondling my leg. Yes, it was a very strange flight indeed. Bryony took two long naps yesterday, although she insisted on awaking at 7:00am when Daddy woke up for work. Crazy girl is a morning person. *sigh*
This morning everyone woke up around 5:30am when Kika decided she needed to be let out. Bryony started getting restless and wanted to be up as well, and I fought like hell to get back to sleep. Evidently Adam could not return to sleep, so he decided to go for a run, start laundry, make breakfast and clean. He put me to shame as I lay there in bed, trying desperately to snooze through Bryony's 7:30am cries for attention. Finally got up around 9:30 or so and had a lazy morning as we watched cable tv and planned our day. Ended up going to the local beach--yes, there are inland beaches in Texas!!--and then shopped for groceries and got a car wash (Bryony's first--the expression on her face was priceless) before heading home. Then some dinner, wine and alone time for Mum and Dad before Dad fell asleep on the couch, snoring loudly as I type this now. (evil laughter)
Good day had by all. Will assume this is an omen for very good days to come.
Hello.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Stuff
In the very beginning of the movie "Fight Club" Edward Norton's character talks about how he has become obsessed with acquiring things--the best furniture from Ikea--to furnish his classy, upscale apartment. How having all of these possessions will somehow define who he is as a person. He then goes on to acknowledge that after awhile, the things that you own begin to own you.
We don't even see it coming. Of course you just have to have that coffee table because it matches the bookcase and china cabinet so perfectly. And your life just wouldn't be complete if you didn't buy the latest and greatest gas-guzzling vehicle to match your McMansion home. But wait...when was the last time you just took off work--you have the vacation time--for a month-long trip? Oh, you're worried about who will watch the house? Okay, so what about taking that job in Portugal that is obviously a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Right...you'd have to figure out what to do with all your stuff first--store, sell, ship? And then, do you give the leftovers to friends or try to sell them on Craigs List? After all, you paid good money for that stuff and you don't want to just give it away.
Adam and I have a friend who once said that his apartment is furnished so that he could pack it up and be gone within 24 hours' notice. At the time, I thought he was a little crazy; now I think that's one of the smartest things I ever heard. Why do we allow ourselves to become beholden to our things, especially to the point where we allow their presence in our lives to dictate how it is we're going to live. As I have spent the last few days packing, I have been saddened to think that I am packing my life away, slowly and methodically. At some point, I stopped my train of thought and realized with a jolt that my life does not comprise these things--not books I read or the clothes I wear or even the photos I framed. My life is a complex and beautiful fabric woven from the wonderful people who have walked in and out of it, and of the adventures and experiences I have come across. That is the "stuff" that shapes who I am, and that stuff can't be packed up, shipped off, or left behind.
That is the stuff that stays with me.
We don't even see it coming. Of course you just have to have that coffee table because it matches the bookcase and china cabinet so perfectly. And your life just wouldn't be complete if you didn't buy the latest and greatest gas-guzzling vehicle to match your McMansion home. But wait...when was the last time you just took off work--you have the vacation time--for a month-long trip? Oh, you're worried about who will watch the house? Okay, so what about taking that job in Portugal that is obviously a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Right...you'd have to figure out what to do with all your stuff first--store, sell, ship? And then, do you give the leftovers to friends or try to sell them on Craigs List? After all, you paid good money for that stuff and you don't want to just give it away.
Adam and I have a friend who once said that his apartment is furnished so that he could pack it up and be gone within 24 hours' notice. At the time, I thought he was a little crazy; now I think that's one of the smartest things I ever heard. Why do we allow ourselves to become beholden to our things, especially to the point where we allow their presence in our lives to dictate how it is we're going to live. As I have spent the last few days packing, I have been saddened to think that I am packing my life away, slowly and methodically. At some point, I stopped my train of thought and realized with a jolt that my life does not comprise these things--not books I read or the clothes I wear or even the photos I framed. My life is a complex and beautiful fabric woven from the wonderful people who have walked in and out of it, and of the adventures and experiences I have come across. That is the "stuff" that shapes who I am, and that stuff can't be packed up, shipped off, or left behind.
That is the stuff that stays with me.
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